Road Trip

Good Friday

It’s Easter, 2011, and we are doing something I thought we would never do. We have set out on a road trip to visit a friend who has moved from Spain to France, and the only time we can find to make a visit is during the Easter school break. Normally, when all the world, and his brothers and sisters take to the road I stay at home. That is because over holiday times like these there is usually a spike in deaths on the road. As a compromise we gave them all a head start and we waited until Good Friday to set out. Good move, as the roads were practically empty.

We left Valencia on the way to Zaragoza as a first stage, with a stop in Teruel for coffee and to stretch our legs. We arrived at noonday when the drums broke their Good Friday silence in a roar. The tradition is for drummers to commemorate the Crucifixion and burial of Christ starting at noon. It also made for a very nice welcome to us. In all, there were about 50 drummers, and that for us was quite impressive. Little did we know!

We carried on our travels arriving in Zaragoza about 3pm, and we found our hotel easily because it was situated on the Plaza Pilar, one of the main centres with a massive open space, fronted on one side by the great Basilica and church, and on the other by hotels and restaurants. At the moment that we arrived there was one of the Brotherhoods on parade with drums and wearing the pointy-headed costumes that is normal for Semana Santa festivities.

After a nice lunch we wondered around for a little while, and very rapidly it was time for the great processions commemorating the burial of Christ. This is done by parading Christ in various stages of the taking down from the cross, to the final depiction being Mary, the Mother of Christ being portrayed in all her pain and sorrow.

We had read somewhere that this would involve a total of about 10,000 drummers, but we assumed that to be a typo. There were many Brotherhoods participating, each one from a different church, and consisting of about 200 drummers in each group, some of them were very little children whose drums were bigger than they were. The processions went on for about three hours and were very colourful, so I suppose that in the end there were about 10,000 drummers, or so it seemed. The noise was deafening and was not to be ignored.

I’m not a very religious person, but I did have empathy with the believers on that day. One point of interest was that we had asked a policeman about the route of the parade beforehand, and whether the procession would pass our hotel. He said that they never passed that way, however; the parade has finished about an hour ago and we are now back at our hotel. Probably most of the groups are not yet prepared to call it a day, so they are parading around and around the plaza in front of our hotel.

That’s all well and good, but when are these people going to go home?

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Strange Dreams

Wille and the Monster Hand

Everyone and his brother and sister has at one time or another done what I did last night. I had a very strange dream, in colour, complete with smells. It was something right out of Stephen King, and the thing that is most peculiar of all is that I cannot find any hint of what might have brought this type of dream on, in such exquisite detail.

The Setting:

My dream involved a cast of characters of a single parent, poor black family living on the Louisiana Bayou. There was a mother, two boys and a girl. They lived in a wooden rundown shack with a porch, and they were surrounded by water with alligators. The principal character was the youngest boy, about 10 years old. His name was Willie who had several problems that made him a little strange. He was constantly picked on by his mother and by both his siblings, so Willie became a loner He had a mutt for a friend and he wandered around poking into this and that. In my dream I could hear the dialogue and the bullying of this little boy. The one thing that hurt him the most was his mother saying, “Willie, you’re just like your daddy, good for nothing!”

In my dream I was seeing this story unfold as part of a movie audience. We, the audience were certain that Willie would be taken by an alligator, and several times he had very narrow escapes that gave us a real shock. One day while Willie was playing in the water, something, that we never got to see, bit him on his right hand. His hand instantly became swollen and took the shape of a giant lobster claw. The claw had a mouth and a stomach, and it could talk. The claw became Willie’s best friend and his secret.

Whenever there were other people about the claw disappeared. The claw had an obsession with cats. Whenever a cat came into view the claw would drag Willie after it at incredible speed, and it would eat the cat. Other than that the claw was harmless. However, it was aware of the bad treatment that Willie was suffering from his family. On one such example of abuse from his brother the hand/claw struck his brother really hard, against Willie’s will. But the blow so stunned the brother that he backed off.

One day Willie was in his room talking to his claw when his mother heard something and went into the room surprising Willie. He immediately hid his hand/claw behind his back, but his mother insisted that he show her what he was hiding. Of course, Willie said he didn’t have anything, but his mother became violent with him. Let me see what you have behind you, Willie! We could see that the claw was making angry gestures, so we thought that the worst would happen. Willie! Show me what you have, Now!

And I woke up. The only thing that I had seen during the day was an advertisement for “Saw III, 3D” Of course, this is a terror film but I haven’t seen any of the Saw series, so that may have triggered the thought in my mind to create a horror story, but I can’t think of anything that would have directed my thoughts that way. Dreams are wonderful ways to escape, and they can be so vivid and detailed. I know there are people who try to make some sort of science about interpreting dreams, but frankly, I think dreams are usually just the entertainment during the sleep trip. They provide a means to fantasize and even to get the girl that is otherwise unattainable. That’s all, and nothing more.

The thing that is unusual about this dream is that I remembered it long enough to write it down.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Strange Dreams

Wille and the Monster Hand

Everyone and his brother and sister has at one time or another done what I did last night. I had a very strange dream, in colour, complete with smells. It was something right out of Stephen King, and the thing that is most peculiar of all is that I cannot find any hint of what might have brought this type of dream on, in such exquisite detail.

The Setting: My dream involved a cast of characters of a single parent, poor black family living on the Louisiana Bayou. There was a mother, two boys and a girl. They lived in a wooden rundown shack with a porch, and they were surrounded by water with alligators. The principal character was the youngest boy, about 10 years old. His name was Willie who had several problems that made him a little strange. He was constantly picked on by his mother and by both his siblings, so Willie became a loner He had a mutt for a friend and he wandered around poking into this and that. In my dream I could hear the dialogue and the bullying of this little boy. The one thing that hurt him the most was his mother saying, “Willie, you’re just like your daddy, good for nothing!”

In my dream I was seeing this story unfold as part of a movie audience. We, the audience were certain that Willie would be taken by an alligator, and several times he had very narrow escapes that gave us a real shock. One day while Willie was playing in the water, something, that we never got to see, bit him on his right hand. His hand instantly became swollen and took the shape of a giant lobster claw. The claw had a mouth and a stomach, and it could talk. The claw became Willie’s best friend and his secret. Whenever there were other people about the claw disappeared. The claw had an obsession with cats. Whenever a cat came into view the claw would drag Willie after it at incredible speed, and it would eat the cat. Other than that the claw was harmless. However, it was aware of the bad treatment that Willie was suffering from his family. On one such example of abuse from his brother the hand/claw struck his brother really hard, against Willie’s will. But the blow so stunned the brother that he backed off. One day Willie was in his room talking to his claw when his mother heard something and went into the room surprising Willie. He immediately hid his hand/claw behind his back, but his mother insisted that he show her what he was hiding. Of course, Willie said he didn’t have anything, but his mother became violent with him. Let me see what you have behind you, Willie! We could see that the claw was making angry gestures, so we thought that the worst would happen. Willie! Show me what you have, Now! And I woke up.

The only thing that I had seen during the day was an advertisement for “Saw III, 3D” Of course, this is a terror film but I haven’t seen any of the Saw series, so that may have triggered the thought in my mind to create a horror story, but I can’t think of anything that would have directed my thoughts that way. Dreams are wonderful ways to escape, and they can be so vivid and detailed. I know there are people who try to make some sort of science about interpreting dreams, but frankly, I think dreams are usually just the entertainment during the sleep trip. They provide a means to fantasize and even get the girl that is otherwise unattainable. That’s all, and nothing more. The thing that is unusual about this dream is that I remembered it long enough to write it down.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Libya

Would you buy a used car from this man?

