organised slavery - part 2

Six days in the Galway, best times of her life surmised Eva,  english improving too, her purse cash laden, no longer afraid to go out, she bore nothing in common with the young shy woman she was when she first arrived thanks to her boyfriend. On the phone to her mother she described him as a twenty something doctor. How conor dolan would have liked to hear that description of himself, a doctor. She was going out for breakfast, the time ten and ten.

Passing reception she asked for Mario. She wanted to treat him. I’ll buy him something instead once she was told that he’d worked the night shift and wouldn’t be back till later that evening. The morning was fresh, the world a perfect sight in her eyes. New york new york, should have called it galway galway she smiled in a world of her own. The hotel receptionist gave her a map, and kindly marked out where they were located and where she could go for the best irish breakfast in the world, fanny o’briens, a small eatery located on Quay Street. It meant a short stroll, the journey taking no more than fifteen minutes.

I’ll buy momma something too, send her money, her father and two cousins, and uncle Thomas, she made a list while she wisped along, carelessly relaxed. Stopping at a jewellers, she looked at the glitter on display, admiring the price of everything. Conor had bucket loads of cash, and she was his girl. Conor, she liked the name. rolex watch, cheaper at home, and, her heart jumped. Wedding rings, she liked the one with the four stones on the gold band, wasn’t too expensive, only five thousand euro. I’m worth it she sighed, full of hope, still dreaming. She ventured further down shop street, the main shopping thoroughfare. Creative people these irish she decided, as there were street performers every twenty yards. She stopped at a mime artist, dressed in a silvery outfit. He stood like a statue on the street. People dropped coins into a bowl he had in front of him. each time they did, he moved his arm sharply, robot style. Eva stood watching too before moving on, preferring the sound coming from further down the street, sounded salsa. Only ten in the morning, what would the city be like later on, alive or what.

“conor dolan” announced Antoinette.

Rooney shook his head. Too early to be dealing with this shit he thought, his head under pressure, a late drinking bout having it’s affect.

“I’ll ring him back Antoinette, tell him I’m not here, tell him I’m not here” he said, adding.

“did we get those contracts signed, the bank wont release the money unless we have signed contracts, when are they in” he asked, referring to the murphys and their attempt to buy a first time home.

conor dolan stood listening outside rooneys office door, waited for Antoinette to hang up, a big husky smile on his face.

“do you see what I have to put up with, I send you, in the last three years I’ve sent ye more business than anyone else in this town, and do you listen to that yoke in there, the little whore, takes your money” chirped dolan.

“I suppose he was on the batter last nite” he added, about to enter into rooneys inner sanctum.

The door opened. Rooney not at all impressed, the situation out of his control once he saw who it was. Conor dolan had the charm of an Irishman when it was demanded of him.

“I want to show you something, get your coat on we only have half an hour” smiled dolan.

“we’ll have to be quick, I’ve clients coming in at eleven” replied rooney, on his feet and not feeling too well “we’ll have to stop for coffee” he added, out the door, and almost on the street. Dolan walked fast. Rooney followed.

“where we going” he asked.

Ten minutes later they were at the harbour, a short walk away. Site for sale,  half acre or thereabouts right next to the docks.

The harbour in galway is a very square affair, small compact and confined, no real space for expansion, but international in terms of it’s attraction. Dolan’s plan became obvious to rooney quickly. One side of the harbour was devoid of building, the opposite side full of them. Town was gaining international status, property prices climbing faster than anywhere else in the world. 

a piece of your heart...

