I Do…Sort of…Well, Not Really…

I know I shouldn’t care, none of us really should. We can’t help it though, can we? If you’ve heard the name Kim Kardashian, and bother turning on the news or reading the paper, then you know she is getting divorced after a mere seventy-two days of marriage. Now it is by no means the shortest celebrity marriage. Remember Britney Spears and her entertaining, yet terrifying, media-fueled wild days. She married Jason Alexander for a whopping fifty-four hours. Jennifer Lopez had a nine month fling in her trifecta of marriage failures. Dennis Rodman and Carmen Electra had ten days of intoxicated marital bliss. Who can forget Nick Cage marrying Lisa Marie Presley for a whole three months, much shorter than her marriage to Michael Jackson. The trials and tribulations of being a celebrity couple, I guess money really can’t buy you love.

Talking about money, the Kardashians have reportedly stated that finances had nothing to do with Kim and Kris Humphries doomed nuptials. Nope, they didn’t make a cent off it. Really? They think we are that stupid. The hype around the wedding, the hype on their reality show, the hype surrounding the broadcast of ‘Kim’s fairytale wedding’ specials has not netted them any profits directly or indirectly? The Kardashians have done much to full me with scorn, but the one thing I have always admired about them is their savvy business sense. They have basically taken nothing except fame itself, and built a media-centric financial empire around it. However, if they didn’t make anything off the ‘wedding’, then I guess I have to rethink this opinion of them.

Soon we will be told to stay out of it, that this whole thing is a personal matter. We will be asked to give the couple and their families space and time to deal with the complex emotions and pressures they are suffering. If aliens from planet Xar-Plart VII landed in the midst of the media storm, they could not help but feel sympathy for the Kardashian and Humphries families. They will wonder what tragedy has befallen these innocent victims, what dastardly calamity has wrought such emotional turmoil in their lives. Good news is they will suspend their invasion plans to turn us into their enslaved workforce once they realise this is all over a ‘sham’ wedding and its unsurprising divorce. You see, even the denizens of Xar-Plart VII don’t want stupid, mentally unhinged slaves. Personally I will not ‘leave them alone’, or ‘give them their space’. You see, I was a guest at the wedding.

Well, not an actual guest. I was invited to watch it on television with millions of others. I didn’t get to enjoy the banquet, toast with expensive champagne, or boogie the night away. I did give them a wedding present though. You see I pay my subscription fee to the cable company, they in turn pay the executives of the show for the rights to screen it. These same executives then pay the Kardashians’ salaries et al. Now the classy thing to do after a seventy-two day marriage is to return the wedding gifts and the engagement ring. Naturally, the Kardashians are doing neither, because this has nothing to do with money. Yeah, right.

Not so Fright Night

That most wonderful time of the year is nearly upon us. No, I’m not talking about Christmas, but rather Halloween. I like it. Unlike Easter, Deepavali, Hari Raya, or Yom Kippur it is not in the pocket of one of the major established religions. Oh, I’m sure some nutjob cult claims it to be their religious festival, but in reality it is nothing more than a chance for anyone who wants to blow off a little steam to do so. There is candy, nothing wrong with candy. There are scary costumes, and who doesn’t like a good fright now and then? There are parties that do not require some measure of religious zeal (or guilt), and it is okay if you don’t spend it with your family. All in all, seems to me to be a harmless chance to have a bit of fun. Unfortunately though, Halloween is being ruined. Thanks to Hollywood and other media entities, the scare is being taken out of the whole affair. Twilight has gone and ruined vampires. When a kid knocks on the door with coiffed hair, glitter all over him and a sultry look I’m not thinking vampire. Nope, I’m thinking it was a bad idea to hold a gay pride rally on the same day as Halloween. True Blood hasn’t helped either, cheap costume though. Dress in everyday clothes, buy a cheap pair of plastic vampire fangs and yell ‘Sookie!’ every now and again. Could go as a werewolf, I suppose. However, I expect to see half a dozen young men running around in cutoff jeans, shirtless with washboard abs, thanks to Twilight’s Jacob. I’m all for gay rights, but this could get very confusing.

 

There probably will be a couple of kids covered in sheets with eye holes cut out in them. I swear though, if I comment on how good a ghost they are and they reply that they are not a ghost but “a manifestation of ectoplasmic energy coalesced to form a visible apparition through the power of angst and sheer life force”, I’m giving them the box of raisins and keeping the Mars bar for myself. I’m also going to ask for the names and address of any parents who dress their kid up as Steve Jobs in an attempt to be morbidly humorous. I have a case of toilet paper, and I’m not afraid to use it. Kids who dress up as superheroes (it is Halloween, not Comic Con) are going to have to work for their treats. I’m going to make them work for the candy, by having them show me their superpowers. I live on the ninth floor, so good luck at that flying Thor, Superman, Iron Man, and Batman. Wait, I might just give Batman a pass. It is after all based on a man who witnesses the tragic murder of his parents, has a psychotic break, dresses up as a bat and becomes a vigilante without thought for the rule of law. Scary.

 

Talking about scary, here are some costume ideas I have come up with for those still facing the dilemma. Casey Anthony, now there’s a scary one. All you have to do is try to dress contrite, fake remorse, and stare blankly at people talking to each other. Occasionally burst into sobbing tears like the verdict has been read, and smile wanly at anyone who looks your way. Psychopaths like John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, and Jeffrey Dhamer got theirs. She’s out there, and that scares the hell out of me. Another scary one, Dr Conrad Murray. For this Mr Sandman-esque costume, all you need is a copy of the Hippocratic oath on a placard with a big red cross through it and a fistful of cash. Just like a sadistic dentist, pyromaniacal fireman and a fitness instructor, a death-dealing doctor is the stuff of nightmares.

