De La Rey

The Afrikaner Flame Flares Up
How a simple song has divided and conquered South Africa

‘A handful of us against an army of them’

It is the biggest selling South African album ever, and it is still causing a national sensation. The first time I heard Bok van Blerk’s song was in a church. My Afrikaans girlfriend had been nagging me for weeks to go to church. I don’t remember too much of the sermon, but I do remember Van Blerk’s song, De La Rey. It is about a legendary Boer General who fought overwhelming numbers of better equipped British troops during the Anglo Boer War more than a century ago. The words of the song by Bok van Blerk become supremely relevant for two reasons:

1) The Afrikaner (and I think white people here in general) have suffered incredible odds for as long as they have been in Africa, and there is a tremendous heroism in having survived what we have that the song identifies and recognizes
2) This line: ‘De La Rey De La Rey, sal jy die Boere kom lei? De La Rey De La Rey’ translates powerfully and meaningfully in the modern era in South Africa, even the world. It means: General de La Rey, will you come and lead us?

Even as I write this a swarm of energy burns along my spine, and I know everyone in that all white congregation that day felt the same way. Well, they should, since it’s a song about the Boer, the Afrikaner. Why then does it fan the flame inside me? After all, I am not even an Afrikaner.

His Story

By all accounts I should be. Most people in Bloemfontein, where I live, are Afrikaners, and the vast majority of white people with Dutch surnames (or at least, non-British) in South Africa are Afrikaans speaking. I’m an unusual South African in that I have a Dutch heritage, on my father’s side, and a British and Afrikaans heritage on my mother’s. Most of my forbears were here before the War, and we certainly came far too late to have any claim to that other Afrikaans tradition, the Great Trek.
Although my father spoke Dutch as an infant, he made the unusual transition from Dutch to English, simply because he was sent to a local English school in the predominantly Afrikaans city of Bloemfontein. My grandmother (on my mother’s side) married an Englishman, and thus my mother tongue remains English to this day.

History

I went to a school in the bad old Apartheid days. It was an all white school, but nevertheless segregated along language/cultural lines: one third of all students were English, and two third Afrikaans. We had our own classes, and for the most part the big Afrikaners played tough games like rugby while the English kids (who were usually smaller and more timid) played hockey and soccer. So, despite me being a van der Leek, I had my lessons in English. During history classes at one time, we learnt of the Boer War, and my classmates and I considered ourselves Boers, because a hundred years ago the British were certainly not our friends, and the country didn’t belong to them. South Africa was merely the outskirts of the British Empire, like plenty of other colonies at the time. I sympathized with the terrible suffering the Boer woman went through in British concentration camps, and I hated the British for their scorched Earth policy. Of course, the Boer’s did not only have to deal with attacks from the British, but also from staggering hordes of Xhosa and Zulu impi’s, armed with spears and shields. But van Blerk’s song is about the Boer General fighting the British. In a time when your weapon was a musket that took more than a minute to load, and often did not work, the odds were very much against the Boers.
And yet, as farmers and frontiersmen they became intimate with their land, becoming keen and strong and for a time very successful guerillas in the field of battle.

Dutchmen vs Rooinek

If I considered myself a Boer (in the context of the War) the Afrikaners I went to school with didn’t think of me in the same way. They would call my friends rooinek (red neck), when they heard us speaking English, and when they heard my surname, they would ask me why I didn’t speak Afrikaans. Meanwhile, the English kids called the Afrikaners Dutchmen, which left me uncomfortably out of place, but in a sense, gave me a perpetually unbiased white man’s vista. Sometimes kids would come up to me and ask: “Which sport is the toughest: rugby or soccer?” There was always a lot more imbedded in that question than the question itself.

Resistance

It took me a number of years to become fluent at Afrikaans, and of course it helped having an Afrikaans girlfriend. So why does this Afrikaans song, for Afrikaans people, strike a chord in the hearts of so many here? Why has the impact been assessed as far afield as the New York Times? Well, because this song is not ironic, or funny or even clever. For starters, it is a damn good song. It also has a simple militancy about it, which infects those who hear it. For the first time in many years, the Afrikaner and other white people are recognizing themselves as a group once again. And the song is about standing up. It’s about resistance. It’s about a heritage of both those things, and until now, we’d all but forgotten about it.

‘With the cliffs of the mountains against our backs
They think they can run us down’

While the country has been given over to Affirmative Action, the spoils carved up and sold out to Black Empowerment and all the rest that this entails, the original custodians of the country, the once powerful but now meek – those who have not yet been murdered – have been quietly smouldering on the back burner. You might not think that white South Africans have a place in a country called South Africa, until you see how these people respond to this song. If you weren’t sure how white South Africans felt about their place in their country, watch them get fired up by this song. And indeed, one of the lines in the song (translated) goes:
‘But the flame and the fire that once burned
now burns deep, deep inside me’.

I was at a braai recently when the song was played again and again and again. My girlfriend’s brother, a big Afrikaans guy, and an excellent rugby player in his day, called me over and put his arm around my shoulder. A few of us, drunk on beer, with the coals throwing off swirling smoke around our faces, sang, shouted the words of the song.
I don’t think it’s appropriate to go to the songwriters or even Bok van Blerk (real name Louis Pepler, a 28 year old from Pretoria) to ask them why they wrote the song, or what they were trying to say. Because it is a very simple song, telling a very simple story. I do think it is appropriate that people notice what the song does to them personally. We can try to explain that.

‘Because my wife and my child are forced into prison to die’

Leadership Vacuum

My personal experience is that the song strikes plenty of chords. It is about the suffering and the struggle of white people merely to get on with their lives in Africa. It is about the very real need we have for a leader, for ourselves as a group, but even for our country. The white nation went into mourning when our cricket captain, Hansie Cronje died in an aeroplane crash. We have no powerful political or religious leaders that are worth listening to. We feel that loss. Crime whips and wounds and devastates the collective white community on a daily basis. And how do the people here respond to all this? Hundreds of thousands, millions, have already left their country because of the interminable, unbearable pressure. And I too, am thinking of moving to Perth, Australia, in the next two years. I have already spent 2 years in Britain and 4 years in South Korea. The constant crime means we don’t feel safe in our homes, and each day, the newspapers have more news that pushes us down.

‘As the enemy overruns us again, we are forced to take a stand’

But while I am here, in my country, the country that I and my family was born and raised, I welcome people like myself taking a stand against the forces that seem to be forever pushing us. For me it is not about yearning for Apartheid, it is not about racism, but pushing back against the constant slights and terrible blows that keep reigning down on us. I don’t mind standing by the Afrikaner. When I was in Scotland, I felt a similar desire to be Scottish, and to subscribe to many things Scottish. You don’t have to be of a particular nationality to be inspired, but I suppose it helps. De La Rey is about the sharing of real suffering, and the conviction, the rallying call to stand up against it. How the Afrikaners will stand, is another question altogether. I personally hope that there will be some kind of asserting of personal standards, or even a revolution, if only a cultural one.
In a country where the vice president sings songs about ‘Bring me my machine gun’ outside a court (on first rape, them corruption charges), where ‘farm murder’ literally means farmer’s (the same Boers a hundred years later, still fighting for their lives) are targeted and butchered, it does seem necessary that someone takes a stand. Perhaps it is enough that all the song ever achieves is that white South Africans literally stand up, together, and make their presence felt and heard in this country. De La Rey is a cry that belongs to all people at one time or another, but right now, it’s the Afrikaner that deserves recognition and respect. At the very least, we owe them our admiration, not for their sins, but for their fire.