A peace for your heart, a pierce of your heart, peace in your heart, and she wanted peace in her heart, no promises, she’d too many of those in her closet, the memories, some bad, he seemed different this time. First time they’d met in two years, she was listening to him go on, he was looking better, his teeth pure white, it looked like a new man before her. But inside she remembered the pain, said her goodbyes and walked away. She’s peace in her heart, and didn't need to be lead astray., didn't need it any other way. Memories, the scars and victorious, all she ever wanted to hear was truth, he just kept her as a servant cause that’s all she was, till they met this day. But it’s easy to under estimate the comfort of love, and the affect it has on other beings all around you. This is perhaps so simple, it’s almost too easy to understand, but it’s something we all can attest to, or at least we know someone whose been there so to speak. Young girl meets young boy, grow up, they break up, she goes to college on the east coast, he goes west, they mature, never see each other bar the odd funeral, end of story. Love between them grew gently, they were chaperoned by society, attitudes towards family values etc etc..nothing personal, just normal stuff. Her love matures, she’s not found the one, bingo, she hits the iceberg. Three years later, two careers, his busier, she gives up job to have baby, he goes away longer and longer working. Then the pressure mounts, bills, job insecurity, his internet porn addiction, her motherly ways, suddenly everything is out of sync. He meets someone online, starts his first affair. Wife busy with second child, intimacy is less and less, they go out together once every three months, and on birthdays. He promises her he’ll make a fortune online, no need to worry, he’s also on the cocaine now and has met some shady friends to go along with it, he’s also getting involved in all sorts of weird stuff online, every stuff involving children, he’s totally addicted, everything he sees is sexualized. She’s still a wife and mother, the children are three, the online company is doing well, bills are getting paid, but he’s always working, but it’s okay, cause the kids can afford their classes and have nice friends….he starts to fantasize about his daughters friends, begins buying online child pornography, company is doing really well, wife is now on the board of a charity, and feeling like she’s Imelda Marcus  oh the struggle was worth is she says, she even has new friends. Her husbands old friends keep her company. Being cool, she takes cocaine, the first time, husband by her side takes some too, they are suddenly bonded again, joined in love she thinks. So what is love, is it the beginning young girl, the young woman in love, the mother to be for the first time, or is it the woman who finds her love awake again, and this is just a snip, a bite. When love is allowed to flourish, it does amazing things. When it’s dimmed it causes addiction, cause rather than going through the pain of it, we turn our lives into sports, hobbies, drinking, reading, shopping, basically we find things to keep us busy rather than deal with emotions, as we seem to have little control over our emotions, they can be tinkered with is basically what is being said here, and if you can tinker with some else’s emotions you tinker with their life, and that’s why psychology is used to determine the voters mood, testing the water so to speak, and when bad people tinker with your emotions, providing the temptation you need, she can’t see you surfing the weird stuff, it’s only you you think, inside you begin to change. She watches him leave the house, briefcase in hand, sun was shining and the car was new, a baby cried in the room next door, she holds the child and listens as the car pulls away, child is quite, comfort is the cure, she places him down on the bed, she begins her medical cure. Three Valium for starters and two shots of vodka. Her head shudders, she shakes all over, hit her quickly, she falls back on the bed. Looks over at her wedding picture, taken all those years ago, the love she had in her heart that day, used up and gone away. ….we all have choices to make.

Faking it

A fancy box, a cool container, a press release, a series of press stories, what cost $2-3 dollars to produce, sells for $50 perhaps, a celebrity picked scent, don’t have much time it seems these celebrities, what do you call celebrity excess, the ultimate rip off, no one seems to be offended, cheap labor wasn’t used in it’s manufacture, it’s machine made,  don’t you wonder how stupid the human can be, faking it as they call it, show me an election that is fair, show me democracy, the emperors clothes syndrome as I call it, something only a child would notice, no adult wants to admit to such idiotic vanity, no matter how much the psychologist will tell you, shopping is good for you, show me a child who doesn’t like to be brought to the sweet shop, if the same psychologist told you that saving was better, you’d say, ain’t no hit in that, doing something, avoiding the issue, honey can’t we talk about this later, I’ll see the bank manager next week, we’ll go to counseling okay, whatever, the things we do to avoid listening, like david beckhams latest creation, or whatever the next celebrity smell is. If they said it was shit, you’d buy it if your boss was wearing it, the fake in all of us, it’s pushing the world to the limit of existence and children to the point of unbearable endurance, almost. It was much the same when jesus entered the world all those years ago, few wanted anything to do with a man who proposed sharing and doing good, no power in that kind of activity, well not on the ground, but in the heavens above, such activities open doorways, create great friendships, provides hope, encourages justice, promotes the ability to love, not the ability to manipulate, as those celebrity backed products have been doing for years, it’s time to cop on. She wakes in the morning, beard rash, spots, you name it, even his underwear is dirty, he asks her how it was, wonderful she replies, just can’t wait to see him out the door before she scrubs herself from top to bottom. Did you see the last great Hollywood blockbuster, it was great, the special affects left you in awe, the…so many stories hyped out of the galaxy, forgotten stories most of them, bar the dozen of so made by the likes of spielberg and co, the batman movies, the rest of the bunch, forgetful and of little consequence. When they price the movie take, it’s more merchandising than the movie, but in our lame thinking, we assume it’s a wholesale success, cause we never examine figures, unless we are looking at a woman. The only reason I raise a few of these dumb ass ideas, is to remind you, that when it comes to heavens joy, no one fakes it. It’s the only certainty that I am aware of on the planet earth, heaven is real, either prepare for it, or perish as they say. Sometimes the truth hurts, so does childbirth, so does growing up. The great thing about little children, they have a hard time faking it…it’s something they learn later, as they grow up, and follow the example set out for them, by the great teachers of the world, us.

organised slavery

“my first time” explained eva,  first time in Ireland. Sitting in the lobby of the southland hotel, a large boutique hotel, situated on eyre square, within walking distance of the harbour, that had been the host harbour for the Volvo International around the world boat race, eva tried to keep the conversation as simple as possible. Latvian by birth, she was drawn to Ireland and  Galway, by the rise of the Euro zone and the lure of hope, fortune and love perhaps. The couple sitting next to her, were middle aged and irish, the male of the pair having induced conversation. Eva was twenty one, tall, blond and pretty.