 

Of course you don’t have to dress up as a person to elicit fear. How about SARS, N1H1 or any other ABC virulent disease. Not as a victim of these diseases, mind you. There’s a good chance that if you go around knocking on doors displaying the symptoms of these diseases that you’re going to end up in some sterile CDC hospital. No, go as the diseases themselves. I mean malaria kills nearly 800 000 people a year. Getting the costume right might mean having to crack open a medical text-book or two, but I’m sure there is an app for that. Talking of apps, why not dress up as an iPhone or iPad. There’s something scary. Here you can run the whole gamut of evil in the world. Repressive Chinese labour practices, capitalism unchained, environmental degradation due to the disposal of previous models, the devolution of face to face social communication, and the creation of knobs who think they are all that because they’ve got their hands on the latest versions. Yup, I like Halloween. It is getting harder though. Oh, you’re a witch. No, I’m a wiccan. Vampire? Nope, just the emo-kid delivering the pizza. Who are you supposed to be? I’m Bella from Twilight. Me too, and me! She’s not even scary, just Kristen Stewart’s acting is. Not looking forward to opening the door to a gang of Spidermen, ranging from the tall gangly kid a foot above all the others in his grade to the fat kid with half his stomach not even covered by the costume. Not even going to open the door for anyone dressed in a mask from the Scream movies, a plot hole that seems to have evaded the writers of the series. Zombies, nah, I see one every morning when I look in the mirror. The only sure way of getting any candy off me in this year of economic realities is to dress as a clown. They scare me.

 

A lot.

What’s in a Name?

I have lived in Asia for many years, and have noticed a strange cultural phenomena. You see, in the Asian countries I have lived in, people tend to have two names. The first is the name they were bestowed with at birth, the second is their ‘English-name’. This ‘English-name’ is sometimes chosen by their parents, or chosen by themselves, or occasionally a random ‘Westerner’ is asked to christen them. As you can imagine the results are sometimes less than desirable.

 

In one country a popular brand of motorcycle emerged at some point in time named ‘The Duke’. An unlucky parade of young boys from then on sported the name Duke. Titanic, the film and not the actual disaster, was very well received in Asia. As a result you had a sudden explosion in the use of the names Jack and Rose, and they weren’t always gender specific in designation. Apple, Pear and Peach are somewhat acceptable first names, but when we start getting Watermelon, Cantaloupe and Banana then we are in the realm of the hysterically surreal.

 

Western English teachers are also responsible for some of the odd names. Often these teachers are asked to name the children. Now, the sensible ask for their Asian name and try to think of a simple English one that sounds familiar. So it may be suggested to a child that Amy is a good name. It sounds like their Asian name and is relatively easy to spell and remember. Naturally the child will return to class the next day with its name changed to Jorella, because it sounds more Western. Then you have the jokers. A class with a Luke, Leia, Han and Darth was the result of one teachers enthusiasm foe all things Star Wars. Another simply named the children after their dead pets, including Rusty and Rover.

 

Spelling mistakes by parents also lead to some confusion. Mare and Marry are to be pronounced Mary. Bran, Brayn, and Brine are somehow to be called Brian. Now, I am aware that in the states there are a host of African-American names that seem strange at first. For example one may argue that Latoya, Latrice, Lashawn, Denelle, Danisha, Tanisha, Lamarr and DaJon are not classical English names. However, if one studies the evolution and etymology of these names one can reveal the cultural basis for them. In Asia, it is just people trying to get creative. Vionettela and Aldolin are not names as much as they are just a couple of letters thrown together.

 

Then you have those that wish to avoid this curse of creative names and dig far back into the past. Aloysius, Leonora, Thaddeus, Prudence, Edmund, Corliss and Zaccheus are not cool and modern, despite parents insisting that they are. You have to remember that these are to be paired with their Asian last name. Ezekial Lee is just a name with far to many vowels. You try not to laugh when your doctor announces herself as Princess Hung. Barack Obama may be a presidential name some find hard to swallow, but somebody called Bancroft Chang is not even going to get on the ballot.

 

Finally you have the parents that just don’t give a damn. Boy, Baby and X show not only a lack of imagination but a degree of negligence. Naming your kid Bong or Reefer because you heard the word somewhere is simply not kind. Cracking open a medical dictionary and settling on Labia, Vulva or Scapula is child abuse, plain and simple.

 

Now I know you are thinking that I am just being mean and mocking this practice. I suppose I am, for a reason. When asked why they have adopted a Western name, most will reply that it is because their real name is hard for Westerners to pronounce. While this is true in most cases I also believe that due to Western influence in these countries through the media and retail outlets, it is socially ‘cool’ to have a Western name. No, no…its for when we do business with Westerners. Really? A strange, oft misspelled, name helps you out there, huh? As for it being easier for Westerners, well the least we could damn well do being a guest is to learn how to pronounce Asian names correctly.

 

Be proud of your name, I am. It not only honours someone in death but is part of my identity, who and what I am. I wear it like a badge of pride, and won’t be changing it to suit a specific cultural or social trend. It is just a name, I hear you cry. Why make such a big deal about it? Well, Adolf was just a name. Lucifer was just a name. You don’t see those very often nowadays do you? Well, except for maybe here in Asia.

