Right, Men, Into Your Tanks!

“Politically, there would be nothing better for President Bush
than to remove Saddam and disarm Iraq without firing a shot,”
a Western diplomat is quoted as saying.
[BBC News]Maybe.

Ok, let me be honest – politics really isn’t my thing, but I can’t help wonder about the mentality of sending hundreds of thousands of soldiers on a camping trip near the Iraqi border, if you don’t intend telling them to do what soldiers are trained to do.

The UN weapons inspectors are inspecting for weapons. They have found some cannnisters that might be used in the construction of chemical weapons. Iraq claims that information on these cannisters was provided in the declaration that they had supplied to the UN (that’s right – the one that Saddam had a bunch of people stay up all night to write after an evening out on the town) so now the UN has to go away and read it again because pages 22,346 and 22,347 were stuck together and that’s where the info was. Probably. Other than that they have (at least claimed) to have found nothing out of the ordinary.

Like they would?

Saddam has had more than enough time to hide anything incriminating, and I am pretty sure that the UN wo’n’t find anything outrageously obvious. Saddam is too mad (ermm, clever) to allow anything like that to happen. And I am pretty sure that the UN inspection team wo’n’t look in the most obvious place. I am not going to give the game away, but here’s a hint, Hans: why do you think Saddam walks the way he does, and constantly has a tense grin plastered all over his face? In fact, him and ALL his clones do. (Yep, there was a cult (no, not a typo) who claimed to have successfully cloned the first human recently. Wake up and smell the coffee, you cult people you. Iraq perfected the technique years ago – just check out Iraqi news reels – every man there is a clone of Saddam!)
That is where are the missiles are hidden! Sheesh. And they are still wasting time checking under Saddam’s bed.

So what set of circumstances would lead to a US-led invasion of Iraq?

1) The UN finds what the US is looking for after the Iraqis have a particuarly heavy night eating curry and drinking whatever they are allowed to drink (suspicions grow when, the following morning, all Saddam clones seem to walk ‘normal’ like).

Mr Bush says “I knew it!”
Allies jump in tanks and drive to Iraq.

2) The UN finds nothing of note and comes away ‘satisfied’ that Saddam is an honest man and a pretty good croquet player to boot.

Mr. Bush says “That can’t be right. I am going to go and have a look myself.”
Allies jump in tanks and drive to Iraq.

3) Iraq gets fed up of the UN trampling all over their newly mown lawn (satellite photos indicated that the sign said ‘Keep Off The Grass”, not “Weapons Of Mass Destruction Ahead”) and throws them out before a celebratory night eating curry and drinking whatever they are allowed to drink.

Mr Bush says “Now that really is suspicious!”
Allies jump in tanks and drive to Iraq.

4) Saddam and his nearest and dearest are removed by Iraq’s neighbours and by those in the Iraqi government who want to stay alive, and a more ‘politically correct’ government is set up.

Mr Bush says “Ah, bugger! I wonder what it would have been like to attack..”
Allies jump in tanks and drive to Iraq.

Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get my idea. Mr Bush strikes me as being like a little boy with soldiers. What’s the point in having them if you can’t use them? I can see his pre-invasion speech now. All about how necessary it is to go to war on Iraq, regardless. And his closing words?

“Right men, into your tanks.”

Disclaimer: The above does not necessarily reflect the feelings, thoughts or opinions of the person who wrote it, who had to leave the room when the nurse came in to say that they were handing out the meds. The writer is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information contained therein. It is not to be taken seriously and may not be copied in whole or part and used in any pre-invasion speech.

Something Is Wrong

Another news flash concerned with a police raid leading to the arrests of 40 suspected paedophiles; another UK television personality questioned over alleged links to child pornography on the net; Roman Catholic priests; and there was a musician who…

And the list goes on. What the hell is going on in the minds of those people?

Child pornography, and things related, is wrong. Society says it’s wrong. Morally we know it’s wrong. Deep down I am pretty sure that the people who participate in this type of behaviour know it is wrong as well, but the urge to stay involved clearly distorts every rational and caring thought they might have towards those they abuse.

It’s been going on for a long time. It’s certainly not a new thing, and we can’t blame influences brought about by today’s society. Our attention is being drawn towards it more now thanks to media coverage and better knowledge of exactly what those people are doing.

The internet has helped those people distribute and share what they have, so in that respect it is a child’s worst enemy. On the other hand it has helped to identify and catch a huge number of them – both men and women – and it will go on doing so as long as they keep using the medium.