Pat and mary Flynn did their best to encourage the tourist industry, Pat more so than mary.

“did you ever hear of the Galway Races” he asked, talking slowly.

Her brain not used to English, she just nodded. Waiting for a contact to come and pick her up, no work papers on her, she was thrilled at the warmth of the older pair but suspicious also. She tried to limit the conversation as best she could, saying little.

“pat we’ll miss our train” quipped mary, envying the good looks of the much younger woman.

“goodbye now”

she watched them go out the door, not cops, not cops. Cops didn’t hold hands and open doors for each other. She looked at her watch, he was an hour late. Her focus was the entrance, he would come in that way she thinking.

“more coffee madam” asked a waiter passing by. She shook her head and smiled. She knew the word for bathroom was bathroom. Her bag was small, a hold all. She was told to bring few clothes as she would be able to buy a wardrobe once she worked a week. Five hundred euros for a week cleaning was a months salary back home. Other friends had made the trip and come home safely. She was catholic, believed in God. Ireland was catholic country, and the irish were well known around the world for their human rights work, bono in particular, bob geldof, and hosts of others. No place was safer in Europe she heard. And there were no Albanians here, made her feel safer even.

A four star hotel, with bay windows overlooking a square, hence the name Eyre Square, eva sat in a window seat, and waited. She liked the trees and flowers in the square, the fountain, the colourful people, many races, a cosmopolitan town, just like the brochures online. Couples passed, people holding hands too, not all of them, but some. Being young, love was fresh in her heart,  and  Galway an old historic town, seemed a perfect place to start. It was reassuring to see people happy. Back home, her local town was dilapidated, people out of work, options were few.

An hour passed, nervousness grew. The waiter had twice passed her, would he call the cops, what if something happened to her friend, she couldn’t ring home, she couldn’t call the cops. The coffee was the most expensive coffee she’d ever had, two euro’s,  only tea was cheaper on the afternoon menu. Picked up that morning at Dublin airport, she was technically on holiday, but without money. Put on the Galway train by another Latvian friend, she was given instructions. Hotel was near station, around a corner, she had a map but no mobile phone. Irish police she was told monitored mobile phones hoping to find illegal workers. So no phone, she could buy one once she had a job and was settled in. up to one hour ago, the plan had worked perfectly. Panicky, she told herself not to worry, this is Ireland. In old Latvia, she would have no job, no chance of having a life. She’d be like all the others who stayed home and regretted it. My big chance she kept telling herself, my big chance you silly fool, big chance, and maybe a boyfriend too. A bank manager in Latvia didn’t earn 500 euro a week she reminded herself. She heard a familiar accent, her heart jumped. The voice sounded Latvian, but her joy was short term, even if it gave her hope. A waiter, it was only a waiter. At least she could ask him for help she thought.

She watched him instead of the door, a little more relaxed.

Conor Dolan was raging, fuming, his knuckles as white as the gleaming white five series  BMW he was driving. Stuck if fucking traffic, can’t they organise shit he fumed. On the headford road, a main artery into the city, he was behind schedule. I’ll kill the bollox, he’s dead he fumed, referring to mad boy magill, the reason he was behind time and in the middle of the late afternoon traffic rush. Everywhere he looked he was surrounded by metal, cars sideways behind in front, about to vent his anger into his mobile phone, it rang instead. Every little thing she does is magic, the ring tone, the song made famous by the English boy band of the eighties, “The Police”.

“this better be good, I need good news” he said, speaking nicely for one so angry seconds earlier. Mario looked over at Eva, his eyes combing her legs, sizing her up, as he gave full description and potential to his unofficial employer/boss.

“I might keep her for myself if that’s’ the case” he laughed before hanging up.

it must be karma he smiled to himself, the traffic beginning to move, the reason for the hold up a bit more obvious. Two cars collided on a roundabout, closing one lane.

Scammers fucking scammers, being one himself he knew the routine well. Faking an accident on a roundabout was as simple as removing the break lights in the rear, the car behind having no chance once you break, insurance company pays out. Cops total tools he told himself passing a bunch of them taking instructions etc. what a waste of money too he told himself, counting them, five police officers, two police cars, all over a two car dint. Whiplash me arse he laughed passing on.