H+

It is rare, nowadays, that a game gets me thinking. Deus Ex: Human Revolution is just a game. It is set in the not too distant future, in a world where science has made a leap forward in the augmentation of the human body. Amputees receive cybernetic limbs that function even better than the ones they lost. The blind can see again, and can even see through walls. The deaf can hear, but to the extent of eavesdropping on the conversation on the far side of a crowded room. In the world of Deus Ex the human body can be repaired from the brink of death, and the original improved upon.

 

That would be typical of us as a species. Why merely replace something, when it can be improved upon. It is one side of our nature, a need to explore the unknown and to uncover discoveries once thought to be impossible. We did not just develop a rocket that could reach the moon, we had to put a man on the lunar surface. We did not simply concur gravity, but created vehicles that can fly faster than the speed of sound. Human development will inextricably be tied to the development of our technology. From the discovery of fire to the iPhone, our entire society and way of life has been shaped and moulded by our technological development.

 

Naturally there are those that view such development with disdain and even outright scorn. The Amish eschew modern conveniences on religious grounds, things that most of us consider necessities. There are ‘tribes’ in Africa and South America that have been isolated from the rest of humanity for so long that our modern marvels seem to be far too mysterious and unnatural. In Deus Ex, it is the Purity First organisation. This is a dedicated anti-augmentation group that believes humanity is losing its essence by giving in to the temptation of improving on God’s work. Their position is strengthened by the fact that in order to ensure that implants to the human body are not rejected, recipients are forced to take anti-rejection drugs for the rest of their lives. Don’t take the drug and your body rejects the implants, and can even lead to a form of psychosis.

 

I know what you’re thinking, this a load of fantasy and pseudoscience. Then again, I wonder if Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry was thinking that one day people would be walking around with blue tooths (blue teeth?) stuck in their ears when he came up with the show’s futuristic handheld communicator? Remember those datapads they were always passing to each other, reminds me of the iPad I have to say. Science fiction has the sometimes unsettling ability to transform into science fact. Our computers are becoming smaller, and faster. How long before the first sub-dermal communication system, with GPS, is marketed as an acceptable ‘augmentation’? It will probably be called NEWear, or more than likely the iEar.

 

Will we stop there? Doubt it. We have cochlear implants already to give the deaf some semblance of hearing, Lasik to repair our eyes, and use plastic surgery to repair defects such as clubbed feet and cleft palates. We also use plastic surgery to ‘enhance’ other bodily attributes, and even change genders. One of the issues the Purity First organisation has in Deus Ex is that individuals without any medical problems opt for augmentations. Healthy limbs and organs are removed to give people an ‘edge’, and leads to more individuals becoming addicted to the anti-rejection drugs.We already have our so-called sports heroes doping themselves up, universities dedicated to grooming an intellectual and financial elite, and companies employing the most sophisticated technologies to monopolise markets. Will we be able to refuse the temptation to augment ourselves, especially if others are doing so? It will just become a game of keeping up with the cybernetic and augmented Joneses.

 

It has long been argued by theologians, scientists and philosophers that technology is to be the means by which humanity erases itself from history. This naturally conjures up images of global nuclear war, accidentally released biological or chemical weapons, or the destruction of our environment. However, Deux Ex offers us another possible way for humanity to become extinct. There is a possibility that humanity will disappear with a whimper rather than a bang. In the merging of man and machine we are likely to lose what we perceive to be our humanity, to evolve and transform into something else. As we use technology to eliminate aging, enhance our physical bodies, expand our intellects and mature psychologically, we will no longer be what we today define as ‘human’. Our hunter gatherer ancestors were certainly human, but their humanity was not comparable to ours. Similarly these augmented transhumans will view their humanity far differently than we view our own. It is not merely a philosophical transformation ala Nietzsche’s Übermensch, but a tangible, physical transformation. Is a person with more than fifty percent of their body augmented and artificially replaced still human, or are they something else? Is our humanity defined by our actions or what we are?

 

A final analogy, if you will. Consider the liger, a hybrid from the breeding of a lion and a tiger. It is neither tiger nor lion, but is both. It is rare, but now imagine that every lion bred with a tiger, until all we are left with is ligers. Do we then still refer to it as a cross-breed, a hybrid? Has it not become something entirely different if we can no longer refer to it in terms of its extinct ancestors? Humanity has the real possibility of one day facing this question. One day we might find ourselves so merged with our technology that it becomes difficult to define where the human begins and the machine ends. On that day we will have to admit that humanity (as we view it today) has been eradicated, and search for a new meaning to what it means to be.

 

Dancing with Disasters

In spite of the civil war in Libya, the massacres in Syria, the Israel-Turkey dispute, the famine in Somalia, and the global economic crises, the breaking news story is that Chaz Bono is to appear on Dancing With the Stars. There are online protests springing up at a steady rate calling for a boycott of the show and ABC. Chat forums are aflame with outrageous indignation that families should be subjected to such a spectacle on what is touted to be a family friendly show. If you had never heard of Chaz Bono before, it would not be surprising if you concluded that this nefarious character must be someone in the same vein as Casey Anthony or Charles Manson. If you have heard of Chaz Bono, then you know he was born Chastity Sun Bono, the daughter of Cher and Sonny Bono in 1969. There’s the rub. He is now the son of Cher, Chaz Bono, after undergoing female to male gender transition. That doesn’t mean he merely started wearing some of his mother’s dresses, but rather involved hormone manipulation, sharp scalpels and apparently a very bad haircut.