Image courtesy topleftpixel.com

Couch Potato

Image courtesy topleftpixel.com

Cycle to the Potato Festival at Petrusberg:

Time: 1:50:46 (1:27 per kilometre)

Distance: 75.8km

HR: 160 bpm (ave) 175 (max)

Average Speed: 41.1km/h

Energy: 2044

Cycled back after a swim and some time to relax on the lawn:

Time: 2:06 (1:41 per kilometre)

Distance: 74.5km

HR: 150bpm (ave) 169 (max)

Average Speed: 35.5km/h

Energy: 2082 (was much hotter on the way back)

Total time: 3:57

Distance: 150.3km

Average speed: 37.5km/h

Energy: 4126

Didn't really ride very well going out...or didn't really manage to catch the slip on a few occasions. Fell out of two bunches, road was bumpy and the strong right to left gusts meant it was hard to shelter behind the guys if there were more than 6 riding abreast. But I broke a third bunch apart into a nice mechanical wing, and we worked nicely together. Wilba coming through didn't help as I kept pursuing him and he kept riding gutter, which meant I got weakened and thrown off a few times.

Andre rode well, and finished ahead of me, which he seemed really proud about. Funny guy. Will have to kick his butt next time.

Felt strong on the 2nd 80km, so much so that I pulled away on the last 3 km, and then rode a bit harder since I'd run out of water. We were a nice group: Jacques Greef (who won the event), Coen, Philip (who I gave R20 to for food), and Hannes, who rode with me on the last stretch on the first 80km.

We were all pretty wasted when we'd finished, partly because of the extreme heat.

Out and Back

Watched Rocky Balboa last night. A story about the common man, for the common man, but I suppose if you;re not a common sort of person it has a humanity we all ought to have in common. The fire in the belly - that sort of thing. Quite enjoyed it.

Feeling quite gloomy today. Sort've tired.

Tomorrow is a cycle race to the Aartapelfees (Potato Festival) at Petrusburg). 80km out, then the ride back - total of 160km. Ought to be tough.

But as Rocky says, nothing hits you harder than life. You just need to keep moving forward.

The Naked Truth

When flicks clothe and embellish the orginal, it spoils the underlying ethos

If Robert McKee had presented the Oscar for best director, upon finding out that Martin Scorcese had won it, he probably would have punched him over the head with the golden statuette and then, Scorcese's bleeding corpse at his feet, launch into a vitriol about the poor man, using words like "sloppy" and "self-indulgent." He'd focus either on how good writing is ruined in the movies, or why bad writing manages to make a movie in the first place.But let's face it, would the world know much about Idi Amin (or even be thinking about him), if it wasn't for flicks like "Last King of Scotland"? Even fairly mediocre films like "Troy" make us want to dig up history/story books and revisit what really happened. But MacKee's argument is this: "The one responsibility of the writer is to tell the truth. In a world populated with lies, we don’t need writers adding to them."*

I'd soften that a little and suggest that there are plenty of delusions and deceptions circulating, perhaps many of them unintentional, some of them possibly benign. This is the result of writers and other commentators finding their truth off second hand arguments, without going to the trouble to find a firsthand experience of the "truth," or exploring the issue firsthand in the real world.The bottom line for this approach is succinctly summarized in a recent article (The plot should thicken*) on McKee, by the writer who posits: "good storytelling is worth agonising over...it can make a difference [because]... it resonates in the hearts and souls of human beings in a way that profoundly affects them."Have you ever walked out of a movie, almost in tears, having come face to face with an incontrovertible reality (truth) that is either, beautiful, or tragic, or awesome, or a mystical combination of these?For writers who feel their work is subpar, here's a tip. Order McKee's book "Story: Substance, Structure, Style and The Principles of Screenwriting," off Amazon.com.

McKee is one of the most respected commentators (for film) in the business.Have you never watched a movie though, and subsequently find out that half of it turns out to be bogus depictions of what really happened. Or worse, you read a really great story, and then go to watch the movie and you find the movie has been turned into a cheeseburger (with emphasis on extra cheese).Some directors (epecially when they are the writers too), do a credible job. Think of the movie version of "The Hours." Very artistic, very close to the book, but also entirely appropriate to the silver screen. But then what about "The Prince of Tides"?

Book and film are very different. What about the Harry Potter films? Now there's a tough one. Where the films went strictly according to the books they were based on, they were sometimes overly long, and arduous, sometimes even dull. "A Beautiful Mind" is a beautiful movie. It's intelligent, the actors and acting is top notch, and it's a heartwarming story that both inspires and enlightens. It's based on a true story, written by Akiva Goldsmith. I went out and bought the book, and was astonished to find that the book was several degrees better than the film. I'd give the film a very high rating, 9 out of 10, and the book is even better; a phenomenally good read. Part of the reason is because it is the true story of the exceptionally talented genius, John Nash, and also because it is such an incredible story. Goldsmith renders a complex story -- something like a deep and intricate algorithm -- with wit, intelligence and a skillfulness that is breathtaking. In the book are also photographs of the real John Nash, and after a while I found myself resenting Ron Howard's interpretation. Not because his movie is bad, but because it appears to be so false. For example, Nash never saw three apparitions following him around (as depicted in the film). Howard has simplified reality into a sort of candy box style. Yes, it's easy to understand and simple enough to consume, but it's not really factually correct. The only aspect that is correct is the broad theme of a woman who supports her husband despite his insanity, and his ability, through his own brilliance, to "solve the problem" of his schizoid disconnect with reality.After reading the book I found a Web site, and even e-mailed John Nash, since he was (at the time) still haunting the grounds at Princeton University. I don't recall receiving a reply.

I imagine thousands of people did exactly what I did, and probably overwhelmed his inbox. But I have seen people on film and TV, e-mailed them, and received replies. Now that's reality.The movie mentions nothing of Nash's problems with his own son (who also suffered from a mental disorder), or his homosexuality, or his athletism (he was built like an Olympian). As far as I can recall (from reading the book), his wife left him for a period, and they were then later reunited, which makes that amazing gesture (his wife decides to not commit him to a sanitarium but to care for him herself instead) in the movie seem quaint and fanciful, and pretty damn unlikely. If the sentence above bothers you, because it is a bit vague and unsure of itself, then the movie ought to bother you too.

I'd like to make specific references to the book but I have lent it out so many times that I don't have it with me anymore, and whoever does have it has probably decided not to return it.Another excellent movie based on a real person is "Shine," about the talented Australian pianist David Helfgott. Once again, if you find it hard to forgive me for not being accurate, you ought to be very upset at how Helfgott has been rendered. First of all, Helfgott is bald. He doesn't look at all like the charming and funny actor that represents him. Secondly, his wife, who seems sweet and genuine in the movie, in reality, is despised by Helfgott's family as a gold digger who basically uses him -- he is apparently a zombie unable to make sense of the world -- to perform at concerts and she pockets all the proceeds.

When I was in South Korea he performed there. I wanted to attend a concert, until someone said to me, "He is very overrated. Technically he's actually not very good, he's just a celebrity because of the movie." Apparently he makes plenty of errors in a performance. I'm sorry I missed him play though. I'm no aficionado, but I would have liked to have seen and heard the real person for myself. The other thing was the photo of Helfgott that I saw on the Internet depicted a rather sorry looking fellow. He had none of the triumph or charisma of his movie double. At least the movie "Shine" does capture the essence of being pushed to breaking point, of raw talent becoming ruined and shipwrecked, but finally resurrected once again in time (which also happens in "A Beautiful Mind").

Isak Dineson's book, "Out of Africa," is about the life of the Danish aristocrat Karen Blixen in Kenya (around Ngong). Much of what happens in the movie corresponds to the book, and I think Meryl Streep does an awesome job of representing Karen Blixen. But Robert Redford looks nothing like Denis Finch Hutton. Finch Hutton is very tall and very very bald.

