There were times when enormous queues were lining up for thorough frisking and embarrassing questioning only for El-Al flights. Only Israel-bound flights had plain-cloth marshals eavesdropping on passengers’ conversations, shoe-searching and meticulous customer background checks days before the actual check-in.
What used to be an eyebrow-raising curiosity, has become a daily routine for all airline passengers. The whole world is Israel now.
The chain reaction that has put everybody’s reality on fire is like this. Great Britain sponsored a forceful removal of Palestinian Arabs in favour of the fledgling Jewish state. Courtesy of a powerful Zionist lobby the US of A took over in unconditional military and financial support of Israel. UK and USA in the eyes of the Moslem world equal the West. Effectively anyone with Europeoid features can thus be viewed now as an instigator of Palestinian suffering. The controlled explosion of the Twin Towers planted in our brains the image of Arab facial features as synonymous with terrorism.
They have been through it many times but they never seem to learn. 2008: General Motors, Ford and Chrysler have to close factories and lay out thousands of workers. The reason is still the same as back in 1973, 1985 and 1992 – their cars are crap. They are too big, they eat too much gas. You’d think having been through so many petrol price hikes last 35 years would have taught you something. Well it has not and there is a good reason for it.
Japanese companies have been betting on fuel-efficient cars ever since they put out their Toyopets and Datsuns on the international market. The reasoning was logical and straightforward: in the long run, everybody wants a smaller gas bill – never mind short-lived fads when SUVs and muscle cars suddenly become hip best-sellers. The keyword here is “the long run”. American CEO’s can ill afford laying out long-term strategies that don’t bring immediate short-terms – or they get a quick sack from their shareholders at the next annual meeting.
Japanese car-makers are accountable only to their investors: mother companies who are most of time huge semi-governmental banking corporations all too familiar with the concepts of long-term gains. They are, to put it modestly, rich enough to brush off temporary losses when a promise of long-terms gains is in sight. Their portfolios are so diversified that one way or another they make profits anyway.
American share-holders are hedge funds and holdings. Their objective is to squeeze more money out whatever they invest in - the quicker the better. They need immediate profit every year to support their lavish lifestyles. They are more concerned if their wives’ custom convertibles and their children’s private prep school fees are paid for rather with what will become of the automotive industry in a 10-years’ time because by then they may have sold their Chrysler or Ford shares and invested in something else – as long as it keep paying their bills. Thus, year in year out, American automotive CEO’s have to please their investors instead of developing sustainable development strategies for their companies. And, year in year out, Pontiac, Mercury and Dodge are losing ground in their home market. Thousands upon thousands conveyor belt operators keep getting sacked to make sure that rich men’s investment portfolios stay profitable. And one after another, packs of failed top managers leave with super fat severance packages to keep running havoc in the automotive industry.
Greenland, a Danish protectorate since 1721, has nurtured dreams of independence that so far failed to materialize - mostly because 40% of its GDP come from Denmark’s economic assistance. In other words, between material comfort and the privilege of having your own bureaucracy Greenlanders have always plumped for the former.
If boring, drilling and digging go unhitched, Greenland will effectively trigger a self-perpetuating bonanza: fossil fuel extracted off its shores will speed up the global thaw, easing access to more and more natural resources. Who knows, there may even come the day when Greenland’s present colonial masters will learn to bend over backwards to bask in the kind of special relationship Britain nowadays likes to think it has with the USA.
In that light, the episode in a new BBC drama Burn Up where an Inuit activist lady performs self-immolation in protest against Greenland ice melting seems a bit far-fetched. Or she must have been anti-independence.
There is method in beauty. It can be mathematically verified. There is only one Golden Section, a.k.a. the Divine Proportion. The closer to it you get, the more beautiful comes out your artefact. The problem is that the area right around has been overexplored in the course of the humankind's history. The possibilities are by large exhausted, it is next to impossible to come up with something new.
That is unless you step away from the Golden Section to fill in the missing parts of the art paradigm that were left void for one good reason: they are ugly, unappealing to the human eye and aesthetic sense. But what of it as long as you can claim to be original! Australian art historian Arthur Danto coined a new word for this kind of conscious shunning the universally accepted beauty standard: kallophobia – the fear of beautiful.
Modern artists calculatedly venture away the Divine Proportion because it's easier to get noticed. At some point of time there was a point to it: a pure scientific desire to make up the whole paradigm of possible art forms, shapes and sounds. Once it was the manifesto of rebels breaking away from the ossified academic art: there was honesty and a message in impressionism, cubism and futurism. Fast forward to post-modernity: desperate ego-bloating, marketing trickery, shameless bluffery.
