Bread and Circuses

To these political activists who want to put their case by slagging the 'opposite' side, I have a message for you. Would you try to convince a drunk at a party to vote for you? So why insist on trying to change the mind of the convinced, when there are so many floating voters out there - like me - who are open to suggestion, waiting to be convinced?

I enjoyed a bit of Brian-baiting as much as the next person, but frankly, it's starting to irritate. The focus has shifted, but the baiting continues, and is engaged in by everybody, it seems to me. We now have Me-hole Martin, Where-is-Enda Kenny, Moan Burton, John Gormless, and Baron Adams. I must say though, that the jibes at Sinn Féin are more bitter - references to Bank withdrawals, etc. may sting all the more because of relatively recent history, but for what purpose?

"Absentem laedit cum ebrio qui litigat"
Brian Cowen - Footnote in History, please take note

I still think that there is a sleight of hand afoot, so to speak. We are being entertained to 'the greatest show in Ireland' with this General Election, while the serious business of policy is more of a side-show. Policies regarding Health Care, Social Protection, Enterprise Development, and of course, the ones we have all become familiar - not to say experts in - within such a short time - The Deficit, Sovereign Debt, Burning Bondholders, et al.

We should live in a community, not an economy, as a man from Bartlemy I believe it was, once said. Manque de peau, here we are, in a failing economy, with windbags of all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds, telling us how they'll solve these problems. I know they won't. Maybe it would be better if they did less - efficient politicians are even more frightening than the inept.

I feel for Elaine Byrne - with the people who nearly took the plunge. I honestly believe though, that the talents of the likes of Fintan O'Toole, David McWilliams, etc. would be better used as commentators and advisors. Look at George Lee - what a sad loss to us all THAT was. Is it possible that in 10 or 20 years time, there'll be a younger version of one of Somerville or Ross (they are beautifully co-ordinated names, in fairness, aren't they) will be out on the hustings saying something like: "Dun Laoire Rathdown is a Ross Seat".

We are, unfortunately and fortunately, a tribal nation. Look at us. We have Fianna Fáil - the Soldiers of Destiny, and Fine Gael - The Tribe of the Gaedhal, since the 1920's. We shouldn't forget that a Taoiseach was an ancient tribal chieftain, and a Tánaiste was his heir apparent, or the person appointed where a chieftain had been deposed. We still retain that tribal attitude to our representatives, each constituency is a minor kingdom. This explains so many of the good things about ourselves, our sense of community, belonging to a place - as exemplfied by the GAA, This also explains why people will vote for 'their local man'. Shur, isn't he one of our own. We heard them on Pot Kennay's show lately - from Tipperary.

The thing is, they're not really one of our own, other than when the call comes every few years or so. hey've been seduced by the big Gathering, the Dáil, where they play on the senior team, God help them.

So we have neither fish nor fowl nor good red herring - other than the red herrings that Jim Higgins talked about - the ones that the Fianna Fáil / Green Party Government has been 'throwing at white elephants' over the last few years.

God help us.

Grieving for 'da boooom'?

What stage are we at as far as the grief for our lovely and ever-so-defunct (ka)boooooom? I looked up the 7 stages. According to one source, they are:
1. Shock and Denial
2. Pain and Guilt
3. Anger and Bargaining
4. Depression/Reflection/Loneliness
5. The Upward Turn
6. Reconstruction and Working Through
7. Acceptance and Hope

I wish these stooopid politicians would STFU and leave us grieve at our own pace, for heavens sake. They keep on mixing the messages - once minute feigning shock, the next trying to tell us that reconstruction is immanent. Yah-right!

I've had my fill of them - all of them.

Anyone for participitative democracy - anyone? Anyone at all?

Brian O'Driscoll for President !

Oh yes!
I think Brian O'Driscoll would make a great President.
He has the capacity to lead, with a disarming and honest face, and the twinkle in the eye is is bright as David Norris' for a start!
Oh yes, I'd vote for him in a nanosecond - but maybe he has better things to do.

