TO EXPRESS BEAUTY AND EMOTION ?

We communicate and express beautiful things in many ways. We use words for this quite often. But that awful " Wow"is too soapy and obvious like an American Comedy. The word "Gay" used to be wonderfully colourful and playful until it was hijacked by political correctness organisations. 1960s people may remember "Super" and best to forget words like that too methinks. But what word remains evocative and expressive of some beautiful moments of being and with life itself?

For me I have always had a soft spot for " Enchantment " or enchanting, etc. Yes, I think that remains a good word.
Certain to be more "out there" so throw them around if you will.

HAVE FAITH IN THE BOURSE

The biggest religion in town, capitalism, demands faith in that godly mess of abstracts built upon abstracts built upon abstracts. In common language that means living in risk built upon risk buily upon risk. Faith is all there is left. When crisis is normal then pray. But it will show itself as a real risk when pensions and wellbeing for a majority are in this game that only the rich can ever play in relative safety. What a farce.
Shame that school and college education teaches this faith-system as natural. Better to change those curricula methinks and place capitalist miseconomics and religious faith into the same "optional extra" category.

Let us take back the participative responsibility for OUR State of being.

THE BELL CURVE : LOAD OF BALLS UNDER A PENIS.

The Bell Curve is used by many to justify their ideological beliefs. Now that is a fair way to begin this.
Today I lecture sometimes but today I care little for the fancy games of academia built upon a kind of factory system and bums on seats numbers games.
So recently I lectured around the bell curve with the intention of helping students to remember and think.
I said that the bell curve is really two balls sitting under a penis. Such is normal for male writers of theory.
Now sit down and think hard upon that me hearties.

A MAZE OF MISTY ISLANDS

When I feel a little down and out and suffer a bad air day I might do one of two things. My choice is usually attached to a fairly ruthless reflection upon my condition and the world. For example if I sense i am sick and going down with a kind of flu or cold I will take a cold water salt water swim in the sea and follow that up with a bum-burning curry. Anyway such has been my habit in the past and no bad habit either. But if the bad air day is more existential and pathetic I usually get myself back to something with the outdoor world. With this in mind I re-publish a little bit from one of my past books simply because I want to and will. Maybe you like it maybe you don't. Here goes :-

" The early morning two o'clock sky was silent. T slept and W too. K and I left. The canoes slipped silently into the sleeping waters causing small wake-up waves to ripple, which could, we imagine, cause some furry ears to twitch by the lakeside or a twist or two of owls' necks somewhere above. The silence remained and we went out to explore a maze of islands in the early morning mist.
The everyday world is brushed aside and the remaining twilight allows discovery as dark habit dissolves itself in the new defining light. "

Bits AND PIECES

So much going on some say and such must be organised. The movement must be ordered by those that did not set it up ! MYSPACE must go to adults. YOUTUBE to business. AWKS to experts of persuasion. But history often repeats itself as tragedy. This tragedy is life itself at work quite often. Reminded, I am, of a piece of writing :-

" Though in the first half of the century there was deep ( and not wholly idle ) apprehension that making the lower ranks of society literate would breed all sorts of disorder and debauchery, in the long run the prolification of reading matter proved to have been the oil that was needed to quiet the troubled waters .... The comparative tranquility of Victorian society after the mid-century was due in no small part to the growth of the popular press. "

But when tragedy turns into farce .....

BREAKING WIND E-NEWS

The new Breast Actress of the Year Award has begun. During the Oscar gala this year it has been revealed that a test case was held for the "Breast Actress of the Year". This first trial event, held as an extra attraction with a private audience and panel, used the past films from lolliwood as working material. It is not yet possible to identify the panel or participants but Zola has been informed that the winner was Raquel Welch for her up front role in the film " One Million Years B.C. ". The runner up, for her role in the blockbusting film Dr No, was Ursala Undress.
We hear that this result is up for appeal and the organisers advise us to "Google" for the latest updates.

Something XSerious ( by popular demand )

Too much politics and stuff? OK. Zola is not home enough! OK. More quizes more pisses more heartbreaks in the rain more standing alone with the one I love. OK. Get this on yer mojo. The music folk want more. Check on this :-
" So that's why I'm here, the bleeding boat drifted off and I'm stuck here in the pissing rain with my life flashing before me. Only it isn't flashing, it's crawling. Slowly .... A tough guy, a helpless dancer.
A romantic, is it me for a moment ..... "
If that does not get you going then just mix it with :-
" I think I'm going back to the days when I was young enough to know the truth."