The situation is not aided by the explosive expansion of art market where aesthetically challenged but loaded buyers see nothing but a great investment opportunity in often mediocre and quite often ugly pieces of art. Bankers and brokers, whose ballyhooed MBA courses sure never included art history modules, buy out whole exhibitions of drab, spam and scum even before they open. Hedge fund dealers adorn their fancy living rooms with God-awful doodles in the hope of windfalls at the next Sotheby’s auction. Wherever you go, city officials out of fear to come across square waste taxpayers’ money to commission abhorrent monstrosities for public spaces. Year after year aspiring artists are trained in art academies to objectify the worst demons and dirtiest garbage from their subconscious into “art” and spurt it out on unsuspecting audiences.
This phenomenon is so widespread that it deserves a fancy name, a word that best describes its true essence: kakophilia, the Greek for "love for shit". This inflatable faeces "masterpiece" epitomizes the trend. There is no end in siight: for every Damien Hirst there seems to be a Russian billionaire.
It was Russian Silver Age philosopher Berdyaev who said that Russian women love Russian men out of pity. National archetypes are best represented in folklore. The Russian fairy tale Vasilissa the Wise is one where the stereotype of Russian male-female relationship is expressed in an allegorical form.
There Vasilissa is a frog who turns into a beautiful and wise woman at night, unbeknownst to everyone but her husband Ivanushka. Under the frog's skin lives a beautiful princess capable of most amazing wizardry.
Her husband keeps getting various impossible tasks from the Tsar. Every time Ivanushka come back home lost at how to cater to yet another royal whim, his frog-wife reassures him she will take care of it. Whilst he is asleep, she turns into a witch lady and gets down to business of accomplishing all kinds of impossible feats such as baking a pie enough to feed a thousand or weave a silk carpet overnight. In the morning she turns back into a frog and creeps back into the padded box where she is kept while Ivanushka takes off to the court for another string of praise and accolades from the Tsar. When royal favour runs out, Ivanushka gets another task and the circle repeats.
Many Russian women bear their husband like a cross, as if a repentance for the sins of their past lives. Burdened with the double task of earning a living and running a household they are also expected to look sexy and sophisticated at all times.
The situation is not helped by the centuries-old reality of constant warfare and social cataclysms that has resulted in a female-to-male ratio of 13 to 10. With the average lifespan of 54 years for men and 72 years for women, perspectives of a happy family life for Russian women are, mildly put, bleak. Russian men are spoilt for choice and have no incentive to perform. Gender emancipation of the Soviet times also ensured a nearly equal female participation in the work force as well as easier sexual accessibility than in other traditional societies. The perceived social value of women is thus rather low.
Not surprisingly, Russia’s biggest export commodity after oil and arms are women. Educated, good-looking and demure, ready for hard work and sacrifices, modern-time Vasilissas depart in droves in quest for a husband.
Televised Bible-thumping does not make you a mouthpiece of God. I know that so many will furiously disagree, holding dear in their hearts the image of Paul Barnes, Earl Paulk or Lonnie Latham frothing at the mouth while projection-tripping on reproving, rebuking and exhorting sin in others and giving their holier-than-thou audiences quiet but powerful self-righteous orgasms.
My only, in fact, favourite televangelist (can't believe I am actually saying that!) Joel Osteen is often accused of not focussing enough on sin. In fact, you will never hear a single condemnation of anything in his sermons. It is as if his world entirely consists of Love and everything that is not is banished from it. His message basically is that you can do the same and have a life to the full (John 10:10) as God promised.
Iremember some time ago an Algerian female writer (unfortunately, cannot remember her name) was subjected to a widely publicised questioning with a view to make her slip into saying something not quite Islamic. In Algeria that kind of mistake is as close as can be to signing your own death sentence. So, they asked her what she thought about Satan. She answered that her heart is so full of God that there is no place for Satan.
Ithink that could pretty much summarize Joel Austeen's creed. God is Love, and if you cultivate Love inside you, your life will be full of His blessings. On the other hand, if you spend too much time on contemplating and condemning Evil, you will end up painted its colours. A long string of televangelist scandals is a living proof of that. In Nietzsche's words: "He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."
His reluctance to admit that Jesus Christ is THE only way to salvation is very often used against him. This may sound a very valid argument to a Fox-News-watching Southern Baptist who has never travelled farther than Florida. Parochial red-neck ignorance is instrumental in staying convinced that everyone outside your faith is fated for damnation. However, a little exposure - Austeen lived with his missionary father in India - can give you glimpse of the fact that there are actually billions people out there who do not even suspect your little church exists. Saying that they all are wrong says more about you than about them.