Now, Dancing With the Stars has not been without controversies in the past. The most recent include the Bristol Palin affair, where online groups banded together to keep the daughter of Sarah on the show even with her rather lacklustre performances. On the other side of the crazy coin you had her receiving death threats and threats to break her toes because she was the daughter of Sarah. The pregnant man, Thomas Beatie, has lashed out at the show and Chaz for stealing his chance to strut his stuff on the dance floor. Then you have Carson Kressley, an openly gay celebrity-slash-reality television star-slash-fashionista, who execs were considering pairing with a male dancing partner. Carson is probably heaving a giant sigh of relief as Chaz has deflected the hate that could have come his way. These controversies all pale in comparison to the category five hurricane brewing in the Chaz Bono teacup. Why?

Thanks to Americas other reality show, politics, we see it is a rather polarised nation. Apparently on the right you have raving lunatics wishing back the era of the founding fathers, but without the polio and dysentery. On the left you have raving lunatics who think socialism and communism were great ideas, and the former USSR just got it wrong. All right, all right. Ridiculous extremes, but you do have the pro-life groups in direct opposition to those who support the right to choose. You have those that are all for universal healthcare and those that say healthcare is not the government’s responsibility. You have those calling for gay marriage to be legal and recognised, and those that say it degrades the sanctity of the institution. You have democrats and republicans, you have liberals and conservatives, you have lefts and rights, you have the yeas and the nays. The headache in all of this democracy is that the sides seem to be relatively even. Half the country on one side of the fence, and other half glaring at them on the other side. Those brave enough, or cowardly enough, to sit on the aforementioned fence merely shake their heads and stare at the other two camps in bewilderment. Out of all of this democracy, this wonderful democracy that allows for different views and positions, comes the most inalienable right all Americans are free to enjoy. The right to vote off contestants on reality television programs. I’m sure George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson are beaming with pride.

When we look at this polarised America, we can clearly see that the liberal half will applaud Chaz Bono and his courage, and the other half will curse his name and condemn him to the fires of hell. Moreover, we are all going to get to watch it. I predict one of two possible endings to this season of the dancing show. Firstly, Chaz Bono is going to be a fairly good dancer but still get voted off early even though he is better than his competition. A victory for the conservatives who don’t want this kind of filth on television and polluting the minds of their angelic offspring. Secondly, Chaz Bono is a terrible dancer but stays in the competition due to mass votes from pro-Chaz groups ala Bristol Palin. A victory, albeit hollow, for those that want to see America embrace all of her children as equals. A third, a third, I hear you cry. What? You think Chaz Bono is going to display such dazzling foot work that his opponents put aside their animosity and vote for him on merit alone? You think Chaz Bono is going to be so atrocious that even the LGBT community will admit that they can’t vote for that? Nope. Not going to happen. This is not about dancing, although it is about ratings. The vote on this show is going to be about ‘alternative’ lifestyles and their place in America.  If America can’t find consensus on abortion, marriage, religion and race through its social and political systems, then I don’t think a dancing show is going help find any agreement on this issue.

Post Scriptum

When I was a kid, and you were a nerd you got the proverbial kicked out of you. Thanks to Bill Gates and the gang, being a nerd is no longer merely associated with being a worthless bookworm, but potentially a success one day. Nobody wants to beat up on a kid that may one day be your employer. When I was kid, and  playing Dungeons and Dragons made you a social pariah. Thanks to ‘cool’ stars like Vin Diesel coming out of the D&D closet and the mainstreaming of fantasy, being a dungeon master will no longer mean you are going to burn in the fires of hell. When I was a kid, and you were in the choir you were tormented and taunted. Thanks to Glee you are now cool, talented, accepted and precious. When I was a kid, and you were a male ballroom dancer you got labelled homosexual and belittled. Thanks to Dancing With the Stars you are a talented, artistic athlete. Now, if someone out there in TV land wouldn’t mind undertaking a project that makes beer swilling, red meat-eating, couch potato reclining, trekkie-loving cool, I would really appreciate it. I mean, just like Chaz we all have our own crosses to bear.

Write or Wrong

As most of you are probably aware, Borders bookstores have started closing down. The Borders Group filed for Chapter 11 in February 2011, and after filing for Chapter 7 they will liquidate all their stores by September 2011. After being in business for over 40 years, the bookstores will no longer be servicing the reading needs of cities, towns and communities. I suppose it can all be blamed on tough economic times and the hardships of recession. Perhaps it was poor management and inopportune business decisions. More than likely though, we can all point a finger at the digital age and scream how it is ‘ruining everything’.

 

For a while now the debate has raged regarding how much of an impact the internet has had on newspaper sales. Some argue that newspaper sales have never been stronger, and still others believe the internet has made the newspaper business more efficient. Now when I was younger, in the days before the internet, I read the newspaper every single day. I read the news articles, the weather report, tried to work out what all the numbers meant in the financial pages, and had a chuckle at the comic strips. Today, I sit here trying to recall the last time I actually bought a newspaper, and can’t. Sure my grandfather still reads the newspaper daily, to him the ‘interwebs’ is some dangerous and mysterious creature that should be treated with the same wariness as a pet lion. Ironic really, especially when you consider that when the man was born television wasn’t around, talking in motion pictures was still ten years away, the first Ford had only been on sale for a little over ten years, and putting a man on the moon was ‘crazy talk’. The flip side of this is that I bet a could go out and find a handful of tech-savvy kids that have never so much as held a newspaper in their hands.