Then another lyric and a song line for the serious :-

" As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for - but we fight for roses too ! "

How might one measure such songs with a still Sun shining from above?

For Whom Does This Bell Toll ?

Picked up another piece of nasty propaganda. The printed words in a respectable newspaper went like this :-

" We must constantly encourage competition not simply because it is the best safegaurd for the consumer but because if competion dies away so the spirit of pride and endeavour will die with it. Then we must change the tax system which at present bears so heavily upon success, particularly individual success.
Finally, there must be penalties too, because the spirit we require to see will not be fully forthcoming unless we ally a proper regard for success with a proper acceptance of the consequences of failure. "

This crap was printed in, like I said before, a respectable newspaper.
I wonder which person wrote this.
Any ideas from your own neck of the woods?
Comments Are Free. ( but don't let that fool you !)

I PACKED MY BAG BACK TO SILLINESS ( especially for Awks)

Some years ago there was a game played by many silly people. It was called " I Packed My Bag " . The ideas and the rules were simple. It was fun. First you say that " I packed my bag and in it I put a .......". Then others continue. That until the bag gets full of silly things or so full of naughty things that the customs inspectors show interest.

So--- the rules.
We begin with A and end with Z.
We must repeat that which went before.
We must not be too rude.
When the Z endgame is reached the powerful Zola will decide the winner in his normal democratic way.

So I THE democratic Zola begins thus :-

I packed my bag and in it I put an Anticant with a pink leather tie.

IN PRAISE OF AN OLD FASHIONED LEFTIE

Noam Chomsky was born in 1928 and born into the awful depressions of yet another mis-economy. Most suffered again and again as the majestic few profited again and again. ( Sorry Bob the times have not changed at all ! ) Chomsky is a also a Janus faced being. He is a fairly formal professor not given to dancing with the romance of the soul and preferring reasonable historical knowledge through disciplined traditions. Yet Chomsky is also a soul that demands the Romance of human being in search of a better future. Chomsky is the voice that politicians and business leaders work so hard to suppress and distort. His recent book " Power and Terror " was given to me recently by a kindred spirit after a spell in Canada. Some snippits :-

" Another interesting thing about the Vietnam war is we have no idea what the costs were to the Vietnamese. I mean, for the United States, we know down to the last person. And the big postwar issue is finding the bones of American pilots. But nobody has any idea how manyVietnamese died or are still dying, for that matter. The guesses literally vary within millions. Because, who cares, you don't consider it when you slaughter other people. " ( page 27 )

" Everyone's worried about stopping terrorism. Well, there's a real easy way : STOP PARTICIPATING IN IT. " ( page 141 ).

Maybe a few bells ring here for many. For sure such bells ring not for those in power today and this includes the Arms Industry and the Culture Industry etc, etc.

Chomsky is labelled as a bad leftie by so many that many believe that. But really this Noam Chomsky is an old fashioned activist liberal as a floating intellectual.
But he was born in 1928 !!!
Who will continue this tradition after being born in the 1970s or after?

Der Spiegel doth tempt but .....

Who supports killers? Few I say. But to label killers or the like as "Left Wing" is absurd unless one is totally "Right-Wing" of course. Such is Der Spiegel today on-line.
It gets better or worse ......
Reading this site from the "left" side we read " Growing a Brain is Switzerland. "
Then .....
Reading the same page from the "right" we read : " Find the love of your life. Our unique psychometric personality test will help you find your perfect match. "

When do we put the clocks back to christmas i ask.

GOLDEN OLDIE ONE-LINERS

Some of my favourites are :-
" I once had a girl or should I say she once had me. "

" How is Worcestershire, is it still the same between us, do you still use television to send you fast asleeep, does the systern still leak, oh and bye the way, how's your broken heart. " ( It was one line, really ..... anyway that is more difficult to googgle )

" Will you make us laugh, will you make us cry, will you tell us when to live will you tell us when to die? "

The catch : To post a reply and comment and an extra ditty you must first give the names of the singers that were the originals to sing those lines above. And then this system carries on. Discipline me hearties.