The worst (best?) example of fiction being far worse than the real thing, is Luc Besson's movie, "The Messenger," based on Joan of Arc. He casts ex-model Milla Jovovich in the role of Jeanne. Before this film emerged, in fact, well before, I studied real court documents that included actual words Jeanne was said to have spoken. There's an incredible amount of data and dialogue -- lots of Jeanne's own words about herself, her beliefs, and her motivations -- from her year long trial in 1429-30. (In fact, they are the world's oldest complete trial documents), including doodles that suggest what Jeanne looked like. Interestingly, in all the information that we have on Jeanne (and there is a fantastic amount with far more specifics than we have for Jesus) nowhere is any mention made of Jeanne's appearance. Nothing about her hair or eye color, or her beauty. It is amazing to me that such a powerful woman in history, a girl really, who led armies into battle, and basically brought the country of France into existence through her courage, passion and inspiration, was admired for qualities that had nothing to do with her appearance. What a difference to the world of today!The film, when compared to the literature we have on Jeanne, is awful, especially the numerous appearances of Dustin Hoffman as the "Devil."

There are many others movies, and most are fascinating real life stories. Julia Roberts doesn't really resemble Erin Brokovitch (but, does it matter?) -- she does a damn good job showing off her boobs) and Keira Knightley only has short hair and an English accent in common with recently deceased Domino Harvey.Movies about reality do at least bring the tips of the iceberg of human experience into our quadrants of the universe. It's up to us -- as writers -- to find the truth behind the pictures, and explore and uncover the meaning their lives may hold for us. The good news is, there’s often a lot of meaning to be found, but good writers need to allocate additional space to agony, and the gnashing of teeth to do credit to the stories that are out there.
McKee
View : 3 , 0
Dona, 2007/03/02 07:58
What I recall from McKee's 3-day course in New York many years ago is that the closer to excellence in the original genre, the harder it is to make a good movie from the material. That's why McKee uses Casablanca as a excellent example of scriptwriting. It was written as a movie script. Please note there were never documents of passage required as the script suggests. That was not fact, but a plot device. It's doesn't make the movie less true. Enjoyed your article!

Feedback

Comment: Hang homosexuals where you find them

By Nitwit

Of all the articles on homosexuality, yours has to be the best. You did your homework, provided a solid argument and for once, I don’t mind someone quoting the Bible.

Homosexuals have a right to life just like any other person.

Comment: The worst job in the world By Sue Richardson

Tragically so true and well said, Nick.

Wasn’t education one of those privileges which people fought so hard to attain the rights to acquire? Pity nobody told the spoilt and over-privileged offspring of the "now haves" how vital it is.

The "have nots" are still desperate - yet cannot access the knowledge they yearn for because of disruptive kids with skewed values.

This is the true tragedy of our criminal oriented society - passionate teachers who cannot teach and spoilt brats who think they know it all.


The Hell with the USA (response to Iran is Iraq)
View : 16 , 1
Clayton Hallmark, 2007/02/24 05:09

So they, Iran, have it (oil) and it is up to us, the US, to just take it, steal it.This is the oldest story in the history of war. You are honest in showing that US foreign policy is war for oil, but it is dishonest to steal, even for the blessed, sainted United States.Frankly, I am against stealing and for the punishment of theives, even my own country, the USofA.

This nation needs to learn a lesson in Iraq: It needs to lose the Iraq war. I would do anything in my power to see that happen.Then it needs to learn to live within its means and to depart from the law of the jungle and at least become a civilized member of the family of nations.

I for one have many, many values that I place above my country. When it's wrong, the Hell with it!

Computations

Are we starting to think (and behave) like computers. Is something either a 0 or a 1, a yay or a nay. Does that mean a person is either something or nothing, and there is no longer such a thing as potential, or potential for growth, or dreams, or anything else subliminal or even subtle. Because in the computer world, the closest to a dream is virtual reality, and even that is governed by hard and fast paradigms.

Heat Waive

Waiver: No insurance will be paid for fire damage as a result of heat.

Probably something we'll see more of in the future.

Dang, it is incredibly hot outside.

Delivered 11 Issues of Wheeler's World, a club newsletter I am editing and compiling. It's kind of fun, except for the hassle of people who can't do simple things like open a document.

Everyone seems to be irritable today. My legs are still really sore from the weekend.

Alex and I have been talking about pursuing world champs (in triathlon, 35-39 age group). Seems we just have to come in close to 2:15. Since my best is 2:00...anything is possible. Will probably start working towards that from June-ish (after SA Cycling champs) onwards.

Will probably watch Oscar's tonight at 108. And order pizza. And then pedal like hell tomorrow to shake it off. Going to go for training time of around 8-9 hours this week.

Running With Scissors

Natalie: Are you ready?

Augusten Burroughs: For what?

Natalie: To play "Doctor."

Neil Bookman: I'm a fuck-up and it's your fault!

Dr. Finch: That's right, Neil. Blame your father for your inability to focus. Direct all of that rage at me if it makes you feel better.

Neil Bookman: I can't focus because of the voices! I see you for what you are. Yeah. The camera never lies. No! My parents have given you thousands of dollars and I'm still sick! You have to help me get better! You know what I do! You have to help me get better!

Dr. Finch: You're right, Neil. You're right. I've done nothing, apparently. I've never pulled any strings, gotten you a scholarship to the University of Rochester to pursue your photographic interests. Absolutely nothing.

Neil Bookman: You just wanted to get rid of me. Why won't you let me live in this house and be a part of this family? D

r. Finch: Because I am the patriarch! And when the patriarch says jump, you jump, goddamnit! You don't co-operate, Neil, and for that, you're punished!

Neil Bookman: That's not why you won't let me live in this house. You won't let me because you're afraid of me, aren't you? Of what I could do to you in the middle of the night while you're sleeping. Huh? You're afraid of me. Aren't you, Doctor?

Dr. Finch: Our time is up, Neil. I believe we've made a breakthrough today.

Deirdre Burroughs: I need high cellings
Hope: You know Natalie, youre so oral, you'll never get to anal

Natalie: And youll never get a dick in your dried up cunt, you old maid!

Augusten Burroughs: According to Hope, Froyd died of kitty Lukemia. According to me Froyd died of being trapped in a laundry basket for four days without food or water
Deirdre Burroughs: Augusten. Don't smoke my cigarettes. You have a pack of your own.

Norman Burroughs: I don't understand.

Six-Year-Old Augusten Burroughs: I polish my allowance. I boil it clean, then polish it with silver polish.

Norman Burroughs: But why, Augusten? Why?

Six-Year-Old Augusten Burroughs: Because I like shiny things.

Norman Burroughs: I really don't see myself in you at all.

Six-Year-Old Augusten Burroughs: I'm more like my mom. I want to be special and I want to be famous.

Neil Bookman: I think he's a genius. Like when I was your age, and I'd have a rage seizure, he'd put on music to lower my blood pressure. Nat King Cole. "Stardust." Revolutionary sort of stuff, you know? Worked everytime. If he hadn't adopted me... shit, I don't know what I would've done.
Norman Burroughs: Is he an MD doctor?

Deirdre Burroughs: Yes. And as I've told you a hundred times, he got his MD at Yale.

Norman Burroughs: You heard about this guy from where?

Deirdre Burroughs: Doctor Newpall. Augusten's allergist. If you were more of a man and involved in your son's life, you'd know who that was. I smell manure.

Norman Burroughs: I don't smell anything.

Deirdre Burroughs: I do, I smell manure. It's coming out of your ears.

Norman Burroughs: Fucking bitch.

Norman Burroughs: So... you're saying we should split up?

Dr. Finch: In order to reach that conclusion, Norman, I would need to see both you and Deirdre on a regular and disciplined basis, for five hours a day.

Deirdre Burroughs: I'm available, Doctor Finch.

Norman Burroughs: Five hoursa day?! I can't do that! I have to work!

Deirdre Burroughs: See, Doctor Finch, I told you. I'm married to a narcissist.

Dr. Finch: Norman, if I'm willing to clear my schedule to save your marriage, but you're not... then get out! Leave this office, go home, and start dividing your books and your record albums.

Norman Burroughs: This is bullshit. This is really fucking bullshit. [Doctor Finch begins writing in his notebook.]

Norman Burroughs: What're you writing?