Nearing the southland, his business acumen kicked in. he threw two fifty euro notes onto the floor of the passenger side. Money always put people at ease, especially auctioneers and bankers. Two more notes were left on the seat, same type. Who ever got into the car would hand them back to him, the ones on the seat. If they saw the money on the floor, they’d think he was polluted with the stuff. Valet parking made the routine safe, of leaving money on car seats. Practiced and sly, whoever got in was

About to have an introduction to life on earth that is not describable, or for better wording, they would be the ride of the week at the galway races that were soon approaching, perhaps never going to recover either, as the slavery of women over decades has proved.

paddypicasso: A Prayer for the World

paddypicasso: A Prayer for the World: Hope love transparency justice fairness and revelation of truths, the message of lord Jesus Christ, righter of wrongs, revealer of truth, ...

The Digital Revolution

I will he promised, passing her at reception. Her exam was the next week. Magda was cute. She wanted another inklish lesson. He’d passed her details to an English teacher,

when she’d asked previous about it. He was away now, the same inklish teacher, and she’d a few tings that needed attention she said. She sounded so cute too, tick in the nicest way, almost cubanesque. He’d promised her that he’d give her a lesson. His hands went slap as he walked up the stairs, in rhythm, hand and feet. He’d made a personal decision at last.

His list was thinning, black lines through most of the channel numbers. Digital should have meant revolution. Media always wins the day, and the media was global. Harry was working at it, getting a grip on the global mania that was digital TV. It was out of control, he’d seen it. Big brother shows about the ordinary doing very little, food shows that preached how to blanch food, keep for a rainy day, star shows for the star in all of us, famous and poor shows, naked shows, shows about shows about how the shows should show more, freedom of the press, freedom for the depressed,  shows, attention keeping, mention the word tension, war shows, not forgetting holiday shops, we all need to partake, in the digital revolution..

God in a nutshell

It’s the billion dollar question, God, how do we make him smile, laugh, proud of us, and what part we play in the game of life, how will we be judged, what are our chances of making it to heaven, is there any point trying, if these are topics of interest to you, I suppose they are, then it might be just a question of believing in what is divine and acting in that fashion, too simple I expect, but what is water, a very simple yet essential source for life. I’ve been on this path sometime, aware of divine intervention, and what divine intervention actually means. Put simply, it’s the chance to do it again, but better this time around, as many who have been saved from deathly situations can attest too. When it comes to faith in the divine, we all tend to be shy, or no one likes to be reminded about all the things they do wrong, and like all thieves, no one of them likes getting caught out publically, private will do fine, least our friends won’t find out, and besides, they probably have much worse stuff on their plate, they know this privately themselves, and like ourselves, who needs to be reminded. But in terms of God, the desire and application of what is right, thinking about it never delivers, might pass a few years as they say, but God is into those that do what is called of them, not what we do for ourselves. You can’t be Christian and into yourself all the time, that’s one of our great concoctions, and it’s what most of the media and consumer led corporations want you to do, think of yourself. So assume you have parked your ego, you can’t go out looking like that monica, what will the neighbors think, get over the ego bit, and your left to you, alone, just you, no one else, you, that’s me, I’m talking to you, once your left to being you, and no one else, no camouflage, large house, good job, fat bank account, hey I worked for that, so do the one dollar a day employees of most large western based corporations with operations in Vietnam, Cambodia, china, they earn a little more in china, they also work hard for their little bit, so really you don’t work that hard, what about the kids, if they are healthy just be glad, I can hear the complaints already, tell me something new, if you feel so strongly about it write it down, anyway, you parked the ego, it’s in a safe place, only you can rouse it, it ain’t going away, but once you put yourself last in matters occasionally, not out of duty because you have kids, that’s not putting yourself last, that’s called doing what your supposed to do when you have children to care for, okay, I’ll nominate you for the nobel peace prize for children, now you feel better, but in your neighborhood there is a need, and your not rich, you can’t write a cheque and get back on the yacht, your not a politician and seeking brownie points, your just the ordinary kind and decent person who helps when you can, you’re the teacher who stays behind occasionally to help that slow learner, you’re the dude who visits the elderly man who lives alone, you, by good example encourage others to do more good, you’re the parent who brings the kids to church, even if your not sure yourself, because you know it’ll do them good, these are God’s kind of people, ordinary. And the great thing about being ordinary, is that when you do something extra ordinary, the whole world will find out about it, and will get better as a result. I’m a very simple man, but I have great respect for all those men and women, of all denominations, who put their love on their sleeve, and just do it because it is the right thing to do. The mother who raises her kids alone and gets it done, the nurse who works for peanuts compared to those who work in financial services, because she lives to care, the doctors who continue to educate and educate in order to provide a better service, the fathers who make time to make sure their children feel like the most important children on the planet, all the people who do what they do out of love and nothing else, these are God’s own. Like I said a few lines ago, I had the luck of the divine, and what started as the worst few hours of my life, turned out to be the most valuable lesson I ever learned, God is real, and God has plans for us all. Briefly, we were all created by love to love and to encourage love, and love in this context, is not the pleasure we can sometimes enjoy, but the hope we raise in other hearts by our own actions and good deeds. My mother taught me some of this, those who went before me reminded me of this, before the divine got seriously interested in me, and made my mind up for me on this, it wasn’t a sudden flame moment, or an awakening as they say, it was a conscious desire to know more that lead me to this moment along with spiritual guidance. But this I know without doubt, we are all of the son, the sun, that thing that rests in the sky and provides us with heat and light, without we are dead, too much and we are toast, and like all things that exist, they just didn’t appear, wisdom got to work and she filled in the gaps. Ask yourself the following, why do stars shine, cause they ..stand out. But one of the great tragedies of this world, is that we don’t fully understand our own potential, what we can actually do. To fill you in on one thing, beware of this, good thoughts bounce out of good hearts, bad thoughts ooze out of bad minds, and thoughts good and bad can be read by the many angels, good and bad that orbit our space, both at work and at home, and because the evil ones, the masters and mistresses of this world, those who proffer pleasure before justice, consumption before thoughtfulness, greed over concern, because these folks do not want heaven and earth to unite, as one, as hoped by God many thousands of years ago, as once heaven and earth unite, there’ll be major changes for all those who have been loving, and bad outcomes for those who promote evil ways, roman empire, Egypt, etc, all those empires of old have gone, in ruins, those who actually support the evil menace and their supporters will continue to try to interfere in all that is good, that has been the way for many generations, but I’m glad to say, that God has got the upper hand, after quite a struggle, a struggle that is made easier the more we do it his way, and that is my opinion of God in a nutshell, I’m just a plain old Christian of catholic descent by the way…but I’ve seen the light, and when it comes to prayer, don’t think any old prayer will do, if your actions don’t add up don’t expect results, and if you truly believe, be patient, God has been let down by most of us, and isn’t easily fooled, he’s well used to those of us who are political as they say, mighty in words but poor in deeds, hope it helps you on your journey.