Anticant must not use songs from the 1890s - end of rules

PRIVATISE PENAL PANOPTICANS

The poor Great Britain wants to privatise that which it criminalises. That would be an end to crime and punishment. To privatise the penal pursits of goal achieving would end up with more vending machines selling more pop fizz and crack(ers). A happy place that would be and fit for the heroes of the Blatcheright quest.
- No shortage of quick booze for VIPs
- No shortage of cigars for VIPs
etc.
Hell many of the present UK-USA governemnt types might prefer "time".

Some Singer Song Writers OK

" I know a lot of fancy dancers, people who can glide you on a floor, they move so smooth but have no answers, wo.
When you ask them : What do you come here for? I don't know. Why?
I know many fine feathered friends , but their friendliness depends on how you do.
They know many sure fired ways, to find out the one who pays, and how you do. "

Old fashioned?
I am a dedicated follower of old fashion maybe.

MORE PRISONS ?

After being away from news for a little time I am thrown back into history.

The UK wants to build more prisons to solve their image problem.

Bed and Breakfast anyone ?

EXTREME EXPERIENCES : Good for you ?

Extreme experience may well be good sometimes. Maybe. Not always. There are, I think other ways too. Other ways to get pricked and nicked and kicked.
Anyway this ole Zola has been stablised. That is stablised on the limit zone.
The mind boggles.
Cigs are out! Full stop. Whisky only in moderation. But wild wild women are Ok as it is deemed good for me health.
They tried to get me to take up "Nordic Walking" with those silly sticks. But no fun there and in the end wild wild women were accepted as a natural medicine.
One has to argue the case.

Zola gets into Vanity Publishing - Preparing for next Hospital visit. Anyway the government sent me a memo : keep those Awks busy and off the streets it said.



The Elemental - Nocturnal Prolongations - My Dear Leino

To take a slow walk by the great Oulu lake-sea-sides, near Kajaani, in a summertime holiday mood, is to gently drift with the thickly, moving, impressions of a poetic place,thick and thin and full,with tradition. Eino Leino springs to mind here as being a still sprightly spirit of Paltaniemi. A solid sense of impishness is at play in this small hamlet with this peon pen that provoked the dance of life and death. His poetry still inspires some young Finns and old alike. He is dead and gone - he has joined, his own words, the - "scrubs of the deceased" - but, yet still so moving, he remains a bohemian as his texts continue to tip-toe through summer-nights and romances and us all. We the most unlikely ones. We the petty "will-o-wisp vanities" personified, glorified, to the point of extortion and unbelief. We the latest lost generation seeking to be big idols and yet refusing idealism. We, the latest example of that slave-trade culture of a mere risk and culture industry-for-itself. With such cultural bagage I walked gently into that good summer night with Eino Leino and he told me a little something as a gift-like happening.

First he "wispered" warmly the words : " Do as I do, beam like me and give blissful givings to the singer." He willed-me-to-power, that is. So as this wise old poet crept up upon me I dreamed my way into a kindred appreciation with such words, indeed.I replied to him as best I could in a summer-night-fever of intensity. I do follow his advice and I reply as I build as I labour with that kind of love which springs, naturally, with an Eino Leino poem. "Nocturne" (1905) is a good example - and I said to myself, at the time, god-damit, I will give this a bash. I would try and excel at the useless too. I was on a holiday ( my symbolic-freetime?) so all was up for grabs. So I tried a little something. A re-write of that Eino Leino poem. I tried to hang onto a dream. He lived as a collective unconscious meandering, spiriting, through and with the free-floating fields of vision as an elemental elf at play. Leino impelled me thus into experience. I was enthused to speak with worded worlds that denied not the speaking. Leino impelled me into an impish musical adventure. Leino helped me beat the city-devils and their sylvan satan.

Nocturnal Prolongations

Evening song; in my ear, corncrake calling, singing, under floodlights; Staged by a full moon.
Straw stooks standing, upright, swelling; as fodder-fields, landscapes; As my mind.

My summer night with so many warm hearts beating - yes.
Elemental My dear Leino.

Wood-smoked valleys appearing, drifting, as distance becomes, Alive, as time, as place, flies by.
As lakeside-fields fuse into twilights of peopled-times,
Fused by peopled-places alive now here and well.

I am not overjoyed ( romantic I am not) but yet neither am I so over sorrowed ( fatalistic I am not) to have followed this way where dark, still, woods still serve my own, full well, though veiled with the shifting moving shadows that beckon the new returning day which is always before and beyond just now.

