Miss Universe 2007 etc

Until she fell, the Miss USA delegate at the 2007 Miss Universe Contest was hardly noticeable. Some critics said it was her fall and prompt recovery which landed her in the top five. It probably also earned her several boos. She is a very pretty girl and had the typical bubbly Miss USA delegate bubbliness. Even as the other delegates counted her down time, she appeared only momentarily bothered. Slowly, her embarrassment showed as her shock wore off. She developed an appealing blush. Miss USA is not the first Miss Universe contestant to hit the floor and, if my memory serves me right, Miss Philippines toppled in Trinidad and Tobago in 1999 and still made it in the top three.

If Miss USA was very pretty then why was she scarcely noticeable until the fall? It is a well know fact that too much of a good thing is bad for you and too many pretty girls on one 32 inch TV, though not necessarily bad for the average man, makes individual beauty elusive. I had trouble telling Miss Brazil from Miss Japan. I mixed up everybody. But, then she fell.

The swimsuit section is actually the skin-wear section and is judged on the creativity and beauty of gyrating female hips. Nothing above the navel has a serious impact on the points a contestant receives. All the bikinis have to be the same and over-gyrations are frowned upon by wives and girlfriends. Tall contestants leverage more points but being too tall strains the eye movement of the amateur judges.

Trinidad and Tobago did not field a delegate this year and it was the first time in sixteen years this happened. The official reason is not enough sponsors. The real reason is that pretty girls don’t need this added stress to become famous. They now use YouTube.

The winner of the 2007 Miss Universe competition is Miss Japan and though she is Japanese, she is not foreign-used. I doubt a bad selection for Miss Universe could ever be made since the selection is highly subjective and never political. The Miss Universe competition is losing its popularity because the Internet makes smart and pretty girls more common. I don’t think the competition can be easily revived with everyone knowing a prettier girl than the prettiest girls competing. It appears great beauty is no longer hard to find.

The Rainy Season

The start of The Rainy Season is a happy time for most people. It signifies the end of bush fires, the Sahara dust, and WASA's dam prayers. It brings with it, not only the greenery, but also half a dozen old fridges floating down and blocking up the neighborhood ravines. The rains have a way of exposing bad habits and faulty people. The showers can make flowers grow and carpets smell. It also brings with it warm cozy feelings and frequent TV appearances of the minister responsible for flooding.

Some say the best part of the rainy season is waiting for a hurricane to nearly hit Trinidad and nearly miss Florida. There is always misguided eagerness that hurricanes and storms bring out in people who never had their houses end up in another neighborhood or island. Some say God is a Trini and that is why they don't bolt down their roofs or think before they vote. I say, God is migrating sooner than they think, and it has nothing to do with West Indies Cricket this time.

The Rainy Season can be unsympathetic to insurance companies and their customers' premiums. The rain doesn't claim to be anyone's friend or anyone's enemy. The rain is simply a natural occurrence made worse by Global Warming and disaster movies. We can either love the rain or collect it in buckets, it doesn't care. We can blame the weather all we want but we still have to buy new wiper blades and life rafts. The Rainy Season is not a living thing but it is necessary for our existence and that of umbrella salesmen. The Rainy Season is not here for our convenience or entertainment. It is here because that's how the Earth spins.

Dear aka - again

Dear aka, I know this may sound as senseless as your blog but I needed to ask you this before the correct answer is made public. I read this question on another blog and think you need to answer it properly this time. My question is - do short people fall less often than tall people, and do thin people feel less pain than fat people.

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Dear Questionable,

Firstly, short people are now called vertically challenged and tall people are called by their names. A recent study of one hundred falling humans have revealed that a tall person is ten times more likely to topple when dropkicked than a short person. Researchers also discovered that short people are poor targets for dropkicking and should be punched hard in the stomach instead.