Dr. Finch: "Norman Burroughs is homicidal. He is an unapologetic alcoholic. He is dangerous and a threat to himself, his wife, and his child."

Augusten Burroughs: I'm gay, too.

Neil Bookman: Holy Mary, Mother Of God. So that's what this is about. You're gay?

Augusten Burroughs: Yeah. I thought Natalie had told you.

Neil Bookman: Small world, right? You and me. Crazy. Smoke? Here, let me light you. Want a ride home?

Augusten Burroughs: Please.

Neil Bookman: I won't go fast. Maybe. [Cut to Augusten and Neil in bed.]

Augusten Burroughs: What just happened?

Neil Bookman: You think you're gay, right? That's what gay men do. Just wanted you to know what you're in for. Want a beer? Smoke?

Augusten Burroughs: No.
Neil Bookman: You OK with what happened?

Augusten Burroughs: Yeah. Sure. Well, thanks for everything.

Neil Bookman: Thank you. Thank YOU for everything.

Dr. Finch: Where would we be without our painful childhoods?
Dr. Finch: Well, the only loophole or way I could see me getting you out of school for any considerable length of time would be for you... to commit suicide.

Augusten Burroughs: You want me to kill myself?

Dr. Finch: Well, if you tried to kill yourself, I could explain to the schoolboard that you were psychologically unfit to attend, and that you needed intensive treatment. It would a staged suicide attempt. Of course, your poor mother would have to find you and drive you the hospital, where you would stay for three weeks or a month for observation.

Augusten Burroughs: I don't know. It doesn't... Dr. Finch: Augusten. Where is your spirit of adventure?
Dr. Finch: Well, the only loophole or way I could see me getting you out of school for any considerable length of time would be for you... to commit suicide.

Burroughs: I don't know. It doesn't...

Dr. Finch: Augusten. Where is your spirit of adventure?

Augusten Burroughs: Who's Terrence Maxwell, Natalie?

Natalie: I've never heard of him.

Augusten Burroughs: Tell me who he is. Tell me who he is.

Natalie: Shut up.

Augusten Burroughs: It kills you, doesn't it?

Natalie: Shut up.

Augusten Burroughs: Let it out!

Natalie: Shut up!

Augusten Burroughs: Tell me who he is, Natalie!

Natalie: Shut up!

Augusten Burroughs: Tell me so I don't feel so alone!

Natalie: HE WAS THE ONLY ONE I EVER LOVED AND HE DOESN'T WANT ME ANYMORE! DO YOU FEEL BETTER?!

Augusten Burroughs: A little bit. How'd you meet him?

Natalie: Terrence started seeing my dad after his mom died. She left him everything. He was 41 when I was 13. He told me I was pretty. And he made me believe it. One day, he broke my collar bone, and I had to hitch-hike to the emergency room, and I passed out on the side of the road, and somebody found me. My dad told him that he'd press charges and that he'd go to jail unless he donated money to my college fund. Then he did. $75, 000.

Augusten Burroughs: That's so great. So if you'd just apply--

Natalie: My dad spent it. Every penny. So that the IRS wouldn't take this house. So... I do know what it's like, Augusten... to love somebody who doesn't deserve it. 'Cause they're all you have. God, I hate my life.

Augusten Burroughs: I hate this kitchen. I need high ceilings.

Natalie: Me too.

Augusten Burroughs: Let's get rid of it then. Let's take down the ceiling.

Neil Bookman: "The Angry Nun" by Neil Bookman: "Bitch! Whore of Jesus! Dressed in black, you do not bleed, like a woman should bleed between the legs! But with your ruler, your crucifix of hatred, you strike my tender flesh! I bleed for you! Oh, mother." And then I-I ran out of ink.

Deirdre Burroughs: Good anger! It ended exactly at the right moment.

Dr. Finch: Everyone! Come quickly! Wake up! Wake up! A miracle! A miracle! A miracle has occured!

Agnes Finch: What're you looking at?

Natalie: Dad's morning shit.

Dr. Finch: See? See how the duplicoil is breaking out of the surface of the water? Holy Father. Agnes Finch: Doctor, let me draw you a nice bath.

Dr. Finch: Agnes, go get a shoehorn. A shoehorn, Agnes.

Hope: But what does it mean, Dad?

Dr. Finch: It means our financial situation is turning around. It means things are looking upward. Literally, the shit is pointing out of the pot! Towards Heaven, to God. My turd is a direct communication from the Holy Father. [Augusten and Natalie try to hide their laughter.]

Dr. Finch: No, no, no, no, children. No. Laugh. Laugh! God is... He is the funniest man in the universe. Agnes, I want you to carefully remove this, take it outside, and let it dry in the sun. We're starting a shrine, Agnes. A shrine. Hope, let's prepare.

Deirdre Burroughs: I disapprove of your choices.

Augusten Burroughs: I haven't had a choice!

Deirdre Burroughs: You did when you wrote this, didn't you?

Augusten Burroughs: You read my journal?

Deirdre Burroughs: Don't try and compete with me, Augusten. If you move back in with me, I won't allow it. You'll only get hurt. When I become a very famous woman, they'll write that I had a son who was a writer too, who doesn't compare to my brilliance. I want more for you than that.

Augusten Burroughs: Did you mix your pills again?
Dr. Finch: [Finch wakes up and sees Neil standing over him with a knife.] Neil? What're you doing, son?

Neil Bookman: SHUT UP! I'm not your son!

Natalie: What the hell is going on?

Dr. Finch: It's all right. [Neil drops the knife and walks away crying.]

Dr. Finch: Neil? Neil! NEIL!
Agnes Finch: Natalie is not coming. I told her I'd deal with it.

Augusten Burroughs: Don't try to stop me, Agnes. I'm going. I'm going to miss you.

Agnes Finch: I'll miss you, too. You're a... the best son a mom could ever want. You need to know that. [She hands him a small box filled with money.]

Augusten Burroughs: Oh, my God. Agnes, there's--there's a lot of money here.

Agnes Finch: A penny here, a dime there. It adds up. The Doctor doesn't know I have it, of course. No one does. You know, this morning, the IRS came again. And I almost gave it to them. Then I though, "No. For once in my life, I'm going to invest wisely." When you write a book, you send me a copy. Goodbye, my sweet boy.

Augusten Burroughs: Agnes. What're you gonna do now?

Agnes Finch: I don't know. Maybe I'll take down the Christmas tree.

Dr. Finch: You can't come in here, this is my mastabatorium!

Norman Burroughs: [from trailer] I haven't had a drink in four years.

Deirdre Burroughs: Excuse me (to waittress), can you get him a medal?

Why We War

We’re forgetful. And unimaginative. That’s why we’ll always be fighting each other

Human beings are a lot more evolved than Chimpanzees. Rival tribes of Chimpanzees will posture loudly towards one another, but if territory is invaded Chimpanzees will fight their rivals to the death. To the naked eye, it is a commotion in a forest somewhere, between large, dark hairy animals that don’t even look different from each other. Yet they know their own differences very well, and fight tooth and nail against each other. Once a rival group is defeated, the Chimpanzees eat the dead members of the opposing tribe. No one knows why.

Human beings, who are a lot more evolved than animals, also fight competitively for territory. Even in the office, whether in an advertising agency, a call centre or a bank, staff are very clear on rank, and all are engaged in their obvious or more subversive attempts to claim power for themselves, even at the expense of their peers.
Human beings will always form groups, and these groups will compete against one another, sometimes for one thing, often for a combination.