Cumulus clouds, berries, blossom a yellow-red ending of a day, falling, sleepy-sometimes-all-times-well.
With shadows on the water-ways, streaming unto stillness, slowly, with the rested wind.
A little resting now yet still restless.
A Being as Being unto death which has no dominion.

Through blue-grey hills by blooming meadows,
Smelling, faintly strong,
A summer night edures, endears.
Out, within, those warm wild beginnings hearts hone well,
An end-home in the big song and I.

Why?
Why the melody?
Dark forest fevers, shadowy lake-sides, dusk time-settings?
Musical Adventures?
Serenity?
Why dance?
Because!! I believe, I feel, I am simply with.
I AM-with.
Elemental my dear Leino.

Because the proud leave only mere shadows of separations.
Because good young butterfly dreams waft along with life.

Why???

Why translucence, meek blue-greys and hills, beckon, alongside, faint fragrances,flowers, meadows, so strong in faintness?
And why, as the corncrake croaks and as the corn stooks stand, by,
Some sounds of music, as a crex-crex, are hard, brittle and warm?

Elemental my dear Leino.
The before and the beyond, as nocturnal prolongation.
We belong, just here and there and all,
Without possession, within.
Betwixt and between,
Dionysus dancing with Apollonian harmonies.
The wine is there to give life to the ordering,
Of things, just so, My dear.

But the primrose path is but a poor beauty without the wines of dandelions. The puff-balls frolic with the wind but such a flight of fancy is rooted. Youthful travels are but seeds branching out with their past-within. Betwixt and between, destiny, alive and freedom well. The wherewithall flourishes, seriously, at play.


Song? I sing, with,
That song which is no slave.
Songs not possessed.
That which cannot be owned and sold is sung.

My dear Leino, I have followed your advice.
We do not own our words unless we are to be slaves.
You never wanted us, sentenced, worded, slaved in prisons.
We cannot make poetics before and beyond the executions.

My dear Leino, aristocrat, expert of the useless,
Rose-bush-thorn,
Thou art master of intrigue with good reason-to-be.
You embrace, you travel-with,
Differences,
Far away to the centre.
Away from deathly indifference,
However.
Into moral metaphysical guilt.
But far, far, away from hubris.
Away from feigned fickle fancy.
You are a variable rainbow of delight where a wet sun smiles again.
As we wake with each new exotic morning,
To be a Diff-Errant.


My evening sings a deep serenity, faithful, as a summer hay-sweet male-maid-end song, singing no fatherland-motherland fickle feat.
I believe as, musical melancholy, an adventure glows and ... ,
Swells, ever fresh and green, in a still, strong and yet still soft, voice with-in.
The labours of love, an oak-leafed garland, thrives, translucent-true,
Displays,
The green and brown and blue and the white and ...

I will no longer chase the will-o-wisp vanities,
I find my home, here, my Being, here, elemental.
I will no longer be blown by the fake cold winds of war.
I leave behind me now, Idols, the culture industry, the fickle, The fickle image, cash nexus all.

I throw my little stones into warm still waters and watch and learn.
Concentric circles move with my imagination, bounced, back,
From The rocks.
All eccentricity is moved to shallow waters, as always,
Weather-cocks, are always, dead-asleep, as they spin around,
And around.
In dreams we spin a tale or two as the harsh and cackled crex-crex, eternally returns and ...
The crex-crex, corncrake, straw stooks standing, pave a path,
Before and beyond and ...
With those good intentions turning.
Philosophy in a nutshell my dear Leino.

Time is resting, well, now, with me and my own.
What is before returns, as I move, beyond peradventure again.
Eino - you have travelled yet again and I, for another, feel OK.
Why? Because we move even when we peer out, from a small window,
A sauna, box,
Screen.
Your view.
Elemental my dear Leino.


********************

My reply with Eino Leino might be but an impish reply from a bohemian "Jack-O'-Lantern". Indeed I have no claims to the "A.B.C" of expertise. But may I say here that Eino Leino tempted me into an "unknown room" and I felt like singing too. Perhaps I had no choice in the matter - I do not know. But I do care. If I have stolen gold from the devil up high I will be, no doubt, brought to new order. The good bohemian Leino would well forgive my virgin-adventures into and with the unknown. Fate is, I guess, always much more than we merely think it is !!!