A recent random pinch test conducted on the streets of the nation’s capital revealed that the police only responded to one out of fifty incidents of random pinching. The test also showed that fat people were slower to slap the pincher and it was harder to find something to pinch on the thin people. One researcher observed that fat people wore tighter jeans, and received large amounts of oggoling while thin people pretended not to care. The study concluded that both fat and thin people felt the same amount of pain and almost the same amount of embarrassment in clothing stores and popular beaches.

aka_lol

aka_lol's respones to - How To Choose a Digital Point-and-Shoot by Mike Johnston

My comment in response to Mike Johnston's blog on

How To Choose a Digital Point-and-Shoot

Some of these silver-boxes are even more expensive than a DSLR, but look more fashionable and can fit easier in a shirt pocket or wallet.

I get the impression that Mike Johnston is either being a devil’s advocate, or an aggrieved photographer. Incidentally, the aggrieved photographer is becoming trendy and they, more than likely, may displace the poor and the needy as the object of charity and tax breaks.

I believe Mike Johnston is suggesting that if you only have a limited time on this planet you might as well use it on something useful like real photography or cussing. I almost agree with him.

Not everybody who can afford a BMW buys one and similarly not everybody who can afford a DSLR believes they are worthy of such a device. The average BMW owner craves a status symbol and comfort, and has little appreciation for the intricacies of how the engine really works or why the car must be rebooted every weekend. The average DSLR owner hopes to make the quantum leap forward in his/or her photography, but usually ends up blaming the lens.

What I have discovered is that the world doesn’t come to an end, or become less happy because people are not interested in photography. I don’t know anything about classical Indian dance, or appreciate why the Mona Lisa is such an overpriced painting, but I am happy with that ignorance. Some may scorn me for my ignorance but it’s their scorn and my bliss. Similarly, millions of people are happy with their silver light-capturing boxes, fitted with Leica lens, and set on the green auto-mode because they don’t want to learn the difference between an f-stop and a bus-stop. I doubt these people want to go through the frustration of acquiring photography knowledge, and the even more frustrating process of applying that knowledge in the pursuit of creativity and impressing others.

Because we are not all the same we all seek different pursuits for happyness. Unfortunately, some may not be happy with this latest state but, as the old saying goes, that’s life.

The Goodly Cleric

Once upon a time, on a tiny diagonally shaped island located not too far away, there lived a goodly cleric. He was loved by all the people, revered by his followers, and even tolerated by his wife.

One day, as bad luck would normally have it in April, the cleric was discovered hiding in his closet by a bunch of his most possessed followers. He was humming along to an Elton Wrong song being played on his iPod while eating a fruit. Pink with embarrassment and fearful for his life, the goodly man declared he didn't know it was Elton Wrong and thought it was Dire Straight - It should be noted that turning pink while eating a fruit was not considered helpful in such situations and shouting Dire Straight had only a minimal effect on the amount of blows received - This enraged the loyalist even more and they started to shout imaginary passages and a real nursery rhyme from their collectively small minds. He begged his followers for forgiveness but they didn't know the meaning of the word and no one walked with a dictionary that day. The mob demand answers and a full cash refund, but he still could not explain why he seemed to have a passion for eating fruits in closets. Maybe he had a thing for seeds.

The followers, believing that love not only changes everything but should hurt, agreed on some good licks. They dragged the MP3 player by the ear buds, along with the fruit by the bag into the parking lot and leh go some good wood onto the deviants. The followers knew that lehing go some good wood was the answer to all the world's problems, and things like kindness and understanding were for marketing purposes only. The mob then called for an embargo on all iPods and Mac computers because its maker was closely associated with a major foreign fruit. Fearful of contamination by ignorance, the mob also stopped eating vegetables since most followers had great problems distinguishing real fruits from real vegetables in nightclubs. The cleric couldn't understand what all the fuss was about since after a few drinks they all tasted the same anyway.

The preacher man finally succumbed to pew pressure and turned his life into a bigger mess. He started to eat straight meat and poultry, but no hen. He took part in village fruit-hunts, where even jams, jellies, marmalades and the better quality fig newtons were not spared a good trashing. But he didn't care anymore since, along with kindness and understanding, it was removed from his job specification. All they required of him was to carry a straight public face that was washed in a gold, fruitless sink all year round.

The Writer

The writer twiddled the pen over the blank sheet of paper for over an hour as his thoughts flowed right out the window, completely bypassing the pen. Maybe he should close the window.