The Rhetoric of Hope

Magda was getting close to him, becoming friendlier. The late Pope John Paul was polish too. She was making polish cookies for him. He’d have to invite her around sometime. She might have been a lonely polish immigrant. She didn’t seem the sort to be short of, friends or male company.  Harry hadn’t studied the relationship in depth yet, too busy and occupied by his Mission, TV task, seeing is believing isn’t that what it’s all about. He nibbled one of her cookies, chipping the biscuit, tasting a bit. More followed, soon the biscuit was done and in his stomach. He quickly followed it with a swig from the coke bottle, leaving a food splurge around the bottle opening. She’d all the attributes of a wife on one hand, a mistress on the other, magda that is. She was creeping more and more into his reality. Cooking, polite, seemed proud,  physically, all reich, right, young, mid twenties about, and blue eyes. He could have been describing the Arian race, perfect white folks. If only it was 1940 again, I a german soldier, and I and i.. and lots more I’s. It was 2013, history had dealt with the issue he hoped. Hitler might have encouraged eugenics, the world now practiced it. Every woman was a potential dyed bomb, blonde, whatever. Israeli casualties were counted down the line, sectioned by age, sex, and qualifications. Arab casualties were simply rounded up. The conflict on the ground was been fought out on TV too. Incitement and call to war on both sides, people with no or little formal education are easy to upset. They believe what they’re told. Sending boys to fight for god while the world looked on, the majority too busy to think, a second mortgage on the mind. Harry kept up his channel watch. Forcing himself to inhale the rhetoric of hatred again and again. Mullahs, generals, premiers, state employees, war hero’s, anyone who had an opinion, anyone likely to upset, anyone controversial, never anyone reasonable, harry didn’t hear the voice of reason utter that often. The stories became testaments to technology and branded war heads. The nuclear moment was getting nearer, when everything would be clearer, so it seemed to harry, either that or it was an expensive and emotive game of chess he was watching. It certainly wasn’t dialogue even though it was dressed up to appear so. His eyes tired, he’d been watching the shows for four hours without a break. He was so disturbed his JD remained undisturbed. Faces on screen have changed, the make up is the same though, as the news is the same, repeated threats, incitement, and encouragement, the media splurge unrelenting, the continuous repeat, the drums of war pounding in the background, the news wrapped in flashy presentations, who wouldn’t be impressed. Himmler managed it without technology. The old pie charts were now flash presentations, percentages moved as the newscaster continued to read aloud. The latest reader poll was 60/40 in favour of the limited use of nuclear weapons.  As long as they confine it there, not near us, not in our back garden, would we need medical insurance, would it affect our children. A little more excitement, woke harry up in fact. Everyone liked money. The cost of war blared the voice of a narrator. Zip zip, zip….zip. perfect animations of ammunition stock piles appear in a row. Tanks appear underneath, followed by another row of numbers, all the above underlined. A figure harry never knew existed appeared in big black capitals, something approaching a figure in the trillions, what’s a trillion, loads of big thrills, plenty of explosion for sure. Zero’s that go on forever, harry didn’t know that such an amount of money even existed. There’s money being spent in the middle east. Who was earning it, all this money, would have been much more helpful he thought, about to shoe it out of the small hotel room.