Note : Eino Leino ( 1878-1928) is considered to be one of the Finnish poets that remains significant in the national identity stakes. His poem "Nocture" was first published 100 years ago, in 1905, in the book "Talvi-Yö". Today with this anniversary year in mind it does no harm to show some humble respect. The recent death of the philosopher Emmanuel Levinas ( famous for his infinity of the infinity theme with the elemental) is also significant here in my attempt to allow the self-same happenings to find re-creation(al) displays. The professional philosopher, however, might find my interpretations to be a little to impish but such is the price we pay today for such summer-night frolics and jolly jaunts with the most necessary wild-side. Maybe Leino was a little child-like at times and maybe I write as I pick the petals and say "the philosophers like it ; the philsophers don't, the poets like it ; the poets don't ....". Maybe I write to publish thinking that Eino Leino might well like.

( END )

HAVE YOU EVER HAD ?

A good boss? Is there such a "thing"?

WHAT WOULD YOU DO ?

Big editor calls you to the big building. No excuses available. Must attend. Meeting called for 14.00 hours so it cannot be important - can it? Nobody makes important decisions at 14.00 hours. Ah, but I am not important maybe! Shiiihitt. What to do? Who knows.

I walked into the big building and pretended not to notice that all eyes were upon me. I made straight for the coffee machine ( disgusting stuff but safe from intrigue ) and then simply sat down with the table talk. Had one of those loco politicos nicked me? Had I made, yet again, too many digits and too many words? Was I discontented? Had I been unwell once too often?

Damn it will they throw me into the internet sections? Has my rhytin bin sin bad?

But a big lion somehow recognised me. Gave me a new chance I guess. One can never tell with precision can one ! Fuck me this Lion is big. Best behave I thought.

Anyway survived a new day. Clap hands here comes Charlie, roll up, roll up, Charlie on the bang bangs. Win a coco-nut if you will ...... every smile a winner ... such is a Sgt Pepper played out of time.
Yeeee..haaah still alive and kicking.

HIDDEN MEANINGS AS A GIFT?

Celebrating a birthday is always good until the carnival is really joking. At a birthday party one expects gifts and a little merriment. One puts up with deviant behaviour. But to be thrown to the truth is quite another matter. At a recent birthday party my eyes lit up as guests came like a Christmas past and future. ( wonderful friends in fact). They almost danced into our house with a wicked smile. Run or suffer ? I asked myself in seconds.

Anyway. I was given an "Action Man Figure" for me birthday. As I opened up the package I knew all was not well because there were too many smiles. But open it I did.

Out popped SIGMUND FREUD ( action figure) with many quotes from the infamous man. Yes, a for-real plastic Freud with grey beard an all. His arms and legs move and his neck twists a bit too. It said, on the package, that " not suitable for children under the age of 3 years ". Was there a message here?

Anyway as I went to fill my glass a voice bellowed : "Read the back of the package". I had no choice if I was to be in any way polite. I read out :-

" In popular language we may say that ego stands for reason and sanity, in contrast to the id which contains untamed passions."

" Everywhere I go, I find the poet has been there before me. "

" Despite my 30 years of research into the feminine soul, I have not yet been able to answer the great question that has never been answered : What does a woman want ? "

Hidden birthday messages?
Ah dunno but off to pub and sauna I am.
To reflect upon me arty-farty bits in peace .....and plan for a return gift.......

BREAKING WIND E-NEWS

A well known politician of the highest rank taste has been helped by old Oxford chums. After an interview people were so amazed that this rank politician had failed to keep a diary that their help poured in. Apparently friends and supporters ( the numbers remain a mystery) wanted to help because the rank politician in question will need the money from memoirs and book sales due to sure unemployment on the near horizon. So various helping hands submitted documents written by this non-diary-keeper. It is early days yet to give a general summary or even to paraphrase the contents sent in but two examples may suffice to keep the book publishers happy.

From a letter to an Oxford hero written by the rank politician :-
" I well understand that I could never replace you or your wonderful work for our country. Even if we studied at the same university my status will never equal yours. Indeed I follow you in ignoring all this equality propaganda and this because I follow you in the vision of our truly Great traditions of Britain. I have been thinking that the best place for future work is for those that really need this tradition and our vision. If I am still a little wet for your good company I may serve and strive to bring into line those opposing forces of evil. I am sure, if I succeed in this quest, I will justly receive payment by results in the future both on earth and in heaven. ....... I will not yield."