He was in the twilight of his life and all he had to show for it were three-dozen successful books and a goatee. It was true that the books were highly regarded and not the goatee but that's how it was with goatees. It was also true that he had won the most prestigious awards for his works, but despite his successes he had this empty feeling deep down inside, and a little to the left. He thought it might be those damn mixed feelings again.

The local University was honoring him for his lifetime achievements and he wondered if they were going to serve pholourie. It was not a Pakistani dish. He liked the speeches and tried not to fall asleep. Some of the best minds in the land were invited to ask him questions about his work so he pretended the sound system was acting up. But the public wasn’t fooled; it was a DJ Lallo system. The next day they forced him to wear a suit and sit in a hot room with three hundred exam-ready teenagers. The teens asked him questions about the easy way to success and he told them go blog themselves. The press smelled blood but all he smelt was gas. That was when the effigy burning began. He even bought two to take back home.

For all his life there were only a few moments he ever wanted to give the young ones stock tips like do your homework, obey your parents, floss daily, find out who your father really is, but those moments had long since disappeared together with his once-prized Theroux's inscribed first editions. In his opinion, if there was one thing the young ones needed apart from a good pimple cream, was an early introduction to recognizing good books by their covers. If you want to fake intelligence you might as well go all the way, he chuckled.

--

Maybe it was his age or maybe it was the Johnny Walker, but she looked too good that day. He remembered his friends telling him she didn’t deserve him and he was better off with the scotch. He should have listened. Like all wives of celebrities, she became the object of insults, and not just from him, but the public. She created quite a stir and it felt odd that reviewers now reviewed his wife as much as his books. They even speculated on the current state of his sex life and he didn’t like the intrusion one bit. His wife didn't like his either. The writer felt that his bed life was his private life, or as someone once said, the life of his privates.

She became the shadow he didn’t want and he became the bank account she never had. He wrote, analyzed, lectured, and signed only new books. She sniffed them for age, the books that is. He was honored for his work. She acted like it was hers. He remembered thinking how a writer’s life was so difficult and how a writer’s wife could be so easy. But he was old, and needed someone to help him be obnoxious when he was tired. That is what they liked about him and that is what they hated about her. She was just what the PR people might have ordered to keep his audience curious between books.

The writer longed to return to his homeland since it was where it all began, and where the honorarium was good. With his enormous success in the literary world he didn't need any more honors, but at his age, he needed to let people know he was still alive. And this he did, so they wrote about him in the newspapers everyday. He could tell they had mixed feeling about him so he ordered mixed drinks and wore shorts by the pool. It wasn't a pleasant sight.

He sat in his first class seat and pretended not to notice the flight attendant was bending over just enough to make him happy to be alive. Then he looked across at his wife and wondered if they loaded all his baggage. Losing baggage is not always a bad thing, he thought. In a strange way, it was sad to leave but he was taking back with him memories of a place he should never forget and a few little bottles of shampoo. It kept his goatee soft and manageable. The plane was delayed for only half an hour, but at least it gave him some more time to figure out how to insert the metal flap into the buckle. He was tired. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and passionately squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, as lovingly as any flight attendant could, considering how close his wife was. But she didn't notice, she never does.

The plane took off and he rocked his seat back. The writer was happy for the first time since he was last happy. He was about to start a new chapter in his life.

THE END

B.C vs V.S

My version of B.C vs. V.S

B.C - Sir V.S, I understand that even as we speak there is good-sized mob is burning an effigy of V.S. Naipaul in the car park. How do you respond?

V.S - Mimic Men!

B.C - But Sir, are you not a least bit disturbed by this vile and grotesque action?

V.S - No, and I am actually pro-effigy burning. I might even have said so in one of my books, but I don’t have them all in my head. It’s a lot safer than burning the author, when you think about it.

B.C. - Why would anyone want to burn an effigy of you?

V.S - Ignorance and stupidity can make people do the strangest things; look at politicians. I think people who have never read or understood my work want to burn me. But then there is the intellectual set who think they understand my work and want to desperately sound as if they do; British accent and all.

B.C. - I did a satirical piece on Miguel Street which was.........

V.S. - ....My lawyers will be paying you a nice little visit in the morning. Do you have any court clothes?