I have always thought that Muamar Quaddafi was quite mad. Just the look of him and his actions suggested that he was not playing with a full deck The one thing that is for certain is that Quaddafi is no Mubarak. His people know him better than I do, so they would have known that they were playing with explosive material when they decided he had to go.

I can unerstand how frustrating living under his rule must have been, and seeing the results next door in Tunisa and Egypt must have been tempting. " The time is right," would have gone the thinking, but when you are dealing with a perceived madman with tremendous resources you have to know that the odds are not on your side. And so it is being proved correct. It was a grave mistake for the people of Libya to attempt to get rid of The Colonel in this manner, and they must now pay the price of their ill-conceived actions. In spite of a no-fly zone and attacks on tanks from the air, Quaddafi has the upper hand with arms and fools who will use them against themselves, in the end. This is very sad as I can understand the urge for freedom. They cannot win, and when it is clear that he has put down the rebellion he will turn on the very people who helped kill the uprising. Meanwhile, a very dangerous precedent has been created. The U.S. and others have attacked Libya for doing the very same thing that Bahrain and Saudi Arabia will likely do in the future. Those countries will not suffer the same fate. They are too important as producers of oil. What a mess!

Copyright (c) 2011 Eugene Carmichael

The Deadly Duo

Earthquake and Tsunami

I believe it may be correct to say that everyone in the world, who has access to a television, is in shock over images of the massive power of Mother Nature. The earthquake and tsunami in Japan is the very best documented by cameras of any major disaster, thanks to the Japanese obsession of recording everything on camera.

What I have seen is so overwhelming that it is impossible to find words to explain my reaction. However, I’m fairly certain that my response was universal, as I watched in horror, with mouth open, occasionally muttering “Oh….. My……. God!”

We have had two major events of a similar nature, one in Haiti, which was completely unprepared, and the other in Japan where earthquake readiness has been refined to a fine art. However, no-one can be prepared for a tsunami of the size and power of the one that rolled over Japan.

Tsunami: a Japanese word, literally meaning, “harbour wave” but in practise is a large destructive ocean wave caused by an underwater earthquake.

Recently, I watched a documentary of the history of the world that was presented, I think, by National Geographic. It was truly interesting and very well done. It covered the various changes that the world has undergone since time began. The history of the world reflects the fact that there have been periods when The Sahara Desert was under water; of when mountains were under water, and flatlands became mountains through eruptions.

In the beginning all of the land mass was joined, and since then, through violent eruptions and movement the land was torn apart and moved thousands upon thousands of kilometres apart. Climate has gone through several cycles from ice age and heat. Whole species have been wiped out. From time to time certain species need to be culled as they place an over-bearing strain upon the earth’s resources. Mankind is doing just that as we speak.

What is clear is that Mother Nature decides to periodically change things around, as any good Administrator is inclined to do. In the early years the world was not very developed by man’s hand, and the changes that happened affected relatively few people. But, look at the world now. An earthquake of minimum proportions, or a hurricane impacts a lot of people. However, these changes are part of the constant evolution of the world. At the moment the cycle is Global Warming that many refuse to believe is happening.

The Japanese tragedy is a Triple disaster consisting of three principal earthquakes that happened simultaneously, followed by a catastrophic tsunami, and the icing on the cake: a full-scale nuclear meltdown. One day the people were celebrating life, and the next, without warning they were dead. My thoughts are with them and their survivors.

Warning! There is more to come at a location near you and me.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

A Wonderful Cat Story

Anyone know how to administer a pill to this wonderful creature?

A family of four, Mother and Father, son and 14 year-old daughter were in the process of relocating from one country to another. They were at the airport securing their dog and cat for the flight, when an accident happened in the airline office. A worker accidentally knocked the cat carrier to the floor, and that caused the carrier door to spring open, and the cat sprang out.

“Close all doors and windows!” went the cry. “Don’t let that cat out!” Just then, someone walked in and the cat was gone in a flash, which was the cat’s name. Given that this was in an airport there are “no-go” areas, and “absolutely no-go” areas. However, airport staff, Customs officers, Police, and travellers all ended up chasing the cat all over the building. “Dear God, please don’t let him get on the runway!”

The plane was ready to leave, so father and son left with the dog, and mother and daughter, whose cat it was, stayed to try and corral Flash. Fortunately, when the cat left the building he was on the public side and running for the sea, followed by mother and daughter. A man was passing in his car, having just collected his young son from a flight. He followed the women where they were peering down a very deep drop at the sea. They could hear the cat at the bottom in a crevice, with the sea lapping at the shore.

The man was an off-duty Customs Officer. “Wait here”, he commanded. A very short time later he reappeared with a very long rope. He said to the daughter that he would make her a harness and lower her down, and hopefully the cat would come to her. He was amazed how readily she agreed. So, carefully he lowered her where she got soaking wet, but a terrified Flash came shaking to her. Now that she was holding him and crying she couldn’t get back up because she didn’t dare let the cat go.

As there was more rope left, her mother said I will go down and together we will get the cat back. Unfortunately, the airport had gone back to business as usual and no-one else had come after them, because the man could have really used the help of several strong fellows. That notwithstanding, he somehow managed to pull both of the women up, and the cat, with the help of his young son.

A substitute cat carrier was found and they all left on the next flight. Their adventure had begun!

The world seems to be crumbling around our ears and we are besieged by bad news. In the midst of all that negative stuff this story happened. It was a chance for one very unassuming man to become a full fledged hero; a young girl’s heart was broken and very quickly mended; a lot of people got a chance to try to do something very positive; and the story ended happily.

It simply doesn’t get any better than that!


Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Playboy, Penthouse, et. al.

Too much of a Good Thing?

I recently watched a television presentation about the rise and fall of Playboy, and that reminded me that I bought the first edition of the magazine, and many, many editions after that. Playboy consumed my imagination and changed my outlook on life. I bought not only the magazine but the whole concept. I was a Playboy Man, and I tried to embody the total lifestyle.

I took up smoking and I smoked Cool cigarettes, because that was the brand that Playboy pushed. Later, when the magazine changed to Benson & Hedges, I changed too. Then, when they said that the real Playboy man would smoke only Benson & Hedges Gold, and would carry his cigarettes in a gold case, and use a gold lighter, I went right along with all of that.

It seemed that girls were reading Playboy as well, as they seemed to know exactly what was expected from the modern woman. Life for me, at least for a time was one big party. However, if you are hearing a tinge of regret in all of this, you are right.

These were times of sexual freedom and people did some things in those days that you would have to be absolutely mad to do today. Remember, these were the days before AIDS. Herpes was something we didn’t like to think about and we played Russian roulette with our bodies. Then came AIDS, but the problem was exclusively one for the gay society, so we partied on. Then it found its way into the hetero-sexual society and that took the smile of confidence from our faces. As we came to understand more about the incubation period we became downright worried, and I turned my back on all those monthly men’s magazines.

Personally, I came to realise that something had not been added to life, but rather we were, and are suffering a sense of loss of magic. In the relationships between men and women it is not in my opinion a healthy thing that there is so much openness. We wear clothes for many very good reasons, and one of them is the guarding of the mystery of each other.

I admit that to begin with I bought and kept the magazines for the pictures of naked women. The pictures grew more explicit until I could tell what the girl had had for breakfast. There was nothing more I needed to know about her, especially as a picture on a page. That same attitude carried over into my private life and my inter-action with women. Unfortunately, women became as expendable as the magazines, and that was really the whole sadness of it all.