In my eyes, Joel Osteen (popularly misspelt as Austeen) is a mouthpiece of God, not of the American Southern Baptist God or the Dutch Reformed God or the Greek Orthodox God, but of God who reveals Himself to all people in various ways. Joel Osteen preaches the spirit, not the letter of Christianity - just what Christ pointed out to the Pharisees. Christian faith, when not hijacked by self-serving Bible-thumpers, is a great path of spiritual quest for God. Joel Osteen is, perhaps, its best ambassador to the world where so many people of so many creeds and nations have spent millennia in their own spiritual quests.
If you feel better thinking you are the chosen one in the self-righteous coop of your little provincial parish, then just stay there. Kingdom of Heaven could be in your heart right now, but sanctimonious trips from the likes of hatred-spouting Jimmy Swaggart, Pat Robertson or Douglas Goodman are probably an easier fix. But please, keep your spiteful convictions to yourself: scavenging the Bible for quotes to confirm your lowliest drives and emotions is like masturbation - better kept out of public eye!
As I observe the lives of my female friends, at times becoming privy to more secrets than I bargain for, it strikes me how some (or probably quite a few) women follow Thumbelina’s footsteps in their quest for partner.
After the wind blows Thumbelina off the windowsill where she is comfortably dwelling inside a flower, she first ends up with the Toad – the wrong guy for her from all perspectives. He is an egoistic manipulator forcing his choices on her with the sole objective to brag about his pretty wife to other toads. He effectively keeps her in captivity because she cannot swim away from the water lily leaf where he put her up. Real life women too often wind up first with totally wrong dudes.
The jolly Beetle helps Thumbelina forget the grievances of living on a damp pond with sleazy amphibians. He's the ultimate party buddy. With him, life is a beach and sex is great too but after a while incessant frolicking may wear out most women. When Thumbelina shows first signs of party fatigue, Beetle’s jaunty buddies expel her, also because they come to realize that she is in fact not their kind, a random stranger in their world of drugs, sex and rock’n’roll.
Harsh realities of life come in the form of winter. Homeless and penniless, Thumbelina trundles wearily through frost and wind until breathless she falls into Field Mouse’s warm and cosy burrow. Field Mouse is a common sense advisor. She goes for safe pragmatic choices for herself and people around her. If your perspective never goes beyond a comfortable ordinary life, then you probably be better off following her sensible judgement. She means well, it is just that her perspective does not stretch beyond the tops of wheat stalk on her field. Field Mouse decides to fix Thumbelina up with Mole.
Mole is rich if stingy; he has a shiny fur coat and is widely respected for his business acumen and vast assets. He figures that Thumbelina is a good investment as she can’t possibly eat much but will be a perfect accessory to his affluence. Thumbelina is not happy with him but he provides security and shelter to weather out the winter. Her spiritual needs are satisfied through taking care of a sick Swallow who she shares her meagre half-a-grain-a-day ration with. Giving nurtures hearts and help them stay pure and warm through life’s hardships.
When the spring comes, Thumbelina’s rough patch is over. She is free to go but does not know where to until she asks Swallow. Thumbelina’s goodness of heart is rewarded with a true advisor who knows what her heart needs. Swallow flies high and sees things from a broader perspective. She knows there is more to the world than cosy lives in warm holes. Thumbelina summons enough courage to leave the security of her life with Mole and fly away on Swallow’s back. Making up your own mind and taking decisions is very important to your true progress. No amount of advisors’ wisdom can bring change into your life, it is your courage and action that does that. Plunging into uncertainty can be scary but it offers an infinity of possibilities while staying in your comfort zone provides only safety that one day will kill you.
Thumbelina’s dive into the cold high sky on Swallow’s back takes her to the end of her journey. Finally she is rewarded for all her trials and tribulations. She’s had enough guts not to get stuck with the Mr. All-Wrong for good, nor to party her life away with Mr. Jolly Frolic. She was wise enough to put the Survival Advisor’s directions behind her when it was not about survival any more. She withstood the temptation to sell herself out for a carefree existence as a lady of leisure with Mr. Tight-Wad. Her ultimate reward is a man after her own heart, the Prince of Elves, the one that was meant for her, someone who shares her values and will always understand her because he is her own kind. It is a real happily-ever-after end because here we have a match of true kindred souls.
How many real life women never make it this far. How many drag miserable existence thinking there are no other guys around but their abusive Mr. All-Wrong. How many fritter or even ruin their lives in hedonistic excesses with Jolly Bugs. And how even more settle down for a life in a golden cage with loaded Moles because they fulfil their material desires or because Survival Advisors tell them that it’s the most sensible thing to do. But those who take time and effort to cultivate their hearts and keep them open to the wisdom of True Advisors and – most importantly – those who manage to put safety past them and plunge into uncertainty listening only to what their intuition – the Ultimate True Advisor – tells them, find their Soul Mate.
Spy's job in London could never be easier. Apart from frequenting sushi joints you would only need to pick up laptops with sensitive data right from the café tables and park benches.