B.C - Ahem! ok. Let's move on. There is a classic question which people ask you that you don’t seem to give an acceptable answer. The question is……..

V.S - ....It was a simple omission, a bit of forgetfulness, call it Nobel fever if you will. How many times do I have to imply that I am sorry! Wives!!

B.C - No, that wasn’t what I was going to ask – the question I have in mind is “What advice can you give to budding young authors”

V.S - What are you, a school child! That is not a valid question, please, can we move on. You are a past-paper oriented society. Get out into the world and immerse yourself. Do the bloody work child, and if you are any good maybe one day someone will ask you to autograph one of your books. I have said it before and I will say it again, literature was meant for adults and adult literature even more so.

B.C - Sorry I asked!

V.S - They usually are.

Five Doubles, The Mindless-Mouth and World Peace

“Five doubles, two with no pepper, three without, six in all.” Naturally this order for doubles had the doubles lady cleanly stumped like a lackluster West Indian cricketer during a World Cup Match held somewhere, except Trinidad and Tobago, in the West Indies. Sometimes people say stupid things which can make a doubles line grow unbearably longer, and that was definitely one of those unbearably longer times.

We all make mistakes with our words when our mind has left our mouth to fend for itself for any time longer than it takes to say the shortest word in the world which, incidentally, is no longer floccinaucinihilipilification. I am yet to meet a mouth that could live peacefully without a mind and the mindless-mouth phenomena is the reason countries start wars, politicians give political speeches, men say I do, and young people drop dead from old age in slow moving fast food lines at Church’s Chicken in Grand Bazaar. The mindless-mouth is generally the cause for all forms of human suffering, except ingrown toenails and the reappearance of the dinosaur formerly known as extinct.

Some say the secret to world peace is to have more mind and less mouth, but such humans are not evolving anytime soon because of some genetic dispute with human nature and the low wages paid to sheep-cloning scientist. The non-believers and the believers, despite their disagreements on whether the Milky Way is really a galaxy or a chocolate malt-­flavored nougat and caramel bar covered with milk chocolate, have both agreed that the world not only needs more love, but less mouth. Personally, I believe that more mouth and more love can happily coexist depending on the technique applied. I also believe the world could do with a more equitable distribution of human fat and mirrors which make people look as good as they think they should. Judging from the success of the war and human strife channel, CNN, it appears that world peace is still as elusive as a Miss Universe contestant wanting something else.

300 - Not Just A Number Anymore

I, like most of the over 300 or so people in Screen 1 at Movietowne yesterday, thoroughly enjoyed the movie called 300 (pronounced chee hundud when chewing gum). It was hard not want to be a Spartan before the movie ended and I still have the urge to continually shout in a deep testosterone rich voice and grow a Spartan beard. I am so taken in by 300 that I also have this cavernous urge to buy a spear, a sword, and a good multipurpose, arrow-resistant shield, but my greatest urge is to seek out a new body by dusk. I will go shopping for these items tomorrow.

Despite rumors floating around in critic’s circles, this movie wasn’t made to generate international support for Sparta, or to expose current Persian aggression, but simply to entertain those who are so inclined to be entertained. If there is any criticism about this movie I hope it’s criticized for what it was intended to be rather than what the reviewer thought it was. This movie wasn’t intended to be a Driving Miss Daisy Home and it did not have those moments. 300 will not receive a best picture nomination and I doubt any of the cast will receive nominations for anything other than body of the year, or best male voice in a mainly computer generated gladiator flick. The only real criticism I can level at this movie is that it sorely lacked the usual amount of revealing female bodies that male moviegoers are accustomed seeing for $45 at Movietowne.

300 was rated 14+ in Trinidad and Tobago but in the US it's rated R for graphic battle sequences throughout, some sexuality and nudity, all (female nudity and action)of which I thoroughly enjoyed and clamored for more. Apparently, young Trinidadians are not too affected by what affects young Americans since it appears we are almost Spartan in nature.

To Serve, Not Command

The Prime Minister was visibly more angry than usual with the line of questioning from reporters at yesterday’s news conference. Unfortunately, he once again didn’t come across as a leader but as a spoilt child who is not getting what he wants – praise, power, and his own way.

