Flight

At last, the semester is over. The last couple of weeks was immensely stressful, even if I forced myself to take it slowly – think, wee b, think! Use your head! A simple command, but with water leaking in everywhere, keeping head above said was not trivial. I remind myself now and then that this is – in the large context of things – a fart in cosmos. Soon I am off – going to rellies in Denmark, play with kids, eat duck and drink scnapps.

War and (enforcing) peace in Georgia. Good idea.

Another war happening. South Ossetia.

So again, we’ll se a tennis-match war. One side is saying we took that city, the other side says nowhere near it! all is going swimmingly our way! Felons! Then the others says “yeah, really what about this bombed village/destroyed dock/missing town hall?”,

Land of war, land of peace

A double standard is twice as good as one.

Norway is the seventh largest exporter of weapons. But we don’t like to talk about it. The image of being a peaceful nation, if not THE peaceful nation, would be a little marred by that fact. It’s a lot more fun having the image of peace-builder. We send men in suits around the world openly and secretly, to promote peace and All That Is Good. Naively, but with good intentions, we poke our noses into any ‘clean’ conflict (i.e. any that our closest allies are not involved in. Guess who). You get up on a high horse, there might be a long way down.

We roll around in oil and fish – you’d think that’ll do – but no. Our own army is being downgraded in one end (manpower) and upgraded in the other (fighter jets).

And we export. I like the argument of right and wrong in this – “we only export to the good guys”. Oh, right! Then that’s all right, then! Good bullets and bad bullets.

The world is a complicated place. But idiotic justifications is insulting us all.

Northern Irelands silly ghosts. Attempted murder, hahaha!

I admit I don’t really keep up with Northern Irish news much these days. It’s either desperately provincial – or just plain desperate. Yes, someone planted a bomb the other day, and yes, somebody got hurt. And I’m sure the obscure rural radio show is still going on without me. So. Some things never change.
But the other day, I got tangled in a BBC-infused NI-news-net. And some old skeletons dropped out of the closet. Good old names like Michael Stone and Mad Dog Adair.
Gerry Adams and Martin McGunniess nearly had their parlamentary meeting disturbed by Michael Stone, the old rascal, who wanted to slit the throats of the Shinners. Seriously. No kidding.

Michael Stone – exceptionally bad haircut and not-a-winning personality – stuck his nose out again, and this is a good wan!

media – gossip central and major irony

I don’t read papers much anymore, I don’t have a telly.

In fact, I have been sans telly for …oh.. the main part of the last sixteen years. I had a telly the first four years, I used it as a pedestal for potted plants and asian souvenirs, considered making a fish-tank out of it, and watched, hungover, all in all four hours of the good Sir David Attenborough. I had it for months before I turned it on to figure out if it was colour or black and white. The thing is: some things on telly are good. Some first class stuff. But it is surrounded by trash. So either you turn it on – default – and accidentally bump into something good,… or… I simply forgot when to turn it on for the good stuff.