 

How long before this fate befalls books? I love books, always have and always will. It is the joy of books that have led me to chase the elusive dream of becoming an author. There is something magical about holding a book in your hands, feeling the textures of the pages and inhaling that scent of the printed word. Older books, with their cracked leather covers and musty pages are even more fantastical. An unread book holds so much promise for the reader. What amazing journey will it take them on, where will their imagination fly off to? What knowledge will be learnt, what skill developed, what dream inspired? It always amazes me how a jumble of symbols on a page, organised in the right order and structure, can make one laugh or cry. It comes as no surprise to me that most of the world’s major religions have the tenets of their faith inscribed in the pages of their respective ‘Good Book’. A book is a symbol, a very powerful one. A book is captured fantasy, thought made tangible.

Then we have the Kindle.

Then we have the iPad.

Then we have the Nook.

Really, a Nook?

Hey, what you reading? I’m reading the Iliad on my Nook. Really?

 

Have you ever played that game with friends around the dinner table when you ask, “If you were stranded on an island, what three books would you take?” Have you ever had the smartass across from you answer, “Haha, I’ll just take my Kindle. It can hold over 2000 books.” Have you ever had to fight the nearly irrepressible urge to lunge across a table at someone’s throat so you can choke the life out of them?

 

I don’t know. Perhaps I am just turning into my grandfather, perhaps my ‘interwebs’ are those devil machines called ‘e-books’. That being said, I will giggle when I hear that someone can’t catch up on their reading because they forgot to charge their device. I will take delight during the power outage when I am sitting and reading my book by candlelight, as the battery slowly dies on their ‘e-book’. I will shake my head, and reaffirm my beliefs on religion, when I hear someone is downloading their holy book. I am not a technophobe, I know the world and its conveniences have to and will evolve. I understand the saving of trees, and the convenience offered by ‘e-books’. I realise they will hopefully provide accessibility to those historically and economically denied the right to books. Still, as I pass the next bookstore I see, I will pause for a moment and physically salute something that will soon be part of a bygone era. I will choke back a small tear as a piece of magic prepares to blink out of this world. On a more sobering note. The human race has a despicable tendency to burn books, to physically destroy thoughts and ideas deemed to be contradictory to some cause or another. Think how easy it will be for those tyrannical autocrats to exert their ‘mind policing’ now. All they have to do his hit the delete key.

Breaking News

In 2007 it was noted that there were over 6580 daily newspapers, a staggering 395 million copies sold each day. Now I don’t know about you but that is a whole lot of news. A stark contrast to Ancient Rome, where official government announcements were carved into either metal or stone and left in public places for all to read. We can argue that the first true ‘newspaper’ was the handwritten avissi that were circulated in Venice in 1556, monthly. Prior to the days we have mislabeled ‘modern times’, most people just wandered around in a clueless haze about the state of the world. I suppose trying to stave off the Plague, Inquisition, wars with pointy swords and the ransacking of whole cities, subsistence living and the extremely low levels of literacy probably played a large part in creating this state of affairs. Still, I have to wonder if these pre-modern individuals weren’t happier than us in our media saturated lives.

So here we are. All the news of the world sitting around the corner at the newstand, or merely a mouse click away. It is marvellous, it is wonderous, a piece of human ingenuity that clearly displays are superiority over the beasts of the field and the wilds. Then we have the News of the World. Well, we had the News of the World. The phone hacking scandal has seen those doors slam shut so hard that it nearly roused Rupert Murdoch from his vampiric slumber. As this news organisation is thrown on the pyre of public outrage, you know that dozens of other news ‘gathering’ enterprises are busy deleting hard drives, destroying recordings and shredding paper in a demented fury. I would never be so brazen as to argue that the reason celebrities, murder victims, victims of terrorist attacks and the widows of slain soldiers had their phones hacked was because of our insatiable appetite to have the news, and all of the news, right now. I don’t think I need to.

Then, across the pond, we have twenty-four hour a day coverage of the Casey Anthony trial. Now I cannot say with one hundred percent clarification whether or not she is responsible for the death of her daughter, Caylee. My gut tells me one thing, but my head says I have to abide by the jury’s decision that she is not guilty. I might not be a pillar of wisdom, but I consider myself wise enough to know that not guilty does not necessarily mean innocent. Still, the news channels with their very toothy commentators tell me I should be outraged, that I should inflamed by the travesty of justice that saw Casey Anthony go free. Huh. Here I was thinking that the news is supposed to give the facts, rather than form my opinion for me. Maybe CNN needs to change its name to the Cable Opinion Network, goodbye FOX News and hello FOX Opinions (*idiotic ravings of lunatic hosts free of charge).

The News of the World phone hacking controversy, the Casey Anthony trial, and the royal visit to Canada and the US all seem to be more worthy of coverage than the fact that new country has joined the world. The Republic of South Sudan has joined the global community, a new country filled with the hope of a better life for its citizens. A new country, a back page story? A new country, an amusing side to end the evening news on?