By comparison, we see how Islamic men and women inter-act. The woman is covered up in public, and in some cases to ridiculous extremes, but her beauty is reserved for her husband and her family. He is presumably constantly stimulated by what he only feels but does not actually see, but Western man has no need for his imagination, and consequently, without the aid of the mysterious his interest quite naturally wanes far too soon.

I recall the moment the light went on in my head. I had spent an evening out with a new woman, and at the end of the evening when I took her back home I was invited in for a “nightcap.” Generally that meant sex. However, I really liked this woman and it didn’t seem right, so I asked her to be patient with me for not asking for sex on our first date.

She broke down and cried, and spent the next hour trying to make me realize how difficult life as a woman was. We men, it seemed expected her to pay with her body for any time we spent with her. She had to decide that she would go to bed with me when I asked, before saying yes to a date. For that reason she hardly ever went out.

I felt, on behalf of all my fellow men, like a real shit!

For the publishers of men’s monthly magazines, they might have realized that a case of less would have been more, but I don’t expect that any of the people who took the money would ever see that. As time moved on, I found myself far more interested in the very excellent articles in the magazines than the girls. I started to question my sexual being, but the fact of the matter is that you can only serve up cheesecake so many ways to make it interesting. After that, I need to move on. I no longer buy the magazines, and nude pictures of women do nothing for me. Even the topless girls on the beaches of Spain leave me cold, and apparently most of the other men feel the same way. One day a woman and a man went walking along the beach, both of them topless. I doubt if much more attention was paid to her than to him. What a sorry thing to have to say.

Hugh Hefner is now about 85, and for him, in his words “it’s been a hell of a ride, and it’s not over yet.” Even if we look at his life we see a man who has seemingly grown sick and tired, or at least blasé of too much of a very good thing.

For me, looking back if I had it to do all over again I like to think I would have done many things differently, especially succumbing to the Playboy lifestyle. I gave up quality for quantity, and that is never a good thing.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Capitalist America with a Social Conscience

Open to New Ideas

It has been ingrained into every American child that the American systems of capitalism and democracy are the only correct systems for the world, and that it is very difficult to think beyond those teachings when your country is as big and powerful as the U.S. However, the world is not a place like that where only one way is true and acceptable. The world is a diverse globe with many systems in which people believe. Others may criticize, and indeed there will always be room for improvements in all systems, but the challenge is to keep an open mind that can lead to a better style of living in each country.

I was one of the people who looked on with amazement over the battle to expand health care reform in the U.S. to ensure that citizens were not dying in the streets due to inaccessible health care. I could not see why there was even an argument at all over the basic philosophy.

America is a country that believes in the value of personal meritocracy. Study hard; work hard; gain the promotions and work your way to the very top and you will be revered and entitled to all the respect and reward that is a part of your position. There is fundamentally not too much that is wrong with that in theory, except that there is very little room at the top. Every society should have a healthy middle class, and even the lower class should be entitled to a respectable standard of living.

The rich take care of themselves, and they are very choosy about whom to invite within their ranks. The meritocracy about which we speak is usually the path forward that is lubricated through who one knows, rather than what knowledge is actually possessed. How a society takes care of its middle and lower class is the standard by which it is judged. The so-called trickle-down system can only work if there is enough to trickle-down. In these very difficult times it is somewhat debateable whether that theory is of any use.

These times call for more flexible thinking, the so-called “out-of-the box” creative thinking, and that means prejudice against other ideas will serve to defeat one even before starting. I’m not putting forward any particular ideas for acceptance by the panel of U.S. scholars who must resolve their country’s problems, but one idea that Spain has used as a form of financial stimulus program for several hundred years is a national lottery, the purpose of which is to put as much money as possible in the hands of as many people as possible.

These lotteries take place around Christmas and the beginning of the year, and winnings are tax-free and paid in one lump sum. The tens of thousands of winners use their new found wealth to pay off debts, buy new houses, cars, and generally to share it into the community.

The point I’m trying to make here is that such a lottery system as socialist as this will probably never get consideration within the U.S. simply because it is socialist. It certainly has far more merit than the one-person wins all type of lottery.

More information on this idea can be found at wikipedia.com/elgordo. In the meantime, keeping an open mind to new ideas can be one of the most positive things one can do.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

My Once-in-a-Lifetime act of Violence

My Once-in-a-Lifetime act of Violence

The results were at least constructive

In one of my previous blogs I wrote about bullying, and the fact that anyone is a bully if he or she seeks to put another person down in order to "big up" their own self. Having talked to a couple of people it seems that life is constructed of the bullied and the bullies. This is a very serious problem, and a flaw in human nature.

It will come as no surprise that I confess to having at one time played the role of both.

As a young child I found it easier to hang out with the losers. At that time I was not a good student and this greatly troubled one of my teachers, who I will call Mr. Sweeting, because that was his name. I had failed to complete my homework assignment for him, again, and he said that I would have to stay after class to complete the work. I was not a happy chappy.

After the other children had left he told me that he wanted me to stay because he wanted to say that he thought I was throwing away my opportunities. He could tell I could do so much more with my studies, and that by hanging out with a group of boys who obviously would not achieve much in life I was hurting myself.

That message was received by me as him disrespecting my homies. How dare he! I wanted to hear no more and began to leave. I bullied him, and there was a little scuffle, he stepped back and I was gone. I was fuming on the way home when I got an idea. I would tell my father that he had slapped me around without provocation on my part, and my father would go to the school and sort him out.

When my father came home I put on my sad face and told him my story. I said I just didn’t think it was right that an adult should be treating a child in such a manner. My father immediately became genuinely angry, to my complete satisfaction. My father was a big man, and a person who was strictly uncomplicated. Trouble between a teacher and his son! He wasn’t having it. How did he hit you? Was it an open-handed slap, LIKE THIS!!! SLAP!

The slap knocked me off my feet and sent me sailing through the screen door that was left hanging on one hinge. Now my father was really pissed because I had broken the door and he would have to fix it. I lay in the dirt wondering what the hell went wrong when he came out and scooped me up. He said, did he hit you with a closed fist, like this? I will tell you that I screamed a scream unlike you have ever heard:” No! It never happened!” My scream must have been heard halfway around the world.

He said, “ I send you to school to get an education. I don’t care if the teachers have to pound it into your head with a mallet. Don’t you ever bring such nonsensical stories home, and do not make it necessary for a teacher to complain about you. Now, get an education!”

I sat outdoors for hours asking myself what the hell did I just do? Who did I prefer to lock horns with, my father or the gang?

The trouble started right away as soon as the gang sensed a change in my attitude. The bullying was intense as I tried to settle down to study. It all came to a head during one lunch hour when I went to the boy’s toilets. The gang followed me in and harassed me relentlessly, culminating in hanging me head down into the hole in a bench with the latrine below. My terror was so complete that someone went to call a teacher. That teacher was Mr. Sweeting who came to my rescue, just as the bell rang. He was also the teacher who took my next class, which was gardening.

My crying was unstoppable, so he placed me on my own in one corner of the garden and gave me a pitchfork to turn over the ground, and the rest of the boys were allocated the opposite corner. He then briefly left to inform the head teacher of what was going on. In that short space of time the gang leader, and bully-in-chief, came over to me. I didn’t even know he was there until I saw his shoes and heard him say, “so, you love me, huh!”

I don´t know where it came from. I didn´t think about it, I just picked up the pitchfork and slammed it through his shoe and foot until it would not go any further. He was pinned to the ground and his whole frame shook like jelly as he swayed like a giant tree. His blood seemed to spray from his foot like a watering hose.