In this country we have a history of vindictive leaders who care more about their fragile egos than their country. All these leaders have forgotten they were and are simply public servants who work for the people. They may be, and have been the top public servants, but that’s all. That is why their arrogance and contempt for the people is always hard to stomach. Yesterday, people saw the re-announcement of the Chatam Smelter as an act of revenge on the people by the Government. What else could it be? It could be to distract the people from the uncontrollable crime situation. It could, but it seems more like an act of revenge. What kind of leader purposely inflicts revenge on the people for complaining? That is not a rhetorical question.

The message, which was intentionally sent to the people, is “shut up and don’t complain, the country belongs to the Government, not the people.” Maybe the Prime Minister is annoyed that that everything his Government touches turns to stone. Maybe he is simply feeling we don’t appreciate the know-it-all cabinet decisions. I agree that people make mistakes but when they do the mistake makers should own up. If we are to count the amount of mistakes this government has made by the amount of times they owned up we would come up empty handed. If we count the amount of mistakes the people think the government has made you would fill every page of every daily newspaper for five years.

What Governments always fail to understand is that the people and Governments should never be at war. The only reason a political party is elected and a small group selected to "govern" is simply because most people wouldn't get time off to attend cabinet meetings and fly in private jets. The Government and the people should be one but recent industry trends show they are two separate bodies with two separate agendas. Is it any wonder the country is falling apart.

For any Government to be effective they need feedback on their performance from the people. If the Government ignores or sends four police Jeeps to stifle this feedback then the people are doomed. The former Government was like that and the present Government is even more so. The best and most effective Government will always be one that serves rather than commands, and listens rather than dictates. Clearly, judging from the state the country is in, and the rudderless direction it is heading, we need an effictive Government before it's too late.

Why We Survive

Portuguese Man o' War - a potentially lethal pink creature which is in no way associated with this blog or the current crime wave sweeping the country

The main purpose of a newspaper is to report bad news while pretending to look for good news. Every unsuccessful newspaper owner and vendor knows that good news, like hair spray for bald men and skimpy carnival costumes, will never sell. That’s human nature, the nature of baldness, and our lack of passion for revealing clothes. I am beginning to wonder if a human begin could even survive in the imaginary and blissful world that John Lennon and many others described. In my opinion, human begins need conflict and an enemy or two because it gives one the best reason to live – revenge.

Drunk with joy is probably no different to being drunk with Scotch and coconut water on Christmas day. I believe what we want in life is not to be drunk with Scotch and joy, but to be constantly challenged to get a drink. Yes, we want to be challenged but not challenged to stay alive as it is in some countries like Iraq and Trinidad and Tobago. We want to be surprised, but not by bandits, kidnappers and stupid Government Ministers mumbling on TV. People want the freedom to choose from good choices. People need brief, but regular periods of happiness and to see a constant light at the end of the tunnel.

Man has always been under the constant threat mainly by our own kind so we (yes, I am human) didn’t evolve into creatures of happiness, but rather creatures of survival. We men (yes, I am male) are in our element when we are in survival mode, rather that lying on the beach gulping beer while watching bikini strings go by. That is probably a bad example but what I am trying to say is that the main reason people blog is to survive and the only reason we want to survive is because we are not good at anything else.

The Last Puff

January 30th, 2020

Three years ago the last puff of natural gas made its way through a rusted pipeline and into the last functioning generator to give the last feeble jolt of electricity to the depleted, debt-ridden nation. The dictator, who had squandered the future of the nation on huge concrete monstrosities, unsustainable transport systems and several other nonproductive idiocies, had long since fled the country in his shinny private jet along with his entourage of mindless devotees. They went to a better land and any land was now better than the destroyed and polluted land of this once beautiful country. The people, who for some bizarre reason, were once revered by the rest of the world as the highest per capita consumers of electricity, were left to fend for themselves without even a candle of hope. There was no more greenery as the dictator loathed the color as much as he loathed intellect. The multinationals, which by nature loved Banana Governments, jumped at the chance to plunder the nation and rid the country of not only its greenery but its future. The dictator passionately disliked intelligent people so he helped the crime sector to flourish beyond belief. The flourishing state-encouraged crime industry caused the brain drain to accelerate leaving the dictator unchallenged and the country mindless. Any form of opposition to his ideas was met with the full force of his loyal enforcers. Internationally, he claimed the people were free but little did they know they were only free to worship him. Access to the Internet was closely monitored, and the blogging of opposing ideas was made the most heinous crime in the land.