Oh, well, nothing I can do about all of this. It seems I will just have to sit and sift through all the ridiculous, so-called news to find the things that truly matter. All I have to do to find the true news is endure articles about if Elvis still alive, how that woman who gave birth to that alien baby is doing, if purple really is the new black, how many psychics it takes to solve a murder, if those ghost hunters have found that undeniable truth of the paranormal, whether or not Donald Trump’s hair is real, and who really killed Michael Jackson. I have to chuckle as I think back to that early Ancient Roman news reporter. I wonder if he would have carved, “Caesar seen at the Grove of Dionysus!”, “Cyclops Sighted!”, “Ten Skin Tips From Venus Herself”, and “Brutus and Caesar – More than Just Friends?” onto those stone tablets? Would he have shaken his head if told to do so, and thought that the Roman Empire was heading for a fall?

…And in Last Place…

For every winner there must be a loser. Even at those ridiculous sports events where every child receives a medal or trophy for ‘participating’, everybody knows who came first and who came last. Proponents of this ‘participatory’ system argue that it is in the best interest of the child to instill a sense of pride in taking part, that playing by the rules is key, that the game itself is bigger than being winner or loser. We can try to sterilise our children from the realities of the world, but when it comes time for college applications it seems the winners attend prestigious universities and the losers enjoy a life in the fast food service industry. Unfortunately not all are created equal, there are winners and losers, the best and the worst. It is believed that in ancient Sparta newborns were left on a hillside overnight. If they survived they were deemed worthy of receiving training to become a member of Spartan society, if not…well, they died. Talk about taking this idea of ‘participation’ to new heights.

I suppose the real problem is the amount of emphasis we put on these winners. I know that at the 1936 Olympics Jesse Owens blasted his way to a gold medal, and shattered Nazi Aryan pride, in the 100 metres sprint. I have no idea who came last. Michael Phelps won his seventh gold medal, setting himself up for an eighth, in the 100 metre butterfly finals of the Beijing Olympics. Who came last? No clue. In 1954 Roger Barrister ran the first sub-4-minute mile, and in last place of that race was…don’t know. We immortalise the winners, and the last of the losers fade into history with their names not recalled and their deeds unremembered. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that it must be pretty easy if you are Jesse Owens, Michael Phelps or Roger Barrister to be a winner. Things were obviously on their side, and by things I mean the opportunities, God given genetics, and psychological profile. Whoever came last was obviously not as blessed.

Personally, I get irritated when people speak of an athlete’s great courage, inner strength and bravery to win gold. I am much more impressed by number eight, or twelve, or whatever the dead last number of a particular race was. Those who usually obtain the position of stone last are not even considered the outside bet, the underdog. They have no chance of winning, and usually finish up when the cheers for the victor are already dying out. If you want to talk about bravery, guts, and a can-do attitude, there it is. I mean why not just have Phelps, or whoever, and the silver and bronze contenders race it out. It is usually predictable who is going to win based on preparation, previous form and current conditions. No, that would be boring. Why? Simple, the real heart and spirit of a sport is not with the winners but rather with the losers.

Sport is not the only arena such failure should be admired. Somewhere, out there, is the world’s worst doctor. They just managed to get through medical school and only through the grace of a higher power did they complete their internship. They are one surgery, one diagnosis, or one prescription away from having it all come tumbling down on their heads, yet they persevere. Now I can get behind, and admire, that. The world’s worst politician. In some twisted democracy there are two contenders, and only two. The winner receives one hundred percent of the votes, and the loser not a single one. Not even the losers mother voted for them as they thought them to be a complete incompetent. Then the winner, during his victory speech, keels over and dies. The loser, completely unelected, is now in line to take the position, and they do. Something like that takes more than courage, it takes an iron will to fly in the face of such opposition and rise to the challenge. What about the world’s worst soldier. They may have just finished training, and are preparing for deployment to a battle zone. Everyone in their squad knows this worst will catch a bullet the minute boots touch down on hostile soil. The soldier knows this, but they will be the first out and naturally the first to die. If that isn’t deserving of a medal I don’t know what is.

The musician Beck wrote a song named, ‘Loser’. Unfortunately it was a great hit, making Beck a winner. I say unfortunately because if it had been a flop, number one hundred out of the top one hundred, it could have become an anthem for those who find glory in taking last place, for being the worst at what they do but still struggle to see it through. None of us want to be the worst. We all strive to be better, and there is nothing wrong with that. Still that doesn’t mean we should take away from those who have achieved their own greatness through being the worst, through being a loser. I will cheer for the world’s worst serial killing who trips and stabs themself to death on their first outing, I will cheer for the world’s worst driver who writes their car off in their own driveway, I will cheer for the olympic swimmer who still has to swim their final lap as the crowd cheers for the finished winner, I will cheer for the fat kid at the school athletics day who will come last in every single running event. If doing so makes me a loser, well then all I can do is quote Beck, “in the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey,” and be proud of it.

Reality Check

The Romans had hordes of angry barbarians and a general malaise, the Mayans had overpopulation, possible ecological disasters and foreign invasion. Ancient Greece had the Romans and the rise of Christianity, the Aztecs had the Spanish coupled with the diseases they brought with them. Communist Russia had Gorbachev, social and economic pressures, and the influence of Western democracy, Yugoslavia had ethnic wars…and more ethnic wars. Ancient Egypt, the Incas, the Kingdom of Kush, The Third Reich, Babylonia, Carthage, Sparta, Ming China, the Mongol Empire, and a host of other empires and civilizations have been wiped off the face of the planet. Some have left surviving remnants, while others were completely obliterated. The reasons for the demise of such entities are numerous, but you can be certain that most people living in these times thought their civilizations was going to last for an eternity. I believe we, in the modern world, have fallen into the same trap even though the first sign of our demise is knocking on the door of extinction. This time it is going to be global, and it is going to be the fault of reality television broadcasting.