What can we do about it? Keep fighting it. That’s all we can do. Because until mankind develops morally and spiritually to the point where every capable adult in society lives to protect and positively enhance the lives of our children, then there will always be a small number of ‘low-lives’ who will take advantage of and abuse them to their own, sick, ends.

Slowly we will make the world a better and safer place for them – but it will take as much time as needed to allow people like that to grow to the point where they understand the implications of what they are doing, and change their behaviour. It won’t happen in our lifetime, but one day it will. Until then we keep fighting it, like Visa, the credit card company, who are working hard to limit the number of porn-related online transactions taking place (keep up the good work).

Don’t fear paedophiles. They aren’t worth the energy you’d expend.

Protect your children but let them have lives as well – don’t allow that tiny minority to ruin their lives in any way, directly or indirectly.

Those people still reckon on maintaining a place for themselves in society, regardless of their ‘back-room’ behaviour. Let’s give them the attention they deserve – no attention at all, save that of identifying them for what they really are. Make them outcasts, and let them see what it is like to live in a world where they are the ones who are treated the same way that they treat our children.

With no respect at all.


[Time-warp edit: Original image no longer available]

I made a quick sketch of this distant relative to the elephant as it ambled out from under the palm trees.
Its solitary nature and fear of anything that moves faster than it means it is very rarely seen.

I only saw it for about 5 minutes, but I think that the sketch is fairly accurate.

So Sad

I have woken up SOOO saddened by the events of last night.
Okay, the non-events.
Last night, two female friends promised to fly from some random point in the US, let themselves in and do unspeakably rude things to me as I lay there in bed. It never happened. Nothing. Not even so much as a dirty footprint on the patio, never mind dirty night of anything else.
It’s not like I didn’t give them detailed instructions. The key would be left under the you-know-what. They can get past the savage man-eating guard hampster by tiptoeing quietly if he’s asleep, or by making female hampster noises to him if he’s awake (he’s short sighted, and it would confuse him enuff for them to sneak past). Once inside, the two ninja mice can be bribed with cheese and tomato pizza. No toppings as I wouldn’t want to spoil them. The last line of defence is my Kamikaze Kitten, which can be put to sleep by singing to it, or if you can get the words right, use the password: Baa Ram Ewe (or something like that, I can never remember myself). I even told them which bedroom I am in and how to find it.
Maybe it sounds a bit extreme to have all these security measures?
Listen, I am a guy living on my own. I can’t have people like Angelina Jolie-dressed-as-Lara Croft trying to get in night after night, trying to steal my mojo, can I?

Yeah Baby!

It’s About Being Afraid

I wanted to write something, but spent a relatively uneventful day about the house doing nothing in particular and certainly nothing inspiring. Then watching the X-Files made me wonder about fear.
Sitting here, alone in the house, I started to wonder what fear was all about. I have to say that as fear goes, I am not one that is frightened by much. Oxford defined it as ‘a painful emotion caused by impending danger or evil’, but there seems to be more to it than that, based on how I (and I am sure others) feel about different things.
I am trying to think of something that frightens me – something that instills a sense of fear. Being alone? I live alone, and it isn’t a problem. Alone in the dark? I usually wander about in the dark and don’t bother with lights, so that in itself isn’t a problem either. What might be is what the dark might contain: the unknown.

You are sitting alone in the house, in front of your computer. There is a lamp on the table and the bulb, without warning, blows. The monitor and street lights provide a little relief. You know the layout of the room, so you move quickly to the main light switch without incident, and try it. Nothing happens. The computer monitor now turns off, leaving you with nothing but the glow from outside street lights which, one by one, also extinguish. Now it’s dark – very dark. You are standing waiting for something to happen: the power come back on, perhaps? You sigh at the thought of the torch in the drawer that you kept promising yourself to buy batteries for.
You stand there and listen the wind outside and another, unusual, sound coming from another room. You know there is no-one else in the house, and the sound is like nothing else you have heard before. You turn slowly, trying not to make a noise yourself, and inch your way towards the source of the sound. Your hands feel clammy, and your heartbeat seems stronger. Your mind races, trying to imagine what could be making the noise that you can still hear.