UK Ministry of Defence admits that it has had 747 laptops and 121 USB sticks gone missing since 2004. There is a possibility that MoD employees only meant well and were sowing computers around in the hope that they will sprout an give a harvest of even more computers but such benign intentions still do not make them appear any smarter.
I figure that if you want easy money these days, just go on the KGB's payroll and have yourself sent to London. Life on the Thames' shores will be a beach!
Well, in fact, he suggested something even more painful for Dubya: weaning America off oil in a decade. That is quite a slab of wishful thinking but if it ever comes to fruition it will effectively remove the revenue base from the whole clique of US and international oil magnates whose interests Bush's administration represents at the expense of the American people.
Al thus is aiming at the very nervous centre of George W.'s testicles. If you ever succeed, Al, the revenge will surely be sweet!
That money would be used to boost the supply of fertiliser and seeds for African farmers, helping increase production over the next two years, said commission spokesman Johannes Laitenberger. Now would you have any doubts where that supply will be procured?
When you are rich, whatever you do you only become richer. In a well researched and written-about historical instance, the super-profits the Arab states made thanks to the 1972-3 all eventually ended up in Western banks where Arab oil barons traditionally keep their money.
Back to the African aid pledge: there is another sideline boon to the whole scheme. Now that European post-imperialism has by large abandoned Africa in favour of its own backyard in Eastern Europe, Africa's sentiment starts leaning towards China whose investment bears no demands for more human rights. Losing a market of scale and a major supplier of raw materials to the irresistible force of ever-growing China may prove to painful to the EU. A double-handed 1-billion deal may not be enough to sway Africa back to its former colonial masters but it is a nice try anyway. And at any rate Europe has nothing to lose. When you are rich, you can't go wrong.
It’s a mysterious law of nature. Wherever there’s a road link from Holland, no matter how far, unlikely, or inconvenient the place may be, like the Flying Dutchman's latter-day incarnation the Driving Dutchman will haunt you there. From an abandoned driveway in Liechtenstein’s alpine heights to the steaming hot tarmac in the midst of an arid Moroccan desert valley you can be sure to see six letters and numbers on the field of yellow and the proud NL on the field of blue whizzing towards the horizon.
Fly over the oceans and mountain ranges, Mr. and Mrs. de Vries will be there in the remotest Andean village or a God-forsaken station in Western China to discuss the recent price drops in Albert Heijn or the cleanliness of local toilets over a cup of coffee. Run to an island on the lake inside a volcano crater on Sumatra, the husky-voiced beer-guzzling Dutchman will be there cracking Fleming jokes exalting the virtues of Hemaworst.
Perhaps, it is in the blood of this sea-faring people that for centuries were sacrificing life, limb and family fortunes to bring back with a profit porcelain, spices and slaves from Japan, Sri Lanka and Brazil. These days it may also be the urge to escape from a rain-soaked flat country with world’s second highest population density, away from the rigours of living in a micro-managed ginger-house paradise.
Unlike the Flying Dutchman doomed to keep sailing around until the Judgement Day, the Driving Dutchman always makes it home in the end. Perhaps Baudrillard was not so far away from truth saying that “the bourgeois travel to get bored so that coming home wouldn’t seem so boring”.
There definitely is a lesson for Africa: to attract Western aid, one only needs to start drug trafficking on a VERY large scale and make sure that it steadily grows, like Afghanistan did: under the tender NATO rule opium production there tripled between 1996 and 2006. Still the president of the country that makes 4 billion a year only in raw opiates manages to squeeze 13 billion Euros in G7 aid pledges after asking for 30. What a panache, something to learn for Ethiopia.
The 21st century duce finally got fed up after 2,500 court hearings, 587 police visits and some 174m euros spent in legal fees since entering the political scene 14 years ago. As his role model Julius Caesar always insisted attacking is the best form of defence, Berlusconi took an admirable pro-active stance: got himself re-elected and had a law tailor-made to protect himself. Next thing you know he will decree every Italian's sacred duty to lick his butt clean every time he poops and Italy will have nothing but cave in.
There were times when enormous queues were lining up for thorough frisking and embarrassing questioning only for El-Al flights. Only Israel-bound flights had plain-cloth marshals eavesdropping on passengers’ conversations, shoe-searching and meticulous customer background checks days before the actual check-in.
The chain reaction that has put everybody’s reality on fire is like this. Great Britain sponsored a forceful removal of Palestinian Arabs in favour of the fledgling Jewish state. Courtesy of a powerful Zionist lobby the US of A took over in unconditional military and financial support of Israel. UK and USA in the eyes of the Moslem world equal the West. Effectively anyone with Europeoid features can thus be viewed now as an instigator of Palestinian suffering. The controlled explosion of the Twin Towers planted in our brains the image of Arab facial features as synonymous with terrorism.