Operation Hand Bill

Citizens breathed a sigh of relief as it became apparent that the countless millions spent on intensive crime-fighting training for the much respected police service, and the countless millions more on hi-tech balloons did not go to waste as the latest crime plan was unleashed by the Government onto the population. High ranking security officials, including the CoP, are said to be overjoyed over this latest, and last crime fighting initiative which they once again feel will hopefully be the blimp to break that back called crime.

Officially, the anti-crime drive is called Operation Handbill but unofficially it’s called Get Him Now. It is also reported that the Police Service, like CEPEP, will leave no stone unturned in the quest to make the country safe by eradicating those who commit the unpardonable crime of handing out handbills without the printer’s name and address. The announcement of this latest crime plan has now caused countless thousands of once perceived law abiding citizens to go into hiding but not under stones, or cable TV stations for fear of being uncovered by CEPEP, or the Government’s Telecom Authority. Experts have indicated there is now little difference between the two organizations and they are expected to be merged later in the year.

Full page ads are to be placed in the all the daily and weekly newspapers informing citizens to immediately report the sighting of any handbills without the printers name and address by calling 800-HAND or 800-BILL. Millions have also been pumped into a special handbill witness protection program to ensure its success. Operation Handbill will continue until citizens learn that final lesson of the lengths and depths the Government is willing to go to retain the status quo.

Diehards, the Destroyers

For a large percentage of the citizens of Trinidad and Tobago known as diehards, which party is in power is more important than what is happening to the country. For them, the party takes precedence over any crime committed, human plight, ethical values, logical thinking, or the destruction of the country. For reasons unknown to the few reasonable people left in the country, diehards seem to put party above self, or any concept of God ever imagined. It’s frightening to normal people to see when a member of a particular party does something that is either morally wrong or illegal their supporters cheer loudly and endorses the act with a passion. That is something only a diehard could understand and savor.

Diehard supporters are never concerned about the consequences of the wrong, but only which party the wrongdoer belongs. The obsession with the party makes me feel that diehards are even more dangerous than kidnappers or drug pushers because they promote evil hidden under the guise of national development. I am no longer amazed at how easy it was for Hitler to get supporters to believe in evil. Diehards have constantly shown that they are dishonest, vindictive, pretentious, ruthless, delusional, and destructive. The moral (really immoral) value system of diehard supporters on all sides of the political Atlantic is ripping this country apart and they are enjoying it.

Trinidad and Tobago is rapidly degenerating simply because our leaders only speak the language of hate with passionate venom and encourage their loyalist to do the same. Their mantra is “Hate, hate, hate!!” Our leaders are ruthless and manipulative egomaniacs with evil in their hearts, and not one ounce of love. I have never heard any political leader, maybe until now; speak with compassion. We get the type of leaders we grow, and those leaders grow more supporters in their likeness. I am afraid, very afraid for what Trinidad and Tobago has become because there is no light at the end of the tunnel of hatred our leaders continue to build as their legacy.

Legal Piracy aka DVDs: 11 for $100

I can't help but feel that lawlessness is a part of our culture and mindset. I recently read in the newspaper where the CEO of Directv in the Caribbean was complaining about the legal cable company pirating some channels, mainly the so-called premium channels like HBO and Cinemax. This was supported by a statement from HBO that the cable company had no permission to broadcast those channels. The Directv CEO also said he wrote the Minister responsible for the protection of intellectual property about a year ago on the issue and he is yet to receive a reply. This lack of interest shows where the Government stands on intellectual property - nowhere.

I feel successive Governments have turned a blind eye to cable and DVD piracy because it would create an uproar among the masses and the masses have too much to worry about. The reasoning goes beyond that. If the Government clamps down on big "legitimate" business because of piracy then the Government would also have to clamp down on the "small man" for the same reason. This is a no-win situation for the Government because hitting the small man means losing votes and hitting big business means losing friends.