The entire school went mad, and I was sent home. It was customary for me to walk the seven miles to school, so I set off to walk home. However, I did not go home, instead I waited on the shortcut where I knew the second in command would pass as he was my neighbour, separated by two houses. As he came into view the branch of the tree that I had in my hand crushed his nose like an over-ripe tomato. “Leave me alone!” That was my demand.

A policeman came to our house that evening to inform my parents of what had taken place. That was the first they knew that something had happened. The officer said that I had been under extreme harassment and bullying, and in all good conscious they could not bring charges against me, provided I took no further action.

My father looked at me in complete amazement, and I told him I was trying to get an education. He never moved, and his mouth just hung open.

The incident happened on a Friday, and on Monday morning I arrived at school early and took up a position at the flagpole. The children sensed that something would happen and began to gather around. I was waiting to sort out the leader of the girl gang who had also been a thorn in my side, but when she came up the steps and saw me she dropped her books and ran back the way she had come, and was absent from school for a week.

During that week a group of the boys came up to me to apologise for their behaviour, and because I was the one who took their leader down they wanted to pledge their loyalty to me. What did I want them to do?

My reply was as follows: “You come to school to get an education, so get an education! Secondly, leave me the hell alone!!”

I went on to become a grade-A student, normally graduating each class in first or second place.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

To Topple a Giant-Hosni Mubarak

To Topple a Giant-Hosni Mubarak


Over an eighteen-day period, starting in late January and ending on February 11th, 2011, the world watched as the Egyptian people wrote the manual on “How to Topple a Dictator.” Their methodology was perfect and efficient. Of course, their inspiration came from Tunisia where the people there were even more ruthless and successful, although their task was not as great as that in Egypt.

It all goes to prove once again that every great change starts with the power of one. On a day in Tunisia the police took away a young man’s food items that he was trying to sell. With that he became so despondent that he decided that he might just as well kill himself, and this he did by setting fire to himself. Those flames translated into the fire of discontent with the government and its leader who had ruled comfortably for 23 years. Within a week he and his family were fleeing for their lives.

Meanwhile, the people in Egypt took note and decided that what they had seen was a very good idea indeed. What the world has witnessed in both situations is nothing less than a sea change in the Arab world, and quite possibly in the Western world as well. People power, when properly harnessed can be awesome.

Egypt, a land of Pharaohs, Mummies, Great Pyramids, and The Sphinx has always been central to the rest of the world. The Egyptians have given so much learning to the world, and much mystery as well. It should not be too surprising that this most populist country of the Arabic world would lead the way in effecting such extraordinary change. Arab dictators and kings are now on notice that life and power can never be taken for granted.

Politics in Egypt has moved slowly and along the path of Dynasties. For Hosni Mubarak, who ruled for 30 years, this would have been an expected length of time to rule. I feel certain that he was intending to rule until the day he died. After all, The Pharaoh Ramesses II ruled for 67 years.

However, one thing is becoming clear in politics, and it is this: The patience of the people will allow for a maximum period of leadership of 12 years. That is three terms of four years each, enough time to implement changes and see them through to fruition. Beyond that the public start to grow restless and they crave change. Savvy politicians even run on a platform that calls for a change of political party to rule the country, simply because it is time.

Whether you are a King or Queen who directly rules your country, or a dictator or political party, you need to take account of the fact that after 12 years your time is up. Should you stay beyond that period of time you will outstay your welcome. We can only try to understand the shock and awe that deposed rulers are trying to cope with today after having been fired by their subjects.

What we have seen in Tunisia and Egypt are only the first steps in their change. What the future will bring for them is unclear. The United States hopes that U.S. style democracy will be the accepted form of life in these countries, but that form of governance has its own drawbacks in that party comes first before country.

We should avoid thinking that these historic events only affect the subject countries. In fact, they have a worldwide impact in ways that we are not able to comprehend at this moment, but your life and mind will be influenced as well.

P.S. The thought crossed my mind that if such an incredible action happened in Egypt, it could surely happen anywhere. I turned on the television the day after the president resigned and found myself watching pictures of people scuffling with police and being arrested. I thought that was all over with and I was very confused, until I discovered I was looking at live pictures from Algeria.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Suspending Disbelief

Suspending Disbelief-Hiking in Iran?

Apparently three young American hikers were out for a stroll in Iraq one day when they made a wrong turn and crossed into Iran. Oops! The Iranian authorities picked them up and charged them with being on a spy mission. Now, that government is under pressure to let them all go. They have already released the woman, who became engaged to one of the young men while in detention. (How did that happen?)

The trial has begun in Iran, in which the two men are in custody and the woman has been released back to the United States, but is being charged in absentia.

That is the public story, and the “hikers” have declared that they are simply adventurous and innocent young people. They apologised for trespassing, and the young woman has thanked the rich man who posted bail for her, which is an outright gift because she won’t be going back Now they all want the same thing to happen for the two remaining detainees, and that is supposed to be that.

The last time I looked Iraq was a country engrossed in war and internal strife, so why on earth would three innocent young Americans find themselves going walkabout there as though they were in Kansas? Did they miss the fact that thousands of people were dying while the bombs and IED’s were going off? Are we supposed to believe that they simply walked into a travel agency and asked to be booked to fly into Iraq? How the hell did they get into the country in the first place?

The Iranians think that they were in their country to spy. What would be so interesting in Iran to collect information about? Well, there’s just a little matter of the Iranians developing nuclear weapons that is of paramount interest to the U.S. So, sure, is there a case to answer? I think so, and I also resent being fed the line of bullshit that they want me to accept.

I have no way of knowing who the three people really are, but the one thing is for sure, and that is, I don’t buy their story. Do you?

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Former President George H. Bush

Former President George H. Bush - An American Icon

I watched an interesting interview between the former president, his wife Barbara and Larry King recently. I was delighted to see that both the President and Mrs. Bush seemed to have their health and were in full control of their faculties, and in particular they retain their sense of humour.

This was a president that I liked a lot. I should qualify that by saying that I am not a republican, nor am I a Democrat, for I am not even an American. These are important qualifications because when it comes to American political commentary you can never get a straight answer. It all depends on who you talk to. This is just to let you know that my comments will be as centre of the road as they can be.

George the father Bush always came over as a very likeable guy, although a little goofy at times, but I never had an issue with any of his policies as president. He was vice –president to Ronald Reagan, the man Republicans just loved, except of course the man who shot him, and I’m not so sure that he was a Democrat. I’m not entirely certain why Ronnie was so loved, except that the one thing he was good at was communicating.

He was a Hollywood actor turned politician who ended up playing the most important role of his life as President of The United States of America. His training in acting came in very handy, and if it were possible for him to have been elected for a third term the voters would have done so.

In a sense that is just what they did by electing his vice-president, and in his term in office George H. Bush gave the country a clear win in a war over Saddamn Hussein. Why the electorate then chose to throw him out of office is hard to fathom.

The last time that I saw him was at the commencement of Barak Obama’s presidency. He was not looking all that well, and I understand that Mrs. Bush has not been well either, so to see them both looking well and sounding feisty and funny was wonderful.

During the interview they covered a lot of ground, including their son’s presidency and some of the things that he did. Quite naturally they defended his time in office and the decisions that were taken, and there were comments from their other children and grandchildren as well.

I’m writing this not so much because of the President, but particularly because of Barbara Bush. I feel we should pay a lot more attention to this most amazing of women who was at the head of a household that produced a president in her husband, and a president in one of her sons; and a governor of the State of Texas in one son, and the governor of The State of Florida in another son.