are you medicated yet...

They always blame god, who could blame them right that minute. God help us, why did he let it happen cried the women on the TV, Arab Muslim Israeli,. The TV station unbiased, An Israeli mother wanted her son back, yelling and wailing, clutching a picture. He was now a picture, a jig saw of many pieces. At least she had a picture figured harry, the Arab woman, all she had was a pile of smoldering brick and mortar. They all want their children back, we all want our childhood back, we all want exactly what asked harry?.

We can’t go forward cause we want to go back. God didn't direct any missiles either.

There in no mention of technology or guidance systems in the bible, perhaps lots of guidance issues.

Blame and blame blame blame, yours mine, ours count for more, sorrows, repeated again, wailing call to war, reprisal, buying time, developing weapons, keeping the masses ignorant of it all, while the private backers of both armies indulge in a little stock market play, results guaranteed. The longer the war the higher the price of oil. No poor countries seemed worth invading. Money, positioning, posturing, delaying effectively, it was all a delay figured harry, the threats and talks, the death of a thousand to save one life, the maths just did not add up. he was in the TV news zone, no longer addicted to the instant tit or gamble sites. He’d seen so many so called celebs anoint and bless for cash, the gambling operations of multi national corporations. Gamble over the phone, credit to account, roulette twenty four hours, texas hold’em, your cash, by text, online, over the phone, it was all they wanted, your cash.  He’d seen enough of those big dollar pots to see through it. News of war, and the waging of war, another theatre, another show on the TV. Conquer and divide, rules of war, being played between ultra nationals, east and west, while children played the parts of extras, adding gun powder to the growing human mess, effectively reaching the emotions. We’ll stop when they are all dead, we’ll stop when democracy exists, when Israel is wiped out, we’ll, ….harry listened to the various threats. Lot of angry people out there, lot of angry people out there too on medication. 

The Placebo Affect

The fox used to be a wild animal. Extinction will come like everything else, in time thinks the narrator of the show, solemn sounding. Harry was now watching shows to do with heritage and environment. Seemingly foxes like restaurant food. They must have learned to read laughed harry, making light of the plight of the wild animal in flight. Maybe your dog is an alien spy. What was he doing in the forest last night,

getting tuition on how to use a gun. Habitat eradicated by man, man stresses the narrator, harry is in stitches. He covers his mouth, in case he wakes magda who probably sleeps at reception. But the plight of the fox was a survival one, and as the fox never owned anything, he’d survive, fight on reckoned reasoned harry. Not that again he moaned as he switched over to the news channel. He’d been off the babe channel a week now and proud of it. Body count, we all love to hear the casualty numbers. Harry wasn’t surprised. He loved maths growing up. in those days you had to use your head to count, now they had machines. The world was being slowly programmed, not all of the time, just in front of the TV. He was having problems coming up with new content for the Sunday sermon. He’d used the numbers thing the previous week, people loved to hear the word millions being used, mentioned in the papers daily, had a viagrical effect in people, made them thick, and think like, at the same time. Men no longer had to indulge in foreplay, they could get straight in there without complication or interpretation needed. The word millions has the placebo affect, similar to the word bomb, gets your attention every time you hear the word uttered, without killing you though, well not for awhile. The jack flows, harry is now watching apes, and gorillas. More to his liking, cause they had hands and legs not too dissimilar to his own. They eat dog in china, st. Bernard au poivre, rover in curry, lassie on a skewer, mice wine nice wine, everyone has to survive thinks harry, eat at least. He turns sad all of a sudden. Famine time again on TV.

kissing the french...