 

You just can’t escape it. You can try, but unless you decide to go and live in the woods, ala the Unibomber, you can’t. Even if you do try to run from it by adopting the life hermitage, you’re likely to find a Hollywood producer banging on your door and suggesting a reality series based around your attempts to escape reality. ‘The Life and Times of Ted Kaczynski, an explosive new reality series’ would have been a reality show that would have had these producers murdering each other on the streets of LA for the right to produce it. Again, not a bad idea for a reality show. I have never watched an episode of the Jersey Shore, but I unfortunately know who The Situation and JWOWW are. Never watched the bachelor but I know it involves some handsome, desperate guy (who will later be revealed to have some serious emotional if not mental issues) searching for love, and something known as a Rose Ceremony. How do I know these folks? I watch the news. Well, it used to be the news, and is now slowing devolving into a perverse reality show of its own. Take the Glenn Beck show on Fox. When did hate, bigotry, pseudo-political theory, conspiracy theories and a raving lunatic start to qualify as news? I suppose at the same time that the likes of Donald Trump and Sarah Palin are considered potential candidates for the presidency of the United States, the defacto leader of the Free World.

 

This brings us to the meat of the matter. This past week Donald Trump and Sarah Palin met ‘spontaneously’ in New York to share a slice a pizza. The press coverage was astounding, and the reports around the lunch verged on the titillation usually reserved for reality ‘stars’. Granted it was important to cover the meeting, as much as it would have been for the free press to be at Nazi Wannsee Conference where the plans for the Final Solution to the Jewish Problem were discussed. The thought of either of these two being elected to the office of President of the United States is enough to curdle milk and prevent the hens from laying. Moreover, these two and reality television are nearly inseparable.

 

Donald Trump is a highly succesful businessman whose foray into the world of reality television involves ’wannabe’ apprentices jumping through hoops that remotely resemble business tasks for the amusement of their egomaniacal, megalomania fueled boss-to-be. He’s got the money, he’s got the fame, he’s got the respect of the global business community, and he wants a shot at the brass ring. So, what is the first thing he does? He decides to debate the legality of President Obama’s citizenship, he throws his hat in with those ‘birthers’ whose racist arrogance cannot allow them to support a president who is not white. These are folks who are in the same category as those that believe they can commune with dead, that ETs are held in Area 51, Elvis is still alive, and that Bigfoot stole their picnic basket. His remarks and wild-eyed demeanor turned the news coverage of his bid for the presidency into a realtime reality show, all stupidity and no substance. Problem is, there are still supporters out there who think he would make a rather good president.

 

Then we have Sarah Palin. I support equal rights for woman, I believe in the equality of the sexes. In my mind a patriarchal society that deems woman to be sub-human or less-than is nothing more than an unjustiable affront to half the people on earth. Then along comes Sarah Palin, and feminism whelps in pain. She is a not an unnatrractive woman, has risen to power and prestige in a historically male dominated arena, is a mother and a wife. She appears to be a poster child for feminism and an icon for woman everywhere, then she opens her mouth. Just Google ‘Sarah Palin quotes’, and feel your IQ drop. Moreover, here is woman whose platform is conservative family values and then her daughter gets knocked up, out-of-wedlock, by some creep. Add to that using her Downs Syndrome child as a political prop during her rallies to become vice-president, as well as her quaint yet unsettling hunting anecdotes, and we have a reality television star in the making. Oh wait, that has already happened with ‘Sarah Palin’s Alaska’. Dangerous title. In a single swipe it seems to suggest that she is responsible for putting Alaska on the map, and simultaneously wipes away all the historical sacrifices of those who have struggled, fought and died for the state. Still, I suppose ‘Lizzie Borden Reincarnated’, or ‘Who Said the Devil Was a Man’ are titles being saved for other shows.

 

Now picture this, a reality king such as Trump and the reality queen Palin decide to run on the same ticket. President and vice-president of the United States. Imagine the White House painted gold and blinged up Trump style, moose wandering the lawns for when Palin gets a little homesick. I don’t mean literally, but I think the image serves as a pretty decent representation of what their domestic and international policies would be. The good thing is you will be able to catch every foot in the mouth comment, every slight to foreign dignitaries, every jaw dropping act of stupidity on their new reality series, ‘The White House R Us’ or the ‘Pitbull with Lipstick and the Hairpiece’. The only saving grace is that such a scenario is improbable as these two self-centred, self-important individuals are unlikely to be able to agree on who should be president and who the vice president. God bless America indeed.

 

You might be thinking that I’m not American so what gives me the right to comment on this, or why should I even be bothered by this. Well, like the Japanese, Vietnamese, Koreans, Iraqis, Libyans, Western Europeans, Eastern Europeans, Afghanis, and Africans I am not so naive as to believe that what happens in the US isn’t going to impact me in some way. More importantly, if I’m going to be subjected to images of Runway designers, island survivors, Snooki, Top Models, and Iron Chefs as I try to learn about real issues via the print, television and internet media, then that gives me a right to voice my dire warnings. We have a front row seat to the End of It All. Reality television might have been the first herald, but when we turn our politicians into reality stars we are heading for the Apocalypse. Forget whether they can make sound policy, pass noble laws or even name the capitals of foreign nations, as long as they are entertaining we’ll keep them around and not vote them off the island.

 

I’ll keep a seat empty for you on the next handbasket to Hell.