I’m not sure of the accomplishments of her other children, and I was thinking of doing research to find out, but I have decided that’s enough already. What a lady! We need to know a lot more about her and how she turned her family into an authentic American Dynasty.

Stay tuned for the Barbara Bush story.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Footnote of the Father of The Girl next Door

Footnote of the Father of The Girl next Door

In a startling development during this past week, the father of the girl at the centre of my last blog collapsed in the bar that he spent every day, and all day at. He was rushed by ambulance to hospital, and as I write this the prognosis is very grim indeed. He is not expected to recover.

I do not know what the problem is exactly, but I’m betting that it has something to do with his liver

In spite of his maltreatment of his daughter I had hoped for a turn around of fortunes for him. He was a man who was suddenly faced with the sole responsibility of something that overwhelmed him, and he simply was not able to cope adequately. Sure, we can judge him harshly, but if we were in his situation could we have done any better.

It may be difficult to feel sorry for this man, but I can only hope that Heaven will be kind to him.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

The Girl Next Door -Final Chapter

The Girl Next Door -Final Chapter

I predicted that it would end in tears, and it did end that way, but that does not make me any kind of genius. Most people would have called it the same way. If you are just tuning in, here’s a little background:

The girl next door was one of my neighbours who is about 34 years old, but has the understanding of a person aged about seven. She has a number of problems and her mother was her greatest supporter, but the mother died about three or four years ago. What made the girl her own worst enemy was that she had a tendency of breaking out into a prolonged crying state during which she would vomit. It certainly sounded awful and nothing that anyone tried could help her.

I often thought that she was crying for the loss of a normal life that was being denied her. After all, she was a woman on the outside, but a little girl trapped in a woman’s body.

She was a very difficult person to manage, but her mother was always there for her with patience and understanding. Once the mother died she was left in the care of her father who had limited intelligence and was completely out of his depth with her. The rest of the family decided to get on with their lives and leave it to daddy, but he was so frustrated that he took it out on her. The abuse was horrible and the crying more frequent and intense.

None of the family came to her help, nor any of the other neighbours would step forward. It fell on me, the foreigner to report the matter to the police and the City Hall. Investigations were held and everyone agreed that the situation was just not right and that something had to be done. Time went on, and the abuse continued through the first anniversary of the initial intervention; and the second anniversary came and went, and I was certain that he would strike her and kill her in a drunken rage.

If that happened there would be tears all around, and much shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders, and then everybody would go back to their lives except the girl next door. She would simply be gone, failed by the system and everyone within it.

And then, out of the blue the Nuns came for her. They took her to their Convent and introduced her to other young people with similar living problems. She cried copious tears in separating from her father as they spent every minute of every day together, most of that time living in terror for her. At least she knew her life with her father, and all these people were strangers to her. This was even more terrifying, but with the help of her new friends she quickly settled down and came to realise that she was making a quantum leap forward.

Now, she is a completely new person. She no longer cries, and she has proven that she can learn. She can reach out to her relatives; she can make decisions on her own, and she can complete ordinary living tasks and be responsible for herself to a certain extent. She has put on weight as she is eating properly and has found a new sense of self worth.

Perhaps that was what she had been crying for all those many years. I am so very happy for her. This story could not have a happier ending, even for her father who could possibly meet a widow and have something of a life for himself.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Smokers, and smoking in Spain

Smokers, and smoking in Spain

New Year’s Resolution for smokers in Spain:
“ I will not smoke in my workplace nor in bars and restaurants, etc in Spain from January 1, 2011.”

When I came to Spain eleven years ago, I had come from a country that had already turned its back on smoking in public and at work. One of the first things I noticed here was a young mother nursing her baby while smoking and I concluded that people here must be rabid smokers, and that Spain would never change its smoking habits.

From the beginning of 2011 smoking has been banned in all places serving the public; in places of employment, as well as certain outdoors areas. That order replaces the failed attempt that made a fool of the government by simply allowing owners of certain establishments to choose to allow smoking. That was what they did in the first place. This is an amazing turnabout, and one I am personally happy to see.

However, I must say that I have sympathy with addicted smokers, and that means about 99% of them. I am a recovering smoker, having given up the habit 48 years ago. After all this time the best I can say is that I’m still recovering. I am one cigarette away from starting again, and there are times when if my companion lights up I lean a little closer to the action. My position as an ex-smoker is: love the smoker; hate the habit.

Consider the poor person who is a committed smoker. When his body yearns for nicotine he simply lights up a cigarette. Because of weather complications, some smokers entered an airport, and didn’t exit until 12 hours later. All that time he is not allowed to smoke. That must really be difficult.

I take serious issue with the CEOs of the tobacco companies who took an oath to tell the truth, then stated that they did not believe that cigarette smoking was addictive.

Lying, dishonest bastards!

I believe, as all smokers do that cigarette smoking is addictive and that those Chief Executive Officers of their cigarette producing companies lead the charge to make them more or less addictive. If they really do not believe smoking is addictive then we have the situation that they don’t know what they are doing, and that is really, really scary.

The things that smokers do to non-smokers are truly horrible, and most seem to have no remorse. Have you ever dressed up in your finest clothing and found yourself in the midst of a gang of smokers. You have to smoke whether you want to or not. It’s called passive smoking. Passive, my ass! They force you to do so. They also make you stink, and your nice expensive clothes are ready to be thrown in the trash bin when you get home. I have heard of people who actually undress outside where they leave their clothes for days to lose the smell.

When you have smokers to your house they leave their tell-tale foul aroma. Because our house is a non-smoking area, our smoker visitors go outside to have a fag. They crunch out the butts in the ashtray (which I later handle like a stool sample) and come inside, where they exude the smell of tar through their veins. It’s a smell uncomfortably close to vomit.

I smoked during a period when smoking was Cooooool! It was advertised especially during PrimeTime television, but then The Marlboro Man died of cancer. Ooops! Back then we considered it was our right to smoke and we gave it no more thought than that. If somebody said yea, but what about my right not to have to smoke your second hand discharge; and my right to work in a smokeless environment; and all my other rights that you smokers trample on? I’m fairly sure our response as smokers would not have been very kind.

So, what can we non-smokers do to get even with smokers? To copy the disagreeable smell we could belch the used smell of garlic, or fart the smell of day old boiled eggs.
To copy the crunched up cigarette butts that smokers don’t seem to think is litter, I could drop chewing gum on your patio or carpet. (If I let you smoke in my house, then I’m the dummy.) I could do those things, but they are so disgusting that I simply would not. (At least not in the company of someone.)

Instead, you are now simply being thrown out, exiled to the great outdoors to form a ghetto. I’m sorry for you because you probably got started because the cigarette pushers gave you freebies when you were in college, or you thought the adverts were so wonderful, or like so many you simply carried on the great family tradition because your mom and dad smoked. Now that you are beginning to feel like a leper you are simply unable to stop.

But, the people who make the products say they are not addictive. What would you like to say to them?

Footnote: Now that the law has been in place for about a week and that compliance is ruthless, it is beginning to become apparent that life-long smokers are making a determined effort to quit by any means possible. Some are even admitting that this is probably the move they needed. While cigarette smoking does not kill all smokers, smoking is definitely not a healthy option. Any practice that adds costs to the medical health bill eventually is a cost to us all.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Not a Perfect Ten , But…..

Not a Perfect Ten , But…..