In the schoolyard, fights are often about making one’s status (strength) clear to the other children. While it is in their interest, a schoolyard may allow school bullies to have their way, even if they don’t like him. Some weaker, isolated children will become loyal sidekicks with a successful bully in exchange for protection and the spoils of bullying. Countries do the same. In the end though, the schoolyard children tolerate their leader only when he operates either directly or indirectly in their best interests. As soon as his power wanes, or once he begins to operate in an intensely unilateral pattern, he will begin to face an endless series of up and coming opponents. He is easily overthrown by any one of a number of usurpers, and each time, that title is up for grabs. So a strong bully is good for the whole schoolyard, especially if he is a reasonably talented and effective, because then clarity prevails on who and what belongs where. A powerful but increasingly ineffectual bully on the other hand, illustrates a perilous Schoolyard situation. Imagine how dangerous the world must be as the leading Superpower finds itself increasingly quagmired in not necessarily it’s own problems, but world scale problems like climate change and resource depletion.

So.with that in mind, pick any war. Study it up close. You’ll wonder how on Earth people permitted themselves to go to war ever again, knowing the horror and atrocity involved when hundreds of thousands of people spend 24 hours a day implementing their murderous strategies. Civilian casualties in the Korean and Vietnam wars were in the millions. In the 2nd World War something like 20 million Russians died. In Iraq the civilian tolls are estimated at anywhere from 50 000 to multiples of 100 000. I know, the larger the number, the more meaningless it is.

Here’s an easy way to process those numbers. Go to a baseball game or any other sports event with a big stadium. Now imagine everyone in that stadium including you, gone. Their clothes, cars, houses still there, but the people, gone forever. You’d have to visit thousands of fully packed stadiums to experience what 20 million people feels like. It’s a lot of human beings, so it might take you all year. The point is, simply by providing you with this description, you’re doing one fairly useful thing: you’re actually taking an extra few moments to realize that you can’t actually imagine the scale of massacre involved. That’s an okay place to start.

Like buying a house, getting married and having kids, having a war can at first seem like a simple, half decent idea. You might have some damn good reasons too. The reasons will probably never involve you directly (unless of course, you’re the victim of a war, meaning, if you’re invaded and your streets are suddenly filled with boots and the dripping weapons of a foreign power). For the guy who chooses to go to war, as Hitler did, it’s probably a case of believing that the good guys always win, and deserve to (and God is on our side), and if so, why not? What’s to lose?

Quite a lot really. And the problem is that the definition ‘good guys’ is relative. From whose point of view are the good guys the good guys? And when the good guys pray to God, asking him to give them a victory over the enemy, who does God listen to? It’s a little like two soccer teams about to play for the World Cup, and both ardently pray to God to have them win. That’s called conceit. Is it fair that God singles out one team for the victory? What does that say about the team’s accountability to themselves and to reality, to hard work, or just to how the game works? More interestingly, would God even bother with the plaintive ramblings of a bunch of skinny millionaires with so much else going on in the universe? Why would he even involve himself with something so absolutely unnecessary? And to pick sides? What a bunch of narcissists we are! This is why when we do go to war, God leaves us in our own self-made hell. Because it’s a choice we make, it’s what we do to ourselves, despite the invoking of his name throughout. Was Jesus ever a soldier? Did he ever fight in a battle?

I would have thought that by now we’ve examined war in enough detail to know for certain what it is we’re dealing with. Have you seen The World At War? Or watched recent movies like Black Hawk Down and Saving Private Ryan? Not much good happens in a war; in fact it’s fair to say that war, for whatever reason, is a very bad idea.

Of course, whenever there is a war, the following words and sentiments become popular:
- hero
- patriot
- proud
- courageous
- sacrifice

It’s strange though, when you think about it. Imagine two teams of soccer players looking up to the stadium and seeing their entire audience vanquished by a laser beam from an alien spaceship. Anyone think they’d continue playing their game? They’d be struck dumb by the terrible horror of it. And as the soft gray ashes fluttered down on the field, like slow falling fluffs of snow, would one of the players write a poetic and meaningful story about the game, about sacrifice, courage and heroism? No. In the face of such spectacular slaughter, it is sufficient to say nothing at all. In fact, if you’ve experienced someone close to you dying, you’ll know that for a certain amount of time, not only are words and sentiments unnecessary, they are actually meaningless. And writing about one’s own dead mother or father or brother is demeaning because it is immediately a contrivance, a distortion of the obvious. Reality speaks better, and more meaningfully, than any man.

It is in our nature to war, and I believe we’re overdue now for a really big one. Have you felt the same sentiment? Many people do. Many people can feel it, like a dark cloud, slowly enveloping the Earth. There are just too many people, too many of us consuming, too many people just like you and me. And while it is important that people everywhere pollute less, consume less, find something meaningful and urgent to do with their lives, it’s never going to happen. Too many people simple aren’t interested in changing. Why should they? A war will quickly change the proportions of our consumption, our perceptions and our habits. We are still not ready, as a species, to choose to change. One more war will bring us closer, unfortunately, to where we need to be. There is no other way.

I think the reason Chimpanzees eat their victims is out of a mixture of fear (of being overrun, contaminated, or controlled by their adversaries) and an excitable bloodlust. They have a terrible fear of their opponents, learned from their parents, and it is only partly rational. Rational because their opponents will, just like they do, eat their victims. But irrational because being controlled by a stronger rival is considered worse than being dead. I don’t believe Chimpanzees eat their rivals because they enjoy eating the meat. They’re natural vegetarians, though ants and grubs play a part in their diet.
In the same way, I don’t believe our species engage in war because we like it. It’s because of very high amounts of indoctrinated fear, some of which is rational. Unfortunately fear of dying is used as a license to kill, instead of do what seems to me to be more intelligent (more evolved), which is to come together to preserve it. But we need to feel satisfied and safe in the knowledge that people who may be a threat to us, and who are perhaps capable of killing us for trying to wipe them out, so we need to know that will be completely and utterly destroyed. Eating the enemy serves this purpose, to soothe the Chimpanzee into thinking he has something to fear from his enemy. We do the same when we watch a movie, or prepare for a romantic evening, or celebrate a holiday. We eat. We eat our fears, we vanquish our enemies.

And our religion is also about blood sacrifice. We drink blood and eat the body when we do the ritual called Communion (which means empathy, and union, and relationship). The highest gift you can give to your fellow man is to sacrifice your own life for another. It’s recommended. It’s celebrated. We worship our God because of it. We’re prepared to kill those who don’t subscribe to it. Someone who tries to save his own life we mock as a coward and a traitor. Strange. The more who die and offer their lives to death, the better? Is that a rational psychology?

Meanwhile, you have to wonder, if we have only one life (whether or not we go to some afterlife or not), the fact remains that each creature here on this planet, is alive now, at the same time we are. We’re sharing an experience of what it means to be alive once. We can spend our lives killing everything around us, but that raises the odds of having our own lives – this one single life – lost forever. It is quite a thing to die. Perhaps not so when it is someone else. But it is possible for you to die. It is possible for me to die.

It is possible to die.

We seem to forget that when we’re encouraged to go to war. How important is the outcome of a war, when you and your family are dead?
What does it mean:
To fight for peace?
The war on terror?

It means the slow entry of a bullet or some other jagged piece of metal, slowly, into the vein in your neck. It means a jagged hand disconnected, lying in the Earth. It means one eye having been reduced to a scrambled red egg. It means plenty of sharp, stinging hot projectiles propelling themselves towards you, cutting tissue to ribbons. If you find yourself in a war, you will see horror, you might survive. But probably, you and many around you won’t. Because it is possible to die.

Race Report

Wasn't very vigilant to start off with. We were a huge bunch so I expected them to hang with the stronger guys for at least 5km. When I looked again they'd floated about 200m off the front. Thanks. So I got into the usual setup of arranging a chase. Except there were only a handful of riders of any calibre, and they were hesitant to help.

So I did a lot of long hauls upfront, with your occasional showboat idiot resting for about 10 minutes and then sprinting off the front.

Having said that, although I handled most of the uphills okay, the long drag past Engen wasn't so easy. Legs didn't feel very fresh - think the 60km Thursday was still sitting in them. So started to lose touch with the guys, but over the summit I pulled on the thread and reconnected with some effort, HR maxxing at 167 (which really isn't that high).

