Team Metropolitan Police – fuck yeah!

Shooting victim had expired visa – BBC News. Oh well, better dead than deported.

And the whole thing suddenly reminded me of Team America – Woo! Yeah! We saved Paris from the terrorists! Unfortunately in the process, the Eiffel Tower has been toppled, the Louvre has been blown up, the Arc de Triomphe flattened and all the rest of it. So here is one man that was killed, not by terrorists, but by police who were, ironically, trying to protect him (as an innocent member of the public) from terrorists. How many more?

On the Subject of Motives

In his post of 12th July, Devastatin’ Dave introduced the subject of motives in respect of the orchestration of acts of war or terrorism by governments.

Today the US House of Representatives voted to extend indefinitely the Patriot Act. I find it very interesting that the vote came up today, just one day after the four acts of terrorism that happened, and yet did not quite happen, in London.

At the same time, New York City has decided to initiate “random” searches within its subway system. The NY Police Department’s chief spokesman, Paul Browne, said that they had been considering bag searches for the past three years, and now the events in London have “forced their hand.”

It would seem that most people in New York are not objecting to the searches because of their desire for some semblance of security, but then again, most Americans do not object to anything. At least the New York Civil Liberties Union is speaking up against the searches, rightly comparing them to a search for “a needle in a haystack”. The rule right now is bag searches only; what about in winter when someone can easily conceal a bomb under his or her coat?

Rep. Martin Meehan (D-Mass) described the Patriot Act as “an effort to answer the most difficult question a democracy faces: How much freedom are we willing to give up to feel safe?”

It is a valid question, but here is the answer, as previously quoted somewhere on these blogs:
“They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”
– Benjamin Franklin

(Thanks, DD.)

Live free or die

There are some weird state mottos. Now that I have signed up to move to the state with the best motto, I decided to research what some of the other states had to say for themselves.

Best motto
New Hampshire: Live free or die

Good mottos
Alabama: Audemus jura nostra defendere - We dare defend our rights
Delaware: Liberty and independence
Iowa: Our liberties we prize and our rights we will maintain

Mottos that somehow missed the mark
Indiana: The crossroads of America
- sorry, sounds like a shopping mall
Kansas: Ad astra per aspera – To the stars through difficulty
- 1950s advert or communist slogan
New Mexico: Crescit eundo - It grows as it goes
- what the fuck does that mean?
Oklahoma: Labor vincit omnia – Work conquers all
- my favourite - Arbeit macht frei
Washington: Al-ki (Chinook) - By and by
- mañana?

Why I never feel guilty when I shag a married man

I just had an e-mail from a friend in Edinburgh, to whom I happened to have been engaged at one time. Since I left Scotland in 1990, I have seen him only twice, once in 1999 and once in 2004. We had planned to meet again in March of this year, but Hamish came down with the flu so we cancelled.

Of course Hamish is not his real name, but it’s just so over-the-top Scottish that it makes me laugh.

Hamish and I both got married in 1995. When we had our first tryst in 1999, I had already filed for divorce and he was still married. When we had our second tryst 5 years later, I was single and he was still married. After we cancelled our March meeting, we agreed that we should not see each other again. I had lost interest, frankly, and Hamish said he had been feeling guilty.

Today I e-mailed Hamish to tell him about Jarda’s death and we subsequently exchanged a couple of e-mails. In Hamish’s last e-mail he told me how happy he was with his wife, how he loved her to bits, and that he was seeing someone regularly for sex on the side.

My conclusion: if a man is going to cheat, he is going to cheat - if not with me, then with someone else. If I do not even know the wife or the girlfriend involved, there is absolutely no reason for me to feel guilty. If I betray a relationship of my own, I am at fault, but I am never responsible for someone else’s betrayal of his relationship.

Jarda again

Jarda always called me Žirafa (giraffe) or Žirafička (little giraffe), and it really hurts that I will never hear that again. All of my giraffe-themed things are still in storage in Gareth's dad's garage in Hemel Hempstead; now I am afraid to see them again. I used to call Jarda "Bunny" (sometimes my nephews would call him "Uncle Bunny" - they thought that was hilarious), but that won't keep me away from my rabbit (inappropriate, perhaps, but it made me smile).

Jarda and my Aunt Cookie absolutely loved each other and stayed in touch long after Jarda and I split up. Yesterday Aunt Cookie sent me the last couple of e-mails Jarda had sent her; here is the very last one dated 23rd February 2005.

Dear Cookie,
How are you? It’s been a while since my last email, I am not even sure whether it’s my turn to write. As you can see from my address I have changed jobs again. I am staying in the automotive/ quality assurance. Working for the Germans is way more pleasant than working for the Japanese. Siemens is a huge company, here in Brandýs nad Labem (20km from Praha) we produce stuff for most of the largest European car manufacturers ...Mercedes, BMW, Opel, VW, Renault, Scania, DAF and many others. I joined the company at the begining of this month.
I also have a new girlfriend, her name is Vlaďka, she is 24, very beautiful. I am thinking about getting married again. When I met her, her life was not very nice, she left home when she was only 17, she had been addicted to metamphetamines for years...she just came out of the rehab center last week, I have arranged a job for her here in Siemens. I dont think I am making a mistake helping her. Fell in love with her the second I saw her first.
I better get back to work now.
Take care, love
Jarda

London and Iraq

I was reproached on my post of 7th July about the bombings in London for writing “… unfortunately the war in Iraq has increased the likelihood of such attacks.”

Today in the news: “A respected think-tank has claimed that UK involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan could have fuelled the London terror bombings.”

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/050718/356/fnjx8.html

The Blair government has, not surprisingly, criticised the report.