Adiós 2010..Bienvenido 2011

As the year 2010 has come to an end I take a personal look back and give the year a grade. It was not a perfect 10, but it was not a year that for my family and myself was one that we are glad to see the back of. In my opinion there were two events that come at the top for inspiration. They were FIFA’s World Football Cup that was hosted by South Africa. This was the first time an African country had the opportunity to act as host and they seemed to have satisfied those attending and proved their capabilities. I must also mention that Spain won the cup, as though there is even one person on the planet who does not already know that.

Secondly, the successful rescue of 33 miners from the depths of hell in Chile was nothing short of a miracle. Not such a long time ago the lives of those men would have been lost to a very slow death due to a lack of facilities to get them out. It was a textbook case of everybody involved doing the exact correct thing when required that led to ultimate success. What we saw as each man was brought up into the fresh air was a person being born again, quite literally.

There were no shortages of things to choose from on the downside, but my number one sad occurrence was the loss of the 29 miners in the blow-out of the New Zealand mine in November. I choose this event because it is in such stark contrast with the Chile rescue. The circumstances were so different as to disallow a duplicate of the successful event, and it would not appear that anyone made a bad judgement. What it does highlight is the incredibly dangerous circumstance in which people work on a daily basis to bring energy to you and to me. We really should be aware of such efforts and not take things so much for granted.

Another downside event is the actions of North Korea in their provocations against South Korea. These two countries have existed in a state of suspended war since their cease-fire more than fifty years ago. They have admirably held their fire, even going so far as to find areas of mutual cooperation. Now, it seems that the North are hell-bent on resuming war against the South, and by implication this could be the start of World War Three. What the hell is going through the mind of the dictator?

I must also mention the very sad case of Haiti, an island that has never experienced good luck in its existence. Every bad thing that could happen will have as its destination Haiti. Why Haiti?

What is 2011 likely to bring to the world? I fear that we will see matters go from bad to worse regarding most things. The U.S. Dollar will likely suffer a great setback, and that will have a very serious impact on the economy of that country. The euro also will be greatly affected by certain of its member states and that will severely test the virtue of the concept upon which it is based.

Unfortunately, unemployment will likely get worse, rather than better, and that may lead to more militancy among labour unions. Unfortunately, I just don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel; in fact I cannot even see the end of the tunnel. The capitalist system, like the Communist system is broke, and what is needed are new systems to replace the old.

These are very trying times, but if we take the optimist view it is also a time for opportunity. Necessity is usually the Mother of Invention so hopefully this will bring forth exciting new ways of doing things.

I wish us all positive experiences during this year. I may not be able to see how such positive things will come about, but if we all think positively that will be a start.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

CNN Heros

CNN Heros -Presented by Anderson Cooper

The time has come and gone for the presentation of CNN Heroes. I do hope you saw the show. This year I watched it twice, and I confess I had wet eyes. What an amazing program that is only surpassed by the work that so many people are doing everyday.

For anyone who is not familiar, let me explain the basic concept: CNN has invited the world to submit nominations for their favourite charity program to be included in the American Thanksgiving Day program. For the 2010 program there were 10,000 nominations, from which were short-listed ten charities that were chosen for the program. On the day of the program one was chosen as CNN Hero of the Year. Each of those charities received $25,000 for being on the show, and the winner received an additional $100,000.

All of that is well and good, but in spite of the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed the show I think that the very concept is well and truly flawed. In order for CNN to feature ten charities they had to reject 999, 990 others as being what? Not good enough? The work that they do is not important enough? The Mission was not dramatic enough? Whatever the reasoning I can’t help feel that to put down a hard working charity is the ultimate act of arrogance. Good and wholesome work is just that, and it is done because it needs to be done. It cannot be reasonably judged otherwise.

Having said that, judged they were, and a winner was chosen by a panel from around the world. I cannot imagine how that made the others feel.

The show is a real tearjerker as emotions run very high for people who are directly involved, and for viewers. The mix of work that was represented was just amazing. Here is the line-up:

First we had Susan Barton who lost her very young son to death by car crash. She went to pieces and spent several turns in prison until she had an epiphany and straightened up and decided to work to help women leaving prison reintegrate into society. In the midst of her presentation she introduced us to her hero, her long-suffering husband who stood by her throughout her dark days.

Magnus McFarlane- Barrow was watching war stories from Bosnia one day when he saw children scavenging through the trash for food. He decided to feed them, and now, all these years later he is leading an organisation called Mary’s Meals that feeds 460,000 children around the world, every day. How mind-boggling is that?

Linda Fondren was distressed by two things: That the town in which she lived was voted America’s Most Obsese for three years in a row; and her sister died due to complications from being obese. Linda decided that things just had to change, as she set about shaping up the townsfolk. The town has lost 75,000 pounds, and counting, and they are living longer. She is saving lives!

Harmon Parker came to realise that people in the countryside in Africa frequently suffer the loss of life just trying to cross waterways. They are taken by crocodiles and Hippos and flash floods. What they need are footbridges high above the water, and Harmon has dedicated his life to building bridges them for the villagers, who must think of him in terms of God. A bridge is a simple thing, once you have one. Without it life is a matter of pure chance.

Guadalupe Arizpe De la Vega is an enormously determined woman who operates right in the heart of the drug war where gangs are killing one another in Juarez, Mexico. Guadalupe saw the need for clinics and serves her community in the face of constant danger. She refuses to be cowed by the marauding gangs and she seems to have been sent by God, in the eyes of the people. She is inspired and inspiring.

Evans Wadongo is a young African man who lived firsthand without light in a traditional village where he had to study by kerosene wicks that gay him grave eye problems. So, he figured out how to make solar lamps from cast off materials, and to date he had given away more than 14,000. He is a man who makes and brings light, one of the most precious gifts there can be to a country where people live mostly in the dark.

Narayanan Krishnan feeds the homeless and destitute in India, and he takes care of their other needs like giving them a bath and a haircut. What makes his actions so remarkable is that he is from a privileged class, and the people who he is involved with, to the extent that they are his friends are The Untouchables. He has had to overcome a major taboo in order to even get near them. How can we say, yes, but!

Dan Wallrath is a Texan home builder who is so impressed by what disabled veterans have sacrificed in the name of freedom, that he builds houses for them and their families and turns over the keys to them free of further charge. That’s right, he gives away beautiful, built –with-love houses for free.

Anaradha Koirala is a very petite woman who seems to be frail. This woman is passionate against human trafficking and has the courage of her convictions. She raids brothels; takes young girls off buses that are on their way to promised super jobs that are in reality indentured slavery in whore houses, and she has turned around the lives of more than 12,000 women.

The subject of human trafficking is at the top of the agenda at the moment. It involves the selling of people, which means slavery, something the world thought was the evil past. It is alive and flourishing and needs a whole world of people like this wonderful lady.

Lastly, there was Aki Ra from Cambodia. As a young child the Khmer Rouge killed his parents and put him to work laying mines. He is now a man and has come to realise how evil a thing that was, so he now dedicates his life to clearing the fields of the same mines. With every step he takes he places his life and limbs in harm’s way. He, and his team have now deactivated or blown up more than 50,000 mines. It was for these reasons that I voted for Aki Ra as 2010, Hero of the Year.

Voters disagreed with me and voted for Anaradha Koirala, and they gave her the extra $100,000 to continue with her work. I simply wish that they could have all received an extra $100,000 or more as the things that they are doing are just stupendous.

I still say that the program concept is basically flawed, notwithstanding that it is well presented.

I wish you my readers a Very Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays, and that 2011 will bring you all the very best things in life, including good health as priority number one.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Office Christmas Party

The Office Christmas Party-Nothing happens. Honest!