Then I took some time to recover and did a nice dummy sprint with 2km to go, then had two showboats to draft behind (who started sprinting way to early) and then the last 300m was a snip. Nice to at least win the finishing sprints of the last two races. At least a bit of justice for being the hardest working rider in both cases. Of course, usually the the hardest working rider that gets punished the most. So nice not to have the exceptions count in my favor.

Distance: 83.1km

Time: 2:14:31

Average speed: 37.1km/h

HR ave: 156 (170 max in sprint)

Total Calories: 2356

The Worst Job In The World

All work, little pay and no respect makes teaching a lot worse than cleaning toilets for a living

It’s a simple amendment with profound consequences. No corporal punishment at school leaves children with the responsibility of finding their own level of discipline and accountability. And as one can expect, the result is a circus of pandemonium and chaos in the classroom.

In my first week at a high school, I employed massive amounts of energy, charm and skill to attempt to manage my students. It appeared to work. My colleagues, who I often discovered in tears, even commented that they were astonished by how controlled my classrooms were. Except, the students were simply dazzled to see a teacher put on such an electric, high energy performance. It was impossible to maintain of course, and even if I had been able to run around the classroom putting out fires all day and being endless versions of Robin Williams mutated with Jim Carrey, they soon impatiently wanted to wrest back control so that they could do – well – anything besides being taught something at school.

Shakira Akabor recently wrote about the difficulties of teaching. I’d like to add my reservations about the absolute lack of discipline in school classrooms today. While I taught at a High School in Bloemfontein, one teacher commented that the children might as well be bricks, for the amount of quality teaching they made themselves receptive to. She said all the brick was required to do was be in the classroom at the right time. You could put it on the desk or on the chair, and did didn’t matter what the brick was wearing, or what it was doing. It could do nothing. It wasn’t required to do homework, contribute anything, not even bring it’s schoolbooks to school. Of course, the teacher would probably spend hundreds of hours yelling, pleading and cajoling the brick, but the brick wouldn’t do anything because it didn’t have to (meaning, it couldn’t be forced to do anything, so it did the minimum). Even so, the brick would get through school because the system is designed to pass – eventually – even the most ineffectual student.

Conditions are such in schools that the student has all the rights in the world, the benefit of the doubt in any important disciplinary finding, and virtually no accountability or need to be accountable (for lack of effort, lack of manners etc). Meanwhile, the teacher has no rights in terms of the student, other than to request that others treat the teacher with respect. It’s laughable because there’s an ongoing ignorance of the teacher’s role, and even though the teacher is required to fill in disciplinary reports, these merely fill up a file, and at worst, the student is brought in for a long conversation. The teacher is extraneous except as a filer, marker, converter of marks – basically an administrator of paper, and a part time stand-up comic. Not that a teacher is funny at all, but he is supposed to stand up and in the ordinary scheme of things can reasonably expect to be ignored, ridiculed, laughed at, threatened, mocked etc. In effect, nothing can be done to enforce the rights of anyone other than the student, and expulsion is virtually unheard of (because after all, now some other school must accept the child).

The physical experience of teaching is something like having one’s lifeblood drained out of you. Imagine having to spend the day yelling at brats who simply do not listen. Not listening may sound like a mild problem, but what it really entails is this: kids who enter and leave the classroom at will (they enjoy being sent out), are constantly distracted by cellphones, gambling, food, habitually throwing things out of windows, who blatantly cheat in tests, who choose to sit in a different seat every day, and try to deceive you for as long as possible about their true identity (answering to someone else’s name, refusing to answer their own name, not doing their own filing, not doing homework). Students also bunk classes by having other kids answer to their names, and by temporarily sitting in another teacher’s class (to avoid writing a test etc). Especially where 95% of the students are black, it is at first very difficult to learn student’s names, or faces, and to keep track of what is really happening (as opposed to what they are telling you is happening).

It’s soul destroying to spend each day shouting across an educational message, while circumstances are being engineered to interfere with this simple activity. It is a setup designed to make the teacher feel increasingly:
- helpless
-frustrated
-desperate
-useless
-angry

What’s more, teachers don’t have the afternoons off, or month long holidays to recover from their daily term time ordeals. Teaching probably has the most unpaid overtime of any job. As the holidays approach, the potential workload triples or worse, as exam papers follow tests, and masses of information have to be converted and entered into a database.
Then there’s the chore of filing, and of going through all the exceptions, all those students who failed tests, or bunked tests, or were absent. These tests have to be retaken, memos excavated for more marking. Then there are the exam papers. The nightmare of marking exam papers is hard to do justice to. There are unending piles of booklets. Each one can take from 5 minutes to 30 minutes or more to mark, depending on content. These marks have to converted and filed once again.

The entire process is even more defeating when one remembers the students they are being done for (or on behalf of). A bunch of self-centred, self ingratiating, self indulgent, ungrateful youngsters who are concerned only about:
- appearance
- things (like cellphones and clothes)
The number of meetings and training courses teachers are required to go on beyond the filing of hundreds of student files (in the abandoned hollows of a classroom filled with lolly pop sticks, orange peels, crushed cheese crisps and soggy balls of mucous soaked toilet paper) is heartbreaking.
If the above is your lot, and you live in the school hostel, and have to do duty, you have virtually no life, or free time of your own. Often when you are not on duty, you might be called to supervise the punishment of a group of children (for example spending your Saturday morning watching kids shovel dirt over a garden), or spend a Sunday afternoon taking a child to hospital (after stubbing off a toenail in the chase to get to the lunch table first). Although I have incredible awe for teachers who have remained in the profession for say, 10 years, or 20 years, I honestly don’t know how or why they do it in the first place. Are they gluttons for punishment, or Saints? South Africa needs something like 30 000 teachers. Don’t ask me! I don’t care what the salary is, nothing will get me to sign up to kill my own spirit. To teach is to live each day through hell and torture. If I had the option, I’d sign up for Iraq first. Seriously.

Iran is Iraq

Click on the title of this post. Currently this story is ranked 2nd on Ohmynews International.

And Friday is payday.

And Saturday is an 80km cycle day

And the Cheetah's versus the Crusaders day

and another day without rain

and we're living in a world where

demand is too young/supply too old

Stern: The Economics of Climate Change

The Economics of Climate Change: The Stern Review concludes that the cost of acting to decrease global emissions of greenhouse gases is far less than the cost of dealing with the effects of climate change if no mitigation efforts are made. However, Mr. Stern warned that "even if we are sensible about climate change and get the emissions down, the climate is going to change still more than it has". While the world was currently experiencing the effects of an increase in global temperatures of 0.7 degrees Celsius, he said that "even if we act strongly to decrease emissions, we've got another 1.5 to 2.0 degrees centigrade to come. So we've seen maybe a quarter or a third of temperature increase we're going to have to cope with. St. Petersburg, New York, London, Cairo, Cape Town, Shanghai, Bombay, Calcutta, Dhaka-they're all under threat from sea-level rise, and many parts of the world will be under threat from hurricanes, typhoons, droughts and floods."

Mr. Stern also warned that the heatwaves that killed thousands of people in Europe in 2003 "will probably be standard by the time we get to 2050", and the Nile river, which ten countries depend on, could drop to one half of current water levels in the second half of this century. However, the "business as usual" scenario-where no action is taken to reduce emissions- would lead to changes in the earth's climate, he said, "that we don't really understand, absolutely unprecedented and earth-transforming--the difference between where we are now and the last ice age".

Climate change also highlights global inequities, according to Mr. Stern. "All countries in the world will be affected; we're all in this together, but it is the poor that will be hit earliest and hardest. You just have to look at the effects of Katrina in New Orleans, or the effects of the typhoon that hit Bombay a couple of years ago [in July 2005]." Global security is affected by climate change and "could cause conflict within and across countries", he said, adding that most African leaders he met with at the African Union Summit in Addis Ababa in January 2007 attributed the humanitarian crisis in Darfur to the climate problem-pushed out of their traditional lands by drought, and pastoralists were forced to move and came into conflict with settled farmers.