From a somewhat difficult to read letter - some words are impossible to read - we also find that : " The band has not taken off and I feel the need to change ways. I cannot seem to live up the the demands of my family and education. I am not artistic. But I can sell second hand cars and deal a fairly good hand to myself in other ways. I am thinking of going into politics. Any party is fine for me so long as it has an opening. Yes I think it will be politics. My poor degree will not get me far and my music career seems to be already dead before it really began. I will mix the law with politics and buy my ticket that way ........ anyway politics is theatre anyway in it not?"

Due to legal issues and newspaper ethics the above words are provisional and the persons involved must remain fiction. Zola would not want to be called a B-Liar! The above might be just ugly rumours.

THE JOYS OF HEX IN THE HOSPITAL

It went like this :-
Big nurse, " Morning Zola good to see you again ( as Zola withers). We hear that you are fond, still, of cigs and whisky and wild wild women."
Zola, " Morning Nurse. I'm not sure where you heard that from. Gossip is everywhere today. I have been keeping to doctor demands and his orders believe me.
Big nurse, speaking with an accent akin to a cross between Russian and Scottish and all mixed with Fingelski and with the lung capacity of two bagpipes playing : " Zola we are going to help you help yourself ...... AND stand to attention when I yell at you.!"

Zola withers more and seeks the escape route but too difficult as he is attached to nasty things.

Zola ; " I want me mum !"
Big Nurse : " I am your mother now. Stand to attention would you!"
Zola : " I am standing to attention ( feeling a feel droopy and sorry)
Big Nurse : " I have just the thing for you. ME !"

The quick end of this painful story is twofold.
First I am back ( cannot keep a good Zola down as they say)
Second after a two day recovery I have made a plan for next week when I must return to that department of helping me to help myself.

GRUMPY TODAY? MAYBE. IF SO I WILL WRITE POLITICS, if not .....

Great news from both Yellow Duck and Szwagiman. Same from Anticant. Alas this poor site master is charged with another hospital day with those damned machines and nasty needles. Whenever I attend these events one old grannie nurse seems to smile and get me in her wicked hands. Maybe me luck changes today. Maybe she is sick.
Orders from hospital were inhuman and quite unreasonable. No cigarettes, whisky or wild wild women for 36 hours before the tests. I said " You lot have two chances. Slim and fu.k all". The doctor frowned at me. I guess it is that doctor who orders me that old grannie nurse.
Anyway if all goes well back soon for some light-heavy humour or politics.

IT'S WINDSDAY : ETIQUETTE IS BLOWN TO NETTIQETTE

Etiquette has long been an excuse for conventional cover-ups. Indeed it has been one of the most subtle and covert ways to blame and shame those "others" that are impure and dirty and out of place. It has been a social weapon of mass destruction. "English manners and politeness" has so often been seen as bullshit by those left with a thinking mind or a feeling heart. But there is nothing bad around without a bit of good in it as any Modern mind knows today. The internet folk way ( that dirty, wild and wicked space) struggles today to find its own "conventional ways" of communication.

Therefore we find the term "Nettiqette" arising out of the depths of the stormy seas and we find bloggers and beasts and freaks and frogs and trolls and dolls all trying to say and do the right thing according to this or ( this and?) that dead convention.

Is this necrophilia?

SAMI or what the Whites labelled as LAPPS

Today is a special day for Sami folk. The Sami have their own national day in the Nordic regions. The trouble is so few really care. Sami folk, the Lapps in English language and colonialism language, celebrate today 90 years of struggle against colonialism. The term Lapp is associated with "outcast" and this term gives away the main game. Long live the outcasts I say.
The main problem for European Union, United Nations and Nordic politics is to come to grips with one of the main differences between traditional Sami ways and capitalism ways based upon private ownership . Sami have no land ownership by tradition. This hurts those that build up their politics around a basic assumption that everything is owned by somebody somewhere somehow.
So what the Finnish government "gives" the Sami folk is a kind of nice cultural face and package. The Finnish parliament : " required that in the name of cultural autonomy the linguistic and cultural rights of the Sami should be safeguarded to a sufficient degree. " ( Parliamentary statement October 1st 1993)

Who and what defines this "sufficient degree"? Ownership groups and capital and the politics that assumes this way to be god-like and beyond critique or reason.