The people continue to be ignorant about what makes a society better and therefore continue to support the things that are illegal and/or immoral. Our leaders continue to only run their mouths about the value of intellectual property while blatantly refusing to protect it. Laws and their enforcement would not eliminate piracy but it would make a strong statement about the value of intellectual property to the nation.

The only renewable resource this country has is its intellectual resource. If we as a country do not encourage the development of intellectual work, and enforce its protection, then we are doomed to be living on handouts after the oil and gas burns out. The Government and the people talk about the future but only care about now. We are our own worst enemy but we blame everything else. Granted, not everything legal is right, but piracy is wrong.

Critical Mass

Speed kills and that’s a fact. Stupidity is the lack of understanding of the consequences of one’s actions. People who speed on the roads are not fully aware that it is not an acceptable risk, and insurers will tell you that. People who speed are stupid people, but even more that that, they are dangerous to society. Self-contained stupidity is typically safe but public stupidity can be lethal. That is what we are facing now, an exponential increase in the amount of people who are a menace to society. When this number of people reaches critical mass society will meltdown, and I think we are on the verge of societal meltdown. Excess speed is one symptom, pig manners and government arrogance is another. There are too many other symptoms to place in this blog but I am sure you can easily name at least three more.

New Year Scrooge and All That

I have no fans or fan club so my quiet reentry into the blogging world will go as unnoticed as my departure. For those who are curious as to why I gave up blogging I can only say it was due to my disillusionment with blogging. So what was I disillusioned about you may ask, but I have no answer which I can remember. Maybe I simply wasn't achieving the level of fame I thought blogging would bring. Maybe blog wasn't the answer. For those who are now way past the edge of their seat in curiosity as to why I am back again I can only say I have discovered that Blog is a many splendored thing and what the world needs now is blog, sweet blog. I have also realized it is just as important to find out why we blog as much as how we blog.

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I would normally wish people Happy New Year or All the Best around this time of the year but this year I decided to not put more rubbish in people’s head. It’s not good to do people’s jobs for them and filling heads with rubbish is the job of politicians and clergymen. Also, those greetings are customary and empty. We do it because we are afraid no to but fear is not the answer. Furthermore, asking someone How Are You is a highly rhetorical question and as such, more than other rhetorical questions, requires deep silence because it is a reflex action greeting. Since I do not wish people happy new anything I simply look at people with disinterest and grunt vaguely as they offer their hand to be shaken as a gesture of goodwill while spewing new year greetings. They think I belong to some strange religion that doesn't believe in fireworks. I might also come across as sour and that is my intention because I am a born again New Year Scrooge.

Macadamia

Macadamia, a nut since birth, rolled over the lazy dog as he prepared to make his journey into the uncertain world of single-fruits. He departed with convention and decided to make it on his own as opposed to being picked, sorted, canned and sold to people with too much money and too much time on their hands. Macadamia somehow knew there was a bigger and more exciting world beyond his shell and he wanted it more than a politician could ever want a vote. He was afraid and he blamed his fear on his sheltered upbringing by his typical parents who treated and fed him like a mushroom. Eventually the food will hit the fan he thought, and today is eventually.

Macadamia’s parents, two huge proteaceae, were typical nuts; non-athletic, non-adventurous, TV-watching, lock-the-house-up-by-8:00pm type of hard-shell fruits. Though they were good and tasty, especially when roasted and slightly salted, they were exceptionally uninteresting and predictable at best. They offered safety but not growth. Yet, when stories are told about them fifty years from now they would be described as quaint as the old woman who lived in the shoe, or the quite contrary Mary. Time will always hide the truth.

Time, like alcohol in sufficient quantities, has a way of numbing the brain and it also has the ability to take things from the past and mold them into something more pleasing and suitable for a child’s high school essay. Without the proof of photographs, time can make the bland beautiful or the grotesque handsome. It can make the coward brave and the stupid almost a genius. It can make the recluse into a party animal and the unemployed loafer into a wealthy businessman who lost all his wealth due to the trickery of a cunningly beautiful woman. Time - the greatest invention before the wheel, fire and possibly even the g-string.

Blogers note: Macadamia was last seen in a straight jacket being escorted into an asylum. Apparently he went nuts.