The mind will try and fill in the blank. It will sort through everything you know that might make a noise such as the one your hear and eliminate the possibilities one by one. But there are things that will influence your thoughts. You are alone; it is dark; you are haven’t heard a noise like this before. These conditions allow your mind to run riot, and the most improbable ideas come flooding in. Now it’s not just a moth, that might somehow have got in through a window left ajar. Now there is someone, or something, there that really, really shouldn’t, or couldn’t, be there.
What does it for you? At what point does fear, irrational or otherwise, take over? When the lamp blew unexpectedly? When you found yourself in the semi-darkness, or maybe when the main light refused to come on? Or maybe you aren’t so much worried about the dark, but the thoughts that come to you when you go looking for the source of the noise. It might be that moth. It might be some unearthly entity that has chosen to cling to you, and now is trying to make itself known. And alien visitors don’t need door-keys, do they?
As irrational and improbable as it might be it is actually the last one that does it for me and, as far as I know, it’s the only one.
I do believe that we are not the only planet in the universe supporting life. And without going into government cover-up (today) I do believe that we are being visited, and there is nothing we can do about it. I know people are going to sigh and wonder what planet I myself might be living on, but now is not the time to defend myself on issues such as this.

The darkness and what it might contain is, of course, just one way that fear might be induced in a person, and there are many others – some rational, others not so. Sometimes you can trace a fear to its root-cause (aracnophobia, for example). Other times it’s a fear that exists deep in the subconcious, and might be one that is not easy to pinpoint. And what about fear of fear itself?

What causes your skin to go cold, and the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up straight in fear and fascination of what you are anticipating? Maybe it’s that something that is making its way slowly, silenty, to your feet as they rest on the floor as you read this. Something that shouldn’t, or couldn’t, be there.

You’d better look, just in case…

What Is A Friend?

How do you define ‘friend’?

Someone you have known for a long time?
Someone you can pour your heart out to any time of the night and day?
Someone who shares common interests?
Someone you just met or haven’t actually met face to face?
All of the above?

Does it matter?

A friend is someone you feel you can call a friend for whatever reason.
A friend is someone you feel you can love, or someone you do love.
Not love in the romantic, heartfelt way that is normally associated with a partner, but love that you feel you can extend to anyone.
But just how often do you tell your friends that you love them? How often do you just say ‘I love you’, to your friends?
I don’t very often, but I’m gonna give it a damn good try from now on. Okay, granted, this might not be quite so easy to say to my male friends, but to the female ones, it’s gonna happen. And no, not in the slushy way, but if any of you are reading this, and you should know who you are, then prepare yourselves. If the male ones out there are reading this, consider it done (baby steps guys, ok?). Love makes the world go round. Love should be able to make it stop turning, just for a brief moment, so we can look at each other and be aware of the wonderful thing we share – a love for who we are. So why the hell don’t we extend that to those around us as well? The world wo’n’t stop turning, and we wo’n’t tell everyone around us that we love them, but we can tell our friends.

I can’t credit anyone with this, cos I don’t know who said it, but:

There are no strangers, just friends you haven’t met yet.

So find a quiet moment, sit your friend down and tell them. Tell them how much you appreciate them. Tell them how much they mean to you just being there, just being themselves. Tell them you love them. It’s hard. It wo’n’t seem natural. What the hell, just do it.

I’m going to.

Why Start A Blog?

After the first post it’s time to come back to present day.

So what am I doing here?
Why start a blog and pour my feelings out to people I don’t know?
No, I don’t think I am. I think I am doing it for me. If someone reads it, then they read it.

This past month has been so hard, and now I am on my own.
No, just alone.
No, just not doing anything at the moment.
I can’t say no to that one. Let’s just say I am waiting for a smile to come my way. It will – I just have to wait a while.
There are many things that happen in life: some are good, others are not so good. The good ones we like to share and the not so good ones we tend, for the most part, not to share. Maybe because the pain that usually goes hand-in-hand with the bad things is personal, and we can’t open ourselves up and put it on display. We can’t allow others to laugh at us for our caring, when they themselves don’t.
Hence this blog. Maybe writing it will help. No. Writing it will help. So I’ll just write.

A Gentle Breeze

OK, the first posting and I am going to backdate this part of it to 19th December.

A Gentle Breeze

Only the one among them felt the gentle breeze as it passed by
And only the one heard the soft voices that that breeze carried with it
And only the one lay down, closed his eyes, and slept

But there were many whose laughter and cheer could be heard
And there were many whose love and warmth could be felt
And there were many who stood to welcome him home when finally he awoke

And those that remain will mourn with a quiet sadness
But when the tears are gone, and when the sadness has passed
There will be the memories of his warmth and of his smile
And the feeling of a gentle breeze that carries with it the laughter of the one who loves them still.

Dad, we love you.