To reduce emissions, Mr. Stern suggested a range of solutions, which included taxes on emission-producing activities, the development and deployment of low-emission technologies, investing in energy efficiency, and preserving forests around the world. Time is of the essence, he said. "Even though this is a long-term problem, we've got to start now. We've left it very late. If we had gotten our heads around this problem 20 years ago, it would have been much simpler and much cheaper. If we wait another 20 years, it will be still more difficult and expensive." Rich countries must take responsibility for a problem they have caused, Mr. Stern said, suggesting emission reductions of 60 to 80 per cent for developed nations. He noted that France had set the goal of a 75 per cent reduction by 2050, the United Kingdom at 60 per cent and the State of California in the United States aimed at 80 per cent. Developing countries, he added, must understand that they can continue to expand their economies and achieve progress on the Millennium Development Goals-eight targets for human development that UN Member States agreed upon to reach by 2015.

Mr. Stern cited the progressive policy in China, which is "reforesting, not deforesting". The country hoped to make energy production 20 per cent more efficient as part of its 11th five-year plan, which is already underway, he reported, adding that an $8,000 tax was established on sports utility vehicles (SUVs) in Beijing. "I'm much more optimistic six or nine months ago about where the world is moving", he said. He called on the international community to "act strongly and on the right kind of scale", stating further that the United Nations is "a place we can really take that forward in a very powerful way".

Mr. Sachs agreed that "we have to move quickly and urgently on this issue. That means setting in place a full century of transition, with much of the transition being completed by 2050." Some 40 or 50 years from today, energy sources should be very different from what they are today, he said. Supplying significant amounts of energy from nuclear power and coal-fired plants that used carbon sequestration technology, where carbon produced by the burning coal is pumped back into the earth, is "within reach", he noted. Such plants must be built quickly in China or India, in order to see if they are viable as sources of clean energy. "Once those plants are done, everything is going to become a lot clearer and less hypothetical than it is now", Mr. Sachs pointed out.

A Just Connection

We habitually suspend common sense in favor of fantasy and self justifying wish fulfillment

It’s appropriate when people are re-working old arguments to dismantle them with that most uncommon of human faculties: common sense.

I recently came across some writing and then comments in favour of the position that basically assesses homosexuals as 'wrong/unnatural' etc.

Are we clear on what scourge means? It’s been used in the context of homosexuality, and I think we ought be completely clear on what is being suggested. It’s associated with suffering, and flogging (and flogging is punishment). In this case we’re referring to a section of people – homosexuals – as the source of suffering. Often the word ‘scourge’ refers to a thing, for example: the scourge of crime, or malaria, or AIDS. So it’s interesting that Christians (on this website) use frankly inflammatory words to describe a class of people. It’s implied that these people are a direct affliction on the others, and well, aren’t they?

Many Christians triumphantly and loudly claim the Bible to be the absolute and infallible authority on every issue, so let’s have a look at how to deal with the ‘gay scourge’ using the Bible as our absolute and ‘God inspired’ authority.

Luke 19:27: ‘Those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them – bring them here and kill them in front of me.’ – Jesus
Christians may complain that I am quoting these words out of context, but I’ve been to church. Plenty of preachers finger point those verses that substantiate their particular brand of doctrine. May I not do the same?

Well, never mind, let me quote in context then: ‘If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act. They must be put to death.’ – Leviticus 18:22. I can hear some Christians formulating their argument: ‘but that’s from the Old Testament.’ Give me a moment, and I’ll provide another New Testament verse (beyond the Luke scripture already provided).

Plenty of fundamentalist Christians equate homosexuality with other sins, like murder, and they’ll tell you that sin is absolute. Murder doesn’t rank more more or less abominable than being gay. Well, if you believe Christianity is right, then you ought to subscribe fully and fundamentally to the above views, and Christians ought to hunt down homosexuals and hang them where they find them. Read Romans 1: 26-29 for a more detailed background on God’s associations with homosexuality. Being gay is described as shameful and evil, and the association between homosexuals and murderers is very clearly made here.

So Christians could feel entirely justified in calling homosexuals a scourge, an evil plague dragging humanity down. Some do, as we see, but then they run out of steam as they realize where that roads ends, which is the Dark Ages, and the Inquisition. People eventually burned witches willy nilly, and any other intolerables, merely on the suspicion of being evil. Evidence was useful, but not absolutely necessary (as the famous Jeanne d’Arc case demonstrates). And of course, this obsessional targeting of fellow human beings as ‘evil’ provided a great excuse to exact personal revenges and pursue personal and political ambitions (and still does) facilitating a rise to power and fortune, based on claiming (looting) the possessions and properties of someone else cleverly entrapped, accused and executed. There’s the modern war in Iraq described in figurative language.

People seem to be particularly susceptible to figurative language, as though the common sense meaning were temporarily suspended in favor of wish fulfillment.
We can spend a lot of time describing, say, Saddam Hussein as evil, but you know, I found a poll on the internet where the majority of people did not feel that he deserved to be executed. I believe the US also lost momentum in their baying for blood when it came right down to it. Saddam was executed between Christmas Day and New year, and very few of the people who made living room speeches were even aware that it was happening, or cared. In the end he was allowed to be executed by the US controlled state of Iraq simply because of the brou ha ha leading up to his capture. Probably he might have made a half decent prison inmate who could have been used as a consultant on how to restart the state.

What people discovered when he was captured, and when he was killed, was that Saddam Hussein was just a person, a temperamental and haggard fellow who actually ran an exceptionally tight ship (compared to the current disorderly mess) but by employing some very nasty tactics. Most people in the world, Iraqi’s included, would – I’m guessing – probably choose him over the current carnage and unending bloodshed. Perhaps they wouldn’t, but the point is, common sense is the last thing people consider when presidents loudly shout the words ‘evil’ and ‘murderer’ over a microphone.

Christianity stripped of its figurative poetry really boils down to this: God killed his son, and put man eternally in his debt for this great sacrifice. We focus on the sacrifice, and the guilt, but forget the underlying psychology. Any parent today who killed their own child would be treated with utter scorn and severely punished by everyone, including the state and close family members, no matter what the claim to sacrifice was. The exception is if the parent happened to be an Eskimo, where killing of babies has been routine in the wild, when supplies were insufficient. In that case, the grisly deed was meant to insure survival of the tribe, but I doubt whether each child was elevated to the status of deity. There are more urgent and practical things to pursue in the icy wastes of the world, like finding food and staying alive.

It’s also interesting that much of the time the focus is on a man lying with a man (with little or no mention of lesbians). This obvious male bias in the Bible clearly demonstrates a male God which in itself ought to demonstrate where the Bible finds its apparently ‘holy’ inspiration.

Christians should be pretty clear (given the information provided here) that they have to make a choice between what the Bible demands of them, and how they conduct their affairs on a daily basis anyway. It’s very rare that gay bashing escalates to anything more than tongue wagging and finger pointing. We can refer to this as a sort of moderate Christianity. Brian Fleming, in his DVD ‘The God Who Wasn’t There (which I have used to base many of the arguments on in this article), makes the following point: ‘If this book [the Bible] is wrong, what the hell is moderate Christianity? Jesus was only sort’ve the son of God? He only somewhat rose from the dead? Your eternal soul is at stake but you shouldn’t make a big deal out of it? Moderate Christianity makes no sense. Is it any wonder that the majority of Christians choose Christian leaders [like president Bush and worse] who have the courage of their convictions?’