Women, bleddy women he moaned, angry that she was almost taking over all his spare thoughts apart from taking over the world. Now on texting terms, what if she sent him something risqué. He’d asked to see a photo of her family, making the request in order to keep the fledgling friendship friendly not personal. She, madga, sounded like Magdalene, mary, the da vincii code, dan brown, theory he thought, as all thinking was just that, theory, and theory made story, he was thinking it through. Religion was sexy sometimes, magda was catholic. Maybe there’s a story in this, Hollywood thought so too, but like the film Alexander, not all hero’s can be put successfully in a can, perhaps on a poster, che guevarra one fine example of it, JFK. Religion he thought, reminding himself of the crowds that used to attend church but no longer did, everything changes and everyone, alright to lust, just don’t become addicted, he switching quickly to the girlie channel, big ones, plastic ones, egg shaped, circular, hanging, all wallpaper, each of them playing a very human role, in accordance with nature, the nourishment of human life. Fools gloated over them, many fear exposing themselves, their real selves, others for money, most out of boredom, the truly interested ones being those in the early stages of sexual awakening and experience, and those deprived of all contact with the human race. thirteen, as he remembered, seeing bardot in a late night movie, that got him going. she was alluring he thought, stretching back the years in the chair. French too, harry liked the French, bardot reminding him, bread, paris, cannes, perfume, style, and passion, even if the world pays a premium for it, the real thing that is, and Bardot was passionate. The girls on screen looked like performing seals, not in anyway alluring. He reaches for the JD, pours a good slice of it into his tall glass, filling it half, clumps in the last three ice cubes, splashes it over with coke. The bottle fizzes as he puts it down. He liked that, seeing fizz in a bottle. No more ice, he could ring down for more. He’d a lot of TV to go through, war going on in the middle east. All sides were baiting the world with propaganda, and harry had to get a handle on it if he was going to use some of it in a sermon. They kissed regularly, another reason harry liked the French. They were not afraid of hugging and kissing, less likely to go to war too..

power of thought

light can change a man into a beast, a clown into a wise person, a loving woman into a witch, more to the light than you think, can disable us instantly, reduce us to tears, thoughts of all the loves lost, thought of all the children crying, thought of all the promises we make, thought is strong sometimes weak, we choose we think we act, thought can change the world, thought you were into me, thought brought the world to it’s knees, thought i could get away with it, thought there were no consequences to that affair, thought the world was going to hell, thought I’d change it then, thought I’d say a prayer, thought gathers momentum, thoughts that are good, thoughts that make people march, thought you were okay, thought the world was made for me, thought about it all day, thought, not just a thought, but the first step to a better you, thought the time had come to revolt, thought has changed so much they say, thought you’d past your best, thoughts they sell to you and me, thought can be a friend you see, thought broke many hearts, thought allows you a new start, next time you have one of those thoughts, think is it good or bad, for all thoughts can rise and fall, bring you up or down, and why are thoughts so important, this is what I have to say, morning opens thoughts for a bright new day, thought about what has to be done, ever think about the people you’ll meet along the way, probably not, I don’t mean those you arrange to see, I don’t mean the places you’ll visit either, I’m thinking about those trapped in their thoughts, most accurately, those caught in thoughts that don’t go away, if you think about it, thought again I say, look closely at the end or middle of any day, this I state for certain, you will not be challenged on anyway, when you got up this morning, you never thought you’d be reading this page, and I’ll tell you why this thought alone is so important, more valuable a lesson in thought as they say, it’s this, and it’s a potential cure for depression or illness’s of similar kind, when you get lost in time and stuck in a dark place, it can seem like this for years, it’s the same old day the same old way and those dead inside feelings don’t seem to fade, it’s cause you don’t believe in change as they say, the cure for cynicism is to believe in today, meaning, change will occur today and by reading this your proving it one way, or to put it mildly, when I woke up this morning and you woke up this morning, neither of us could have imagined that I’d have written this and you’d be reading this, today, have a thought about it, the world has changed, purely by thought, you just have to imagine it first, thought that’s all, first step to a bright new day, a little optimism as they say, all over a thought, and what is faith in God, thoughts that act out his ways…or her ways, cause when two become one, the answer is three, one becomes two the answer is sometimes none, just a thought, like all wars, they start with a thought, so you thought that thought was just a thought, well think again..it’s been the start of every revolution the world has ever known. 