 

 

Written Under Protest

It is my opinion that the proof of the succesful implementation of democracy in a nation is the ability to protest. To protest safely without the fear of reprisal from the authorities, or in less friendlier nations, being tossed into the back of a van and never be seen again. Such protests can be large-scale gatherings of thousands, or a single individual wishing to express their personal displeasure. The protestors must stick to the rules. No vandalism, no rioting and certainly no violence. Doing any of these makes a mockery of the whole idea of protesting in a viable and sustainable democracy. As the old, and oft misattributed, adage goes “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” The right to protest peacefully on any issue should become the gold standard by which democracy should be judged, rather than faked and forced elections that merely ensure a place at the UN dining table and access to IMF funds. While all protests are to be treated equal, that is not to say all protestors should be.

Watching a news report I had the fortune to see a protestor in the Middle-East proudly brandishing a sign reading, “Deth to Amerikans”. It did not have the desired effect. For a protest to be taken seriously, the protestors themselves have to be serious. Regardless of whether or not English is your first language, a sign with such spelling errors fails to deliver on the sinister promise of mass genocide. Rather one appears to be unintelligent, idiotic and uncivilised. It is a bit like when a completely drunk, one-legged man who has lost his prosthesis challenges to “kick your ass” in a bar fight. Unfortunately spelling errors are not the only way a protest can be completely derailed by a poor sign. Take these too gems, “Die for something…is better than love for nothing…” and “BEHEAD those that say ISLAM is violent”. For the first, I am certain something got very lost in the translation, but I do enjoy the overuse of ellipses, suggesting that there are more pearls of wisdom in store. Hopefully something like, ‘live for nothing…give for everything…’ or ‘die for everything…give me something’. I suggest the sign maker apply for a job at the advertising agencies associated with those shoe companies that adopt meaningless drivel as their slogans. As for the second sign, well besides the obvious, I love the way ‘behead’ and ‘Islam’ are in bold. Most world religions try to avoid such connections. Word associations such as ‘Catholicism and paedophile’, ‘Hinduism and child bride’, ‘Judaism and bacon sandwich’, ‘Orthodoxy and funny hats’ and ‘Protestantism and meh, whatever’ should be avoided at all costs.

 I don’t want to give the impression that I am picking on the non English-speaking Muslim world. Believe you me, the signs of some English speaking protestors are just as ridiculous, if not more so as they a written in their mother tongue. Remember the ‘I HAVE A DRAEM’ and ‘I HAVE A DERAM’ of Obama supporters during the US election campaign. There were racist jokes abound due to the fact the supporters were African American,…meanwhile in the village of Crestwood a sign endorsed by the mayor read, ‘English is our Langauge / No exections / Learn it”. While protesting in favor of tax reform in the US a brave protestor held up the sigh, ‘Get a Brian / MORANS!’. Not too sure who this Moran is and why on earth does he need Brian? Same cause different protest, ‘NOW LOOK! / Nice People Forced to / PROTEST / This Must Be Serious / We Came Unarmed This Time’. I love the little passive-aggressive ending to this one. Then there was the activist with the sign, ‘Woman Right Now!’. Either this protestor has serious spelling issues or, and I’m solely inferring this from her haircut and attire, was merely a lesbian at the rally making an urgent demand for a life partner.

The Christian nut jobs of the Westboro Baptist Church, infamous for protesting at the funerals of fallen soldiers, are very meticulous in their sign making. Their disgusting messages are not worthy of being repeated here, but as a Christian group they really should check their punctuation. “GODS” and “GOD’s” are not interchangeable. “GODS MESSAGE” suggests more than one god, perhaps a plethora, a pantheon. I missed out on a lot of Sunday school, but I thought Christianity had one God, infallible in all. However, the existence of the Westboro Baptist Church suggests that even God makes mistakes.

 While I believe protests should be taken seriously, I also believe that others should have a right to comment on them. This has been done brilliantly by several individuals joining the protestors with their own signs. Amidst a group of women’s right activists a sole man holding the sign, ‘Make me a Sandwich!’. At a gay rights rally, ‘I can’t believe we still have to protest this crap!’, and killing two birds with a single stone, ‘War is Immoral / Gays are fabulous’. Others include, ‘Except for Ending Slavery / Fascism / Nazism / WAR HAS NEVER SOLVED ANYTHING,’ ‘The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own,’ ‘If Guns Kill People / Do pencils misspell words?’, ‘I Fought Nazis / and they don’t look like / Obama’, and ‘F*CK THE POPE….but remember to use a condom.’ Then there are those who desire to protest without a cause. A protestor stands among the anti-war demonstrators proudly lifting his sign high, ‘My Arms Are Tired’. In among a throng of Tea Party taxation protestors this pops up, ‘END GLEE THEME NIGHTS’, along with, ‘Where’s Waldo?’. Finally there are those that are merely there for the spirit of the affair. ‘I’M SO ANGRY I MADE THIS SIGN!’, ‘Down with bad stuff!’, ‘People Against / People who Protest’, ‘We believe in / Blah-blah-blah’, ‘Pacman Hates Ghosts,’ and ‘ماكدونالدز / relax / it says McDonald’s’.

Then we have the winner, a single sign that sums up the spirit and integrity of protests. It was hoisted aloft by a man during the recent protests in Egypt. It was not witty, it was not even well written, but it was direct, succinct and translated the man’s position very clearly. ‘MUBARAK / You go Away / I go Home / The End.’