Here's a conundrum.
When commentators talk about rugby, there's a phrase that's often overused:
'they lay their bodies on the line for the team'.
As a nation, we can produce sports people of the calibre of Brian O'Driscoll, Ronan O'Gara, Paul O'Connell, John Hayes... the young turks, Bowe, Heaslip, the list goes on. And that's just the rugby. There are stars of equal stature in Hurling, Football, Horseracing, Athletics, etc. Hurling is a magnificent game. I love that unique mixture of balletic athleticism, lightening speed and the precision of a poet. But for pure passion, give me rugby...
It's the one sport I follow.

As a small child, I remember sitting beside my father to look at matches. It's strange, looking back. We lived in a GAA heartland; my brothers all played Gaelic football; and my father zealously followed the Cork team through good years and bad. My dad was the mildest of men. Many said he was too mild for his own good. Except when it came to rugby.

My memories are filled with grainy black-and-white pictures together with strikingly colourful language from the normally calm, sombre man beside me. And this was in the era of the ban, remember! He would swear and grumble, curse the damned Welsh, call down the Ides of March, call the Scots and Sassanaigh all the names under the sun, plus some that never will see the sun. He idolised Jack Kyle, Mike Gibson, Willie John McBride. They were his heros, and he, of course, was mine - so maybe they became my heros by proxy. Whatever the reason, I still love the honesty of effort, stepping up to the mark with nowhere to hide, the craic of the third half, the brotherliness. A glimpse into an utterly male domain.

Though he died in 1983, last year, during the 6 Nations, I felt my Dad beside me as I sat on my sofa. We bobbed and weaved, we pulled, we pushed, we felt every tackle, we breathed so deep in an effort to will them the strength to go another inch, and another inch. And together we inched our way, all the way to the Grand Slam. Oh, how he would have gloried in it.

They gave every ounce they had for each other.
The trust in each other was absolute and unwavering.
The ultimate in teamwork.
And they still are -
And the new breed show all the signs of carrying the torch forward to yet another level.

So, what's the conundrum?

Well, if we can produce heros like this,
and we can produce artistry like Yeats, Joyce, Shaw,
Ó Riordáin, Kavanagh, Wilde, Swift, Eileen Gray, ...
scientists like Boole, Beaufort, Tyndall, Boyle...
Pantridge, Anthony Clare...
engineers like Ferguson, Holland, Callan, Mitchell...
and I couldn't even TRY to list the musicians, singers, dancers - think about it,
Spillane, John Field, Ó Riada, Sinéad O'Connor, U2, Riverdance, . . .

All uniquely Irish, all magnificent in their field.

So the conundrum?
If we can produce these magnificent beings, why on earth are we making do with Cowen, Coughlan, Lenihan, and though I'm convinced that Kenny, Gilmore et al would do better, I don't know how much better they would be.

We should have inspirational politicians, God knows that we need them.
We need passion. The capacity to 'lay the body on the line for the team'.

Cometh the hour - where is the (wo)man ?

The ceremony of innocence...

I'm sitting here, a lowly worm, thinking about a line of a poem... "the centre cannot hold..."

I had to go and look it up. It's WB Yeats

The Second Coming

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."

The world is falling apart - and it is really falling apart. The idols feet of clay have been revealed. So many idols, so far to fall... It's worth looking up Daniel 31-33.

And yet, my dog looks at me with those adoring, watchful eyes. She doesn't care if I have money - or not, if I'm fashionable - or not, if I'm intelligent - or not, even if I'm kind - or not.
She just loves me, and because she trusts me totally, I'm captivated. I could no more let her suffer for an instant than I could stick a knife in my own eye.

All these greed-driven people who have brought the world to this pass, I'm sure that most if not all of them have dogs, and children, and partners who love them. What is it that brings people from innocence to corruption?

I'm sure that nobody sets out in life to be voracious. That's what hunger does to you. Hunger is caused by a lack of resources. If your perception of the world is that you lack resources, hunger builds, you become voracious. Even if the resources are there - but the perception is that they are not - then the animal instinct is to gorge and gorge.

Is that what happened? Is the predatory instinct so strong that it shows through the behavioural niceties that we call 'society'? Animals have a pecking order. I have a horrible sinking feeling that this chaos is a consequence of the falling apart of the old pecking order. Are we feeling the unforeseen birth-pangs of a meritocracy, and where will that lead us?

Geez, my head hurts... time for this worm to go.
Especially having mentioned
THE P WORD (ie. peck)