For twenty years I worked for an international insurance broker that employed about 150 people. Each year preceding Christmas the company held a party to thank the staff for our productivity and to wish us well. For most of those twenty years it was the most stressful time of the year that caused more problems between spouses than was necessary.

Firstly there is the cost of entertaining 150 people at a fairly high-class venue in an expensive place like Bermuda. The cost is staggering and the company has to take a big hit against its bottom line. Secondly, there is the perception of what goes on at the party between work colleagues that worries the spouse left at home. Hollywood has done a wonderful job of suggesting all sorts of funny business that people might get up to. The other spouse never buys the argument about cost, and the whole thing becomes one giant conspiracy.

During my time, especially in the early years my solution was to accept the company’s invitation and stay for the cocktails and dinner, and immediately after I would leave to meet with my partner and go on to another venue. Some people could not even get an agreement with their other halves to do that, so they didn’t attend. That was not politically correct either, and absences were noted.

What did happen at the party? Well, we all got dressed up, and in particular the women went to great lengths to look their very best. For them it was like Oscar night, and I think they saw themselves doing some kind of red carpet walk. The men also generally made a bit of an effort, and when we all met there was much kidding about how well we “cleaned up.”

At first conversation would be a little strained, and old cliques had to be broken up. We were made to sit next to someone we would never associate with during the normal course of working, and that could lead to some interesting discoveries over dinner.

The company had a policy of non-fraternization that discouraged office romances. Generally, if one of these got started one of the people would have to leave. I’m sorry to say it was usually the female. Fortunately it didn’t happen very often.

Following dinner there was dancing. I only stayed around for that a few times, but it was fun. By then the cocktails were working and people began to let their hair down. Before we knew it the end of the night had arrived, and the hardy souls went on to after- hours places. It was possible that some people got laid that night, but if so it never became a matter for office gossip, and there was lots of that the following Monday. The topics centred around how this person or that person dressed, and how wonderful the meal was, but the fact of the matter was that we were all so aware that our behaviour was under the microscope that we behaved like real angels.

Whatever we did that night we would have to live with for the next 12 months, so everyone was on their very best manners. Meanwhile, the other spouse at home were royally pissed off and worrying themselves sick. When the employee got home he/she didn’t dare admit that they had a good time.

Finally, our company gave in to suggestions that these awful problems could be overcome by simply allowing the employee to bring a guest and to pay for that person. The problems went away when the home spouse could see what a tight-ass event it was.

Which all to goes to show that the best laid intentions can always go astray.

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy Office Party.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

El Gordo (The Big One)

El Gordo (The Big One)

If it’s almost Christmas that means that it’s time, once again for El Gordo. This is that wonderful Spanish Lottery the whole world knows about, and it seems plays. The Spanish lotteries are the most wonderful in the world as they are unabashedly socialist. Previously, I didn’t understand the concept, but I did notice that the lotteries are played regularly by a great number of people. There are a number of lotteries that are played weekly, most of them I do not even pretend to understand.

I shall content myself for the moment with El Gordo, which takes place over Christmas.

Firstly, unlike most lotteries this does not pay prizes on a “single winner takes all” basis. This is designed so that as many people as possible can share in the winnings, consequently the socialist angle.

The cost to buy a full single number is 200 euros. However, you would not hold that number exclusively, and unless you knew something the rest of us didn’t, you probably wouldn’t spend that much on one number, when the strategy is usually to collect as many different numbers as possible. So, it is possible to buy only one tenth of a number (un décimo) for twenty euros.

To add further participation, on behalf of The Lottery Commission, charity groups can sell papeletas (little papers, or tickets) for small amounts of money that gives them a commission to help fund their own projects, while at the same time buying a part of a décimo for about 5 euros.

The prizes go from first, at 3,000,000 euros; second at 1,000,000 euros, third at 500,000; fourth prize has two numbers called for 200,000 euros; and fifth prize at 50,000 euros has eight numbers called. There are also 1774 consolation prize numbers of 1,000 euros. These numbers are the formula on which actual winnings are based.

The catch is that if you hold a décimo and your number won on three million euros, that doesn’t mean that you win that amount, nor does it mean that the amount of 3,000,000 euros is all that is paid out. You will win one tenth of three million for every décimo you hold. That’s 300,000 euros for every ticket that is held.

I feared that the more people held my number the less there would be for me to share, but no, my share is fixed regardless of how many others there are.

My syndicate expects to hold 600 décimos this year, and that would bring in 180,000,000 euros to us, that’s right, that’s millions if we win on the first prize, to be divided among each ticket, which in our case would be 3,000 tickets at 60,000 euros per ticket. Many thousands of people would benefit, in fact so many people benefit annually in total from El Gordo I doubt if the number is known. What is known is that El Gordo pays out about 70% of what it takes in, and should this year be like last year, more than 2.5 billion euros will be paid. The remainder goes into the government’s account as a form of passive tax.

It’s a very small wonder that about 98% of all people in Spain will buy into El Gordo, and only God, in His Wisdom can know how many people from the rest of the world will be hoping upon hope that this is the year their number is called.

D-Day, being Draw Day is the morning of December 22nd. Have you ever seen an entire country hold its breath?

(It actually did happen this year here in Spain and in Holland during the football World Cup.)

Now, all that we need to do is win. Wish me good luck! I certainly wish you the best of luck!

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

WikiLeaks !!!!!!

WikiLeaks !!!!!!

THINK FIRST

Heaven help us! What has our world come to?

It started with Mr. Napster who seems to have thought that the creators of intellectual properties, such as song writes, singers and musicians should be happy to use their talents, and pay all that money to record albums just to donate the finished work to the rest of the world free of charge

Now comes WikiLeaks that has been finding and releasing information that really does not belong in the public domain. Proof of that has been the tepid welcome by the public that has largely ignored the information. So, as a real kick up the ass to the public, WikiLeaks has now spilled 250,000 documents, many of which are classified, and that expose the workings and thought processes of the diplomatic world for all and sundry to see.

Granted, an American service person somehow got this information and now seems to be overjoyed that the information is being streamlined to the public. This is just not funny!

We are finding out that our diplomats are human after all, but there is a reason why they present such stony faces and careful language in their negotiations when dealing with one another, but when reporting back to home office it is customary, and probably necessary to be more forthcoming over the impressions and the outcome of their meeting. Now, bloody WikiLeaks has stripped that all away. The long-term effects of what is being openly revealed cannot be even guessed at.

In the political game it may be useful to know what your opposite number thinks of you, or it may be the most hurtful nugget of information to come your way. But, what possible need have I, as an ordinary member of the public, for this information is way beyond my imagination. Sometimes a bit of information truly is a dangerous thing.

For instance: Consider for a moment that you are on a flight that lands on time, thereby allowing you to carry on with your business. Do you really need to know that during the flight something went wrong that the crew dealt with, even though it came perilously close to crashing the plane? What could you have done that was any different to the way in which you had behaved? Nothing! But, you got to where you were going without the stress of knowing what was happening?

It is not correct for world leaders to withhold vital information that society needs and can work with, but WikiLeaks, this time you have been irresponsible and have proved that you are not trustworthy.

Shut the site down forever!

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

Bullying!

Bullying is criminal


This is a very serious matter that has always been understated, and has always been with us. Mainly it is thought of as a young person’s problem and it tends to be fobbed off as "kids will be kids." Lately there has been a rash of teenage suicides due to bullying, therefore it can no longer be ignored.

I recently viewed a programme on Larry King Live that focused on the bullying syndrome. Larry King asked the question: Why do people bully, and what do they get out of it? The answer from his panel was that nobody knew the answer.