The scourge that is plaguing our world is chronic Disconnectedness, and our Disconnectedness springs from Perpetual Delusion. We refuse to face reality. We slavishly indulge what we wish were true, despite overt pledges to the contrary. We refuse to face the most urgent and obvious crises afflicting the world, even those of just our nearby fellow human beings. We spend our time focusing on petty entertainments and self justifying our judgments and positions. We need to rediscover our common humanity, instead of perpetuating a crazy cycle of inhumanity to our fellow human beings. This can only be achieved through becoming conscious of our connectedness to each other, consciously knowing our part and sharing ourselves with the mountains and forests, with the birds in the sky and the fish in the fathomless oceans of this world.

OwnIndex

Measured last night: 58 (previously 57)

Predicted Maximum HR 182

Cycled 60km this morning
Time: 2:07
HR Avg: 132

Took my car in to PG Glass to replace the cracked windscreen. Excess cost me R350. Ouch, but was able to draw double that off my Ohmynews earnings.

TISA

While the president has spent the majority of his two terms ignoring crime, he is now having a R90 million fortification wall built around the presidential residence in Pretoria. Whatever for?

Could it possibly be to protect him from ‘the most dangerous criminal in South Africa’ – a Mozambican illegal immigrant – who encouraged his mates across the border to enter the country in droves over the Christmas period, because there were such ripe pickings to be had while rich people were away on holiday. This same ‘most wanted’ criminal was allowed to escape from a maximum security prison by the prison guards themselves (who colluded with him).

Why erect a R90 million wall when the SAP are as effective as they are, and beyond reproach. I believe the president gave a speech saying that he will not adulterate criticism of the police force, or the government’s serious intentions to perceive crime as ‘ugly’. (Mr President it’s easy to perceive crime that way when it’s happening in your street, and at your offices, on a daily basis. And if all you’re doing is attempting to perceive what is abundantly obvious, you’re a long way from actually doing what needs to be done).
Of course the police in Volksrust were only doing their job when they arrested a woman for public drunkenness. For this serious crime they threw her in jail with six other men – for the same offence – and subsequently the 19 year old, two 29 year olds, a 33 year old, a 48 year old and a 50 year old took turns raping her. The woman was taken the next morning (were there not police officers in the station during the night?)for medical tests to determine, presumably, if she had been either impregnated during the rapes or worse, infected with HIV or some other disease.

In Wesselsbron a much loved dentist, Dr Jan-Andries Strydom, who worked for more than 50 years as a doctor in this town (and treated mostly the local Africans), was murdered in his home by a fellow wielding a big knife and demanding cash. He’d gotten in through the back door, and kicked the old man whenever he said something. This is according to Strydom’s wife, who was bound. She watched, after the intruder’s final kick and subsequent exit of their home, as her husband drowned in his own blood. She managed to wriggle loose from her bonds, but when she reached her husband he was already dead. She said she didn’t think the burglar meant to kill her husband.

Now it’s against the above background that I’d like to quote from an editorial in the Botswana newspaper, the Sunday Standard (edited by Outsa Mokona). The editorial section is titled Loose Canon: President Zuma will sort out White People.
The writer describes the current South African president (Thabo Mbeki) as ‘The Big Lion’, and depicts his position as ‘the most important in Africa’. Why, because the Lion rules over not just blacks, but whites ‘answer to him’ too. ‘The one thing blacks did’ the writer points out ‘was to make it clear to whites that they won’t tolerate nonsense.’

Today on SABC news apparently powerful black officials dictated terms to the South African Rugby Board. They meant to set a deadline for when teams would reflect the ‘demographic composition’ of the country. That’s code for: ‘put more blacks in the rugby squads’. In offices across the nation, a certain number of black faces (is it 70%) must occupy desks. They want the same to happen on the sports field – in rugby – to reflect the composition of the nation. Sounds fair. I remember when I was at school and the kids chose their teams, they checked your hair, eye and skin color first. Yes, that mattered more than fitness, or training, or performance on the field, or having the winning team, or picking the best players. Yes, I’m sure carrying a demographics chart into the 2010 world cup and doing a survey of all teams (from France, to Korea) will be in order. Who cares who wins right, as long as each team is a perfectly artificial rainbow of representation? I’m sure people all over the world want to watch a fashion show of demographics, pat themselves on the back, and then watch the models and mannequins do a ‘reality show’ called The Soccer/Rugby/Cricket World Cup. That will definitely work. Good one.

Reflecting the attitudes perhaps of Africans all over Africa, but particularly in Zimbabwe and the rest of the subcontinent, the Loose Canon writer goes on to say: ‘I think it is better for owners of the country to get rich as opposed to settlers…Some people complain that only a few blacks are getting rich. I admit it is a matter for concern. But I have no doubt that the poor blacks will soon get rich…I say now that everyone is equal, crime must affect all people equally.”

There are some great solutions already. Bravo. Don’t solve crime, just equalize it, make sure everyone feels it. Great idea. He goes on to say he never understood Mandela, especially because Mandela ‘spent a lot of time smiling and hugging [whites]…

He goes on to postulate: ‘Although the Big Lion in power hasn’t killed any whites they don’t like him. They miss Mandela…Folks I think soon South Africa will have the kind of president who will once and for all sort out the whites…Some of the whites are so poor they have resorted to begging at traffic lights. The sight of white beggars gives me so much joy. Let them taste the feeling. Blacks have been begging since forever…[whites] should count themselves lucky they were not shot on the day of liberation. Perhaps it’s not too late to hang a few whites at the local stadium just to remind them who is in charge…Why didn’t they [blacks] divide white women amongst themselves? But again I don’t think it’s too late. Whites never stop complaining. They whinge about crime. They say the country is the most violent in the world…I can’t wait for him [Zuma] to take over. But as part of sorting out an ungrateful white people I want Zuma to embark on a re-distribution exercise. I want him to distribute white women among the long suffering black chaps in South Africa. He must first choose which white woman he wants. He can even have two.’

I have no doubt that the dentist, who was 82, saw his decent life in South Africa flash before his eyes as the last of his life left him, and as his wife slid from view. I have no doubt that this dentist, who was the only man in the town for the locals to turn to, saw his own blood spool onto the floor in front of him. Your blood has been shed, old man, and for what? Having lived, probably, his whole life in Africa, he probably expected, since it was a good life, he would end his days peacefully. But as the painful swarm fired across his old skeleton, I am sure that he realized his mistake. With his eyelashes dripping he realized: ‘This is South Africa after all, and now I am just another dying white man in Africa.’

There is an abyss in South Africa between the rich and the poor. Crime creates a bridge, something precarious like a rope bridge across a vast gorge. Some precious cargo is ferried in the dark from the mansions and manicured lawns in suburbia to the sea of shanties and smoke on the other side. Each time this happens, the barriers in those mansions go up a little higher, and the wealthy turn their backs even more on the poor. A few thieves and murderers profit, while the abyss widens and deepens. This Is South Africa.

The Fight For Oil in Africa

Photographs by Michael Kamber for The New York Times
Guinean soldiers patrolling in the streets of Conakry. Scores of people have been killed amid riots and a military crackdown in the last month.

Worm Catching

Noticed on BBC news that they intoruced a headline topic by soundtracking it. SABC is to stuck in the Jurassic Era it would never think of being that creative. Today news is entertaining, as scary as that sounds.

Meanwhile, on BBC Hardtalk I listened to Stephen Sackur talking to Senator Jeff Bingaman, the incoming chair of the Senate Energy committee. He has promised tough new legislation to help tackle climate change. He says that the US is paralyzed under the current Adminstration, to the extent it cannot even walk forward. Meanwhile, current events require us to meet the future at a gallop. We're likely to see a frozen stance in the face of an avalanche for another two years. Will we be buried by Energy Crisis by then?

Meanwhile I got up for a drag cycle this morning. Cycled up the long drag and kicked my heart rate up to 167 (with the help of a too-fast-to-catch truck.) Legs were still tired from yesterday.

Feeling thinner and lighter. Excellent rides early in the week, which will mean I'll be strong and rested and fresh for the 80km race on Saturday. The race also includes the long drag section I've been working on.

Meanwhile I have my eye on the top two frames...