The thing is that neither the report nor I mean to say that the bombings could not or would not have happened eventually no matter what. There is, of course, no way to know. What the report claims, and I agree with it, is that UK involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan has increased the likelihood of such attacks in Britain, and has certainly contributed to terrorist recruitment and fund-raising.

We are caught up in a self-perpetuating cycle of violence and murder, and I fear that our governments are not even interested in trying to break the cycle.

Česká Lípa

One of my favourite places to be is in the garden of Arn’s family’s cottage just outside Česká Lípa. The first time I went there was with Jarda and the rest of the kids 11 years ago. Yesterday was perfect, and it made me very sad to think that Jarda would have loved to have been there with us too.

We drank, we ate, we played with the kids (it was good to have little children around yesterday – they lifted my spirits), we talked about Jarda, we talked about other stuff, we drank lots more, we ate again, we drank and drank and I think Arn kept the barbecue going till about 3 a.m. Sometime, very late, it must have been around 2, the guitars came out and Arn and Tom played and we sang. I think everyone else had left or gone to bed by then except me and Jeanie Weenie. And somewhere in there I wandered off further into the garden and sat in the grass and cried and cried and cried. I don’t think I had ever cried that much before in my life.

We figured out that the last time I had seen Jarda was March 2004. The last thing I ever heard from him was a text message he sent a couple of months ago telling me that he was getting married on the 9th of July. I had hoped he might finally be happy. Arn said that even if he only saw Jarda once or twice a year, it was still incomprehensible to think that now he will never see him again. We all felt the same way.

We talked about how Jarda had been when we all had first met him 12 or 13 years ago. A good friend, funny, entertaining and kind were on the list of his attributes; we also talked about his depression and drug use, and the other group of friends he had on that darker side of his life.

Arn has already put a tribute to Jarda on the Lingers website - see link at right.

I want to thank everyone who has called or sent a message. All of the support has really helped. Jarda’s death is turning out to be a lot harder for me than I would have thought, being that we had split up over 6 years ago.

And thanks especially to Arn, Tom and Petr for yesterday. Absolutely perfect. XXOO

Jarda

Petr called to tell me. He told me in Czech so I tried to convince myself that I must have understood wrong. Jarda is dead. He threw himself under a train in Děčín. Martin (Jarda's little brother) said that he had had a fight with his wife. What the fuck?!! They had been married for all of four days. Petr and I wanted to find some confirmation. Martin used to be a heroin addict and we could never really be sure with him.

Jesus. I was shocked and I cried. My heart hurt for his new wife and his parents. Now I am a mixture of angry and numb, definitely still in shock. I called Monkey, my mom, Jono and AG. I sent an e-mail to people overseas who had known Jarda, who I knew would never hear if I didn’t tell them.

Finally I checked an old e-mail address that I no longer use for personal correspondence. There it was: a message from Jarda’s responsible big brother dated yesterday with the news. Now we had to believe it.

We already had a plan for this weekend: Petr, Jeanie Weenie and I (and Lukáš, the giant back-breaking baby) are going up to Česká Lípa to see Arnošt and Tomáš tomorrow. Petr, Arn and Tom were three of Jarda’s best friends at university. None of us really still talked to Jarda, but the four of us have remained close with each other. I just talked to Arn on the phone, and we agreed that it’s great that we will all be together tomorrow. We can get drunk and talk about what a jerk Jarda was.

Jarda had threatened suicide at least a couple of times before. One night right after I had left him just over six years ago, he called me from Nuselský most, the "suicide bridge", to tell me he was going to jump off. I think I wanted to tell him to go ahead, but I didn’t. Still, I never thought he would really do it.

Jarda had problems with drugs, on and off. I know the girl he just married did too. I don’t know if that had anything to do with his suicide; I guess it must have in one way or another.

Jarda was actually a good person. He was intelligent, funny and kind. He was a bit aimless and never really found his place in the world, which was obviously a big problem for him. I can’t say that I will miss him because I haven’t even seen him for a year or 2, but still, I didn’t want him to be dead.

Jarda obviously did not want to be here anymore and I have to accept that. Taking pills is a cry for help; throwing yourself under a train is a certain way out. I can already feel the shock and anger starting to turn to grief.

Suicide

My ex-husband is dead. He threw himself under a train two days ago. He had just got married four days before that. I don’t get it.

Ode to a Monkey

monkey /'mungki/ noun 1 any of the primate mammals, with the exception of human beings and usu the lemurs and tarsiers… 2 informal a mischievous child; a scamp. 3 any of various machines, implements, or vessels, esp the falling weight of a pile driver. 4 Brit, informal the sum of £500. 5 slang a desperate desire for or an addiction to drugs. * have a monkey on one’s back slang to be addicted to or dependent on drugs. make a monkey of (somebody) to make (somebody) appear ridiculous.

monkey verb intrans informal 1 (often + about/around) to act in an absurd or mischievous manner. 2 (+ with) to meddle or tamper with something.

monkey business noun informal mischievous or underhand activity.

monkey flower noun any of several species of plants with yellow or red flowers resembling those of the snapdragon…

monkey jacket noun a short fitted uniform jacket reaching to the waist.

monkey nut noun Brit a peanut.

monkey-puzzle noun a widely planted S American evergreen conifer tree that has a network of intertwined branches covered with spirals of stiff sharp needlelike leaves… [from the notion that even a monkey would have difficulty climbing it].

monkey shines pl noun NAmer = MONKEY TRICKS

monkey suit noun informal a dinner suit.

monkey’s wedding noun SAfr, informal a mixture of sunshine and rain.

monkey tricks pl noun informal mischievous or underhand acts.

monkey wrench noun a large spanner with one fixed and one adjustable jaw.


Definitions taken from The Penguin English Dictionary, Czech edition 2005.