BRASS MONKEYS DAY FOR ZOLA

After a fairly warm and strange winter we are faced today with minus 32 degrees centigrade and that wood fire must be really fired up. The testicles of Zola, usually in good order and of respectable size, are withering if not totally imploding into the state of nothingless. So it must be a sympathy day today.

BACK TO THE UK , BACK TO THE UK WE ARE ....

As so many self-right Euro bods cry out for less children at war and for less kids on the streets with guns for "a cause". As so many EU bods feel "good enough" to critique the kids of otherlands - it is time to say a straight sane and a sad word or two.

The UK has "under-age" military just as they did in the early 1900s and before and after. Kids under 18 are pratting around in Iraq under the British flag. When has it ever been different I ask? When!!!! Never I say.

The wars have always been either slave labour or "happy youth" to continue.

What the hell has changed I ask !!!
Please do not give me British morality or any other that does the same trick and treat.
When I went to school some BOYS were off the war at 14 years of age. Things have not really changed that much.
Political gurus do not go to war or fight in a boxing ring.
Nothing much as changed.

Mr Bliar-Bushy-and all --- Monty P will win in the end even if I have no legs to stand on.

Damn it did I write that ?

WHEN A CACTUS LOSES FLOWERS AND PRICKS AND KICKS

The left in Europe has withered. Few flowers blossom on the cactus that pricks and kicks and yet still survives even in the deserts of dry arid correctness schemes. But now Zola has consulted expert gardening advice. At last a few things make sense.
The main problem with this health of the necessary cactus is the problem of watering. Too much or too little or both. If a cactus is over 20 years old the BASE needs radical change. The roots need cutting. The first thing to look out for is "brown or spongy bits" and get them cut off quickly. Then re-bedding or re-potting is needed. But take care here because the new base must be able to absord the drink slowly to avoid fast-time and overly wet and potty consequences.
Where have all the Cacti gone? Gone to brown and spongy ways everyone. When will they ever learn ....

The NEW SPIN of Bliarism sinking

As Turd Way Bliar keeps building his bunker it is reported that his spin doctor group have been discussing the use of philosophical wisdom in the vain attempt to survive at any cost. One memo has been leaked.
Included in that memo was " We feel and know that we are eternal " ( Spinoza).
Newt Labour here to stay forever.
Many Scottish folk have written to George Brown asking for a response. So far the only comment from the Brown machine is this : " We are considering this "We" "
All this wee-wee seems to be just taking the piss methinks. But there we have it and there it is with this potty lot.

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO OMO and COKE?

Over the last 40 odd years we have suffered various advertising wars. First we may remember the battle between OMO and DAZ ( both washing powder powers) and more recently the Coca Cola versus Pepsi Cola wars. But today we are released from such sufferings as we are all clearly whiter than white and enjoying life. Holy shit we are all aristocrats now !!!

ANTICANT IN RETIREMENT ? WE HOPE NOT and doubt it.

Anticant, our resident storyteller par excellence, seeks retirement from blogging. If this is to be the case then Zola will take his 20th nervous breakdown.
On retirement it is usual and correct to pay tributes. But i suspect it is too soon to pay tribute as i suspect the lyrical and reasonable Anticant remains with spirit and fuel to enchant and edutain.
To pay a tribute right now to Anticant would be an insult.
There is lead in that old pencil yet!!! Giggle, giggle.

CAREERIST POLITICIANS : A SORRY STATE

Careerist politicians stink but all too often they come out smelling of roses as if the sun shines out from their nether regions. It would be banal to talk here of Bush and Bliar and it would be like yet another penetrating glimpse into the obvious. In Finland we now hear that one ultra-right "True Finn" ( failed boxer, macho-man, woman beater and headbanger into drug scenes?) Tony Halme has been granted a State pension after doing nothing except getting voted into parliament by other blue blooded true Finns. It disgusts me. But he laughs his way to the bank as another thousand people lose their jobs in the failing Nokia Land.

Recently a federal judge in the USA attacked the Bush regime of private greed and gain. He ended up his verdict with these words : " There was a time when people came to Washington because they thought that government could be helpful to people." But today, said judge Paul Friedman, people come to Washington to see what government can do for them !!!

J'Accuse.