Fundamentally, when one person puts another person down it is done for the purpose of enlarging his own image of himself in his own mind. That seems to be the classic definition of racism, prejudice, and discrimination, no matter who is victim and who is perpetrator. In Nazi Germany the Jews were the ones who were the underdog and they paid a terrible cost that allowed the Nazis to believe that they were superior to everybody else. History has certainly confirmed that those “superior” people were only so in terms of the evil that they did.

Bullying in schools has been always a part of the society and it was never funny. It is both unacceptable and ingrained as it is a part of human nature. One step at a time ,bullying, in its various forms are under constant attack and we are seeing success in one sector followed by a rise in unsocial activity in another.

Once women in America could not own land nor vote, but that prejudice was swept away and discrimination against blacks rose to a national level. Grown men were referred to as boys, but now, even if the child is a boy you take your life in your hands if you call him that. As blacks continue on the journey to full respect another group is targeted, and so forth and so on.

This is even practised by countries that went around the world colonizing other nations. Britain once boasted that the sun never set on its colonies. How a country could think that there was anything right with invading another person’s country for the purpose of simply calling it their own completely escapes me.

The aggressor, or bully is never right! This is borne out by the fact that intelligent people will almost always distance themselves from “those people.” In the United States white people didn’t want to be associated with white power supremacists, calling them Rednecks, white trash, and trailer trash. Even within the oppressed groups discrimination is practised against one another. Light skinned blacks are seen to be of more value than a midnight-blue coloured person.

Clearly, at the base of it all is stupidity. The solution is always education. Have I ever suffered with any stupid conceptions about other people? Yes I have. Do I still have any issues to be resolved? Yes I do. At least I have the mechanisms in place to help me through my problems.

Fundamentally, the answer is the same in every case. Whether it is a nationality, a group, a political ideology, sexual orientation, a religion, etc, it is a matter of live and let live. The line is drawn when people start to hurt others to establish their own points of view. That is an intolerable state of affairs that is beyond acceptance. Bullying of any kind falls under this heading and we must appeal to those who are bullies to stop the practise……..or else!


Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Military Family

The Military Family

War, and the military family are topics that have come to the fore in my mind lately. These are such huge subjects they are like standing in front of massive mountains wondering how to climb them. I think I prefer to deal with the human aspect first, the military family.

Who and what is a soldier?
A soldier is a combatant who is on the front line between freedom to live life according to the philosophy of a particular country, and those who would seek to take away those freedoms.

The foregoing description includes both men and women who place themselves in harm’s way, and they are routinely injured, sometimes for life, and they are killed in ever growing numbers. Sometimes harm comes through accidents while not on the arena of battle, but in training or maintenance. The end result is the same, another life lost and another family greatly affected.

War is becoming ever more sophisticated with some fighting being done by soldiers in one country sending over drones to another country to kill. The casualties will be one sided, so if you are on the side with the drones this is good news. The important point is that a soldier’s life is no less valuable than that of a civilian, but that life is subject to far greater peril.

I have been close to a mother whose son was at war in Afghanistan, and every time the telephone rang she would jump. The toll that takes on the folks back home is terrible, and it really is unfair that the general public go about our business getting only soundbites as to what is really going on along the front line. After all, it is being done for our benefit.

One part of that whole terrible drama that receives practically no coverage at all is the family that waits back home. Why a woman would agree to marry a soldier about to be shipped overseas is hard to fathom. I’m very glad that they do because it offers the combatant a scintilla of a real life, but it is always done in the full knowledge that he may not return alive.

The couple frequently will try for pregnancy so that a part of him will live on should he lose his life. We also have mothers going into active war zones and they lose their lives as well, and that for the children they leave behind must be even more difficult to accept.

The military family is a very special unit that outsiders simply cannot understand. Their contribution to the freedom of their nation is as great as that of the combat member who serves in war.

I once was close to a Navy family consisting of a young wife and two children. Her husband, my very good friend asked me to be her best friend while he was away. She treated me as her confidant and she told me bluntly of her pain of not knowing; of expecting any minute of a visit from the Navy with bad news; of her loneliness. She would cry for long periods of time after the children were put to bed and I would just hold her. She would tell me that she wanted sex with her husband so badly it ached, but I couldn’t touch her.

Throughout all those times the thought of she and I having sex never even entered either her mind, nor mine. When he asked me to be her best friend I think that he had such trust in me, or at least in her, that it never even entered his mind that we would betray him. It was a matter of such great moral importance, and the unspoken rule was expected to be upheld; that no spouse with an iota of decency and honour would betray a serving soldier while life was at stake for one’s own sexual gratification. To do so would be considered as treason. On the other hand, if the combatant had an opportunity for sex they would not be blamed for taking it as it might be the last in their life.

When he came home for rest and relaxation she would be so happy to see him, but then her happiness would give way to depression because the end of his leave was in sight and she had to prepare to go through the same thing all over again. Such a rollercoaster experience is really too much for humans to endure. This is all part of the “war is hell” aspect.

Life for the military family is one of service in support of the country, and they deserve the respect and admiration of the nation. Unfortunately the families do not receive medals for enduring, but they should.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael

The Michael Jackson Autopsy Report

The Michael Jackson Autopsy Report

The United States is a country that believes in the freedom of information, when it suits it, but sometimes I think that freedom is carried way too far. If you are interested in The Michael Jackson Autopsy Report, all that you have to do is Google it, and you will get all twenty-three pages in detail.

What possible need do we, members of the general public have to this information? We will learn that he died as a partial result of propofol, a powerful drug that is usually used in producing general anaesthesia under very controlled circumstances. It is not for use in the case of simple insomnia. We will learn that anyway when the trial of the attending doctor is held. We already know that something went horribly wrong that led to his death. We also learn that Michael was practically bald, but we kind of guessed that he was wearing a wig for some reason.

We also learn that he was uncircumcised, presumably something that most people will find earth shattering. Or will they? Most importantly, we learn that Michael Jackson was suffering from the disease of Vitiligo that leads to the loss of skin pigmentation. He told us that himself but we didn’t want to believe it. Instead we wanted to believe that he hated being black, and so he took steps to bleach himself.

Few of the media reporting on this fact gave it any prominence, nor did they give him any redemption.

It seems to me that releasing this record is all about pandering to the public’s idle curiosity. We learn the above noted facts, and we shrug our shoulders and go about our business. It means nothing to us, except that the man’s privacy is further violated when he is in no condition to do anything about it. This seems all wrong to me. I feel that the autopsy report is none of the public’s damn business.

What does mean something to me is the whole process of an autopsy. I understand that no one can sit through one of these procedures for the first time as a witness without feeling very sick, throwing up or fainting, or all of the above. I suppose for the people who perform the procedures it must become routine, but the steps are very graphic.

The professionals who prepare our meat undertake similar processes in cutting through skin and bone and sorting the parts of what was once a living creature, but we are talking about a person who was once an energetic and talented individual. However, for the purposes of the autopsy all that must be set aside and the subject is treated as simply a body that is there to be examined in depth.

It is disturbing for me to picture in my mind’s eye any dead person having the top of his skull taken off and his brain lifted out and placed in a bowl. Then we see a Y cut being made on the chest area extending all the way down to the genitals. One by one all our working parts are disassembled and taken out of our body to be thoroughly examined and weighed. Perhaps they will be placed back in the body cavity to be buried, or they may simply be taken off to be burned in the furnace. I know that the autopsy can be a very necessary step, but dignified it is not.

After we have lived our lives to the full, and the end comes the least we can hope for is death with dignity. That also pertains to the “after death” part as well.

Copyright © 2010 Eugene Carmichael