A Titanic Duel

 It was early summer. Pollen everywhere, gets to you, got to harry. TV was on news, the plight of those in danger of vileness, violence, call it as you like, everywhere. But the same people who had tried unsuccessfully to solve the middle east crisis were now trying to solve the problem of the drug crisis. There wasn't enough to go around. People were rioting in prisons. The famine crisis and global warming was making headlines too. At least war was off the menu. It was like asking a death row inmate how he felt, did he feel anything after been given the injection. How was it for you, good I hope. Have a nice day, and a thousand other stupid slogans, they all rushed into harry’s head. Maybe he was trying to keep magda away from his loins. Maybe he was learning how to focus on anything but sex, thinking a thousand miles an hour instead. Insane he chuckled as his belt unbuckled a little more. It was the subconscious at work. The biggest user of fuel, the greatest creator of pollution the world has ever known, the biggest consumers of cocaine, were leading the global struggle for survival. A titanic duel, between man and earth, and who happens to play earth in this huge production you ask. Don't think this story has a Hollywood ending, not until they change the direction of the ship, and jettison the crew...ah harry cheer up...

are you waiting for something...

How did she know, how she figured it out, kept him occupied as he entered the room, east Europeans were used to being spied on, he wondered if they were all voyeurs. You’re here on a mission he told himself, mentally adjusting himself and the chair, setting up his temporary bar on the side table, pad and pen on one side, JD and bottle of coke opposite. The TV was sent into action, the time late, the hotel almost empty, apart from the other immigrants who stayed there, those who couldn't afford to go home for xmas. The news channel was doing what it always did, news stories. A young girl found strangled announced the reader, harry listened solemnly for a few moments before the picture on screen changed. A posse of reporters were besieging the dead girls parents home. A TV reporter was telling the world how everyone in the neighborhood was shocked that such a thing could happen in suburbia. As if they didn't already know sighed harry, watching intensely, while he waited for Magda to arrive with the ice. 

Nothing is impossible...

can't do this, can't afford that, excuse after excuse, reasoned judgement, is everyone a spin doctor, in a part time way supposed harry, back to himself, his holiday over.

After a weekend in the country, harry was back to form. Prolonged tiredness had left him, the weather having the desired effect, warm and sunny. He even got in a spot of sun bathing. Re charged, he walked smartly through the lobby, nodding at magda who was busy at reception. The hotel was filling up with families. The rate they were charging him had gone up also, season was nearing peak. He’d soon be moving on, his research nearing completion. I love it he thought, going in the door of his room. It had been home for six months, one night a week, two when he had the time and could afford it. She’d cookies, ice, there waiting for him, at a time she would have been at full stretch in the hotel too. And her inklish was now English, albeit with a Yankee twang. He blamed the TV of course. Switching it on, he headed for the news, keeping up to-date with global proceedings and the wars that were never going to end. Unless you believed in change he stressed, forever reminding himself that no situation was that bad. Satisfied with a glance across the channels he took one more look at his diminishing list. It seemed an almighty task when first started; it was now looking like an awful lot done. He looked it over, the multiple lists on the pages. Channels in operation marked in red. A black line threw them meant they were off the air, bankrupt perhaps, or just simply dead. How the world had changed for the better in such a short time frame, anything is possible he smiled, as he clicked to the racing channel, where people work together.

why put up with it!

The only hope he saw, a total re birth of human religious beliefs. Families that stay together pray together, can be blown apart together. If the seed of reason can be planted, can he harvested too. reason had to listen, listening, it meant using the brain. Listening to the gods of war, explain themselves on the TV, trying to appear reasoned, putting on a show, hoping to impress all of them well educated, intellectuals, harry couldn't see how they were all men, no women, were people like sheep, as the bible says. The rules of social engagement, children were to be brought up in the religion of the husband, the list went on and on. With men so unreliable, it didn't make sense putting them under more pressure. And women were the property of the husband and children too, till all were dead. Education of the woman, she might learn to think for herself. The list of funny and odd rules the various religions used to control women made interesting TV too. The program was Swedish made. All religions he concluded, found it necessary to control the woman. When she bled, for whom she bled, by whom she bled, to the last drop, her life was managed for her. Women must be thick concluded harry, for putting up with all these rules. 

education

Education has to remain education, and not a propagation exercise for religions and governments. Lots of people are misinformed. The U.S. and many other countries are probably bankrupt. Israel was a set up. the Irish are lucky in that they never had the power to invade another country, never had the desire to invade another country either, more importantly. The only European nation not to take advantage of any other nation or people, being only interested in what was for sale, thereby making sure that there was only agro between them and the British, on account of the British having lived with them for over seven hundred years, without having paid them rent. Harry was watching the history channel. Rome had survived it all.  The British Empire had shrunk, Jerusalem was in flames two thousand years earlier, on fire this evening too,

New thinking about, two thousand years later. He’d seen it on TV a half hour ago, as he checked in with the news from all the nations. It’s wonderful what education teaches you, almost as good as history.