No Title Worthy Mentioning

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I live in the suburbia, like many of us, in a relatively quiet town where cows still room the neighborhood, in designated areas off course, and the usual suspects, residents, often run into each other in the supermarket.

There are Senators and Mayors amongst the population and by all accounts it seems to be, well, secure. Yeah, but now a days one never knows as I am sure Madoff’s neighbors thought he was all that until he turned out to be a crook.

This is really one of these things that rattle me.

I run to Publix – our newly renovated and refurbished local supermarket after church yesterday to pick up some groceries, when I run into a situation that made me feel like I was on one of the episodes of the ABC show “Primetime: What Would You Do?”.

For those of you not familiar with the show, the series looks at what people will do in sticky situations. It is not about what they will say but what they will do; how they will act in the face of dilemmas testing their character and values. Using hidden cameras, the show sets up everyday scenarios and then captures people’s reactions. It is fair to say that most of those portraying the act are off course actors who are posing to unsuspected people like me but yesterday, to me, it was not an act or entertainment; it was real.

As I picked some fruits and was on my way to the cereal shelf and was going by the fish and meat section when I noticed two man, friends I suppose; bulky like, shanty looking, rusty, unshaved, hard drinker look and liquor smelly (I am not stereotyping this is just the way they look) dudes. One was buying fish while the other waited on the opposite side of the aisle.

The passageway is long enough for three carts; so even though, one of them was just standing there blocking part of it, there is enough space for extra carts to navigate.

I happened to be walking behind two beautiful young girls as they naively strolled by. I say girls (believed to be sisters; they resembled each other) because they could not have been no more then 15, going on 18 and 10 years old respectively.

As the girls appeared on his radar, the guy’s face – the one waiting for his friend – lit up as they approached. He intensely begun to piercingly and starvingly looking at them, as his head followed them each step of the way, as if he wanted to devour them, sexually pleasure himself and could not wait to have the older one on his arms. He was so fixated on the girls that he did not even notice that I was also engrossedly looking at his conduct as he unceremoniously pored over them. Once through with his make-believe voyage, he turned to his partner and they both quipped some off the cuff remarks. I could not hear the exchange frankly not because I could not but because I choose not to hear; I was not interested in learning about their weightless and sickening thoughts.

I know this look; I am familiar with this look; I have seen this look before.

I was so flabbergasted that I could not help but shake my head. I made sure they saw me hoping my action would embarrass them. But that did not work, so I spoke up. I told him that “You know, it was not right what you just did Mr.”

“What”, he replied!

“You know what you were doing; they are just kids!”, I said.

“Oh, they will grow older one day anyway?”, he hastily answered. I swear, I am not kidding; he said that to me.

Wait a minute; did he just say that to me? Did he just shove me down? I was expecting a different answer, like “I apologize madam” or “I was just joking”, something around the realm or not one at all. But to tell me, that they will grow older one day anyway; is he kidding me?

His answer perforated my soul with angst. I was so infuriated that fumes began to annihilate my brain instead of going through my nasals. At that point, to me at least, until he gave me that repugnant answer, it was no longer casual but of sexual intend. They both had “that” smirk in their faces. Granted, the older girl had on short shorts (we live in a tropical climate) and her rear-end resembles that of J-Lo, and the younger girl had on pants but none warranted that behavior.

I felt like confronting the man but decided to walk away instead; I could not afford a scene. I felt like complaining to the management and say what?

Let’s be honest, no one else heard him but me, how could I then justify my battle? They were not doing anything visibly inappropriate; nothing obviously that merited being forceful. It was however, the matter of how he glared at them; it was his response that disturbed me. It may have been the case of “boys will be boys” but nothing justified they not establishing the fact that they were two little girls. It made me pause and I still can’t shake that out.

I was still enraged when I turned left to the next aisle and bared my anger with the first lady I saw. She too could not believe it but had the best choice of words for them – “perverts”, she called them to later “it makes you wonder about people”, she added. Yet, the two of us did not summon enough courage to take that information any further. We both sat on it and went or marry ways. We made our silent noises, murmured around and that was it.

I was exasperated. It is not like he was making a pass at the little girl but he just as well could have. I remember being young once and feeling humiliated by the unflattering behavior when the “guys were being guys”. I know the feeling. It is worth mentioning that I run into the girls a few aisles down; they thanked me but I could not shake the feeling that they did not grasp the depth of the situation.

Knuckleheads of The Week

 

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What’s up Friday? I mean it used to be TGIF (Thank God It is Friday). But the past Friday was nothing then a spectacle.

Drum roll please…

•    Financier Bernard Madoff, 70, a former Nasdaq stock market chairman who allegedly plundered $50 billion from investors.

•    President Robert Mugabe who declared on Friday that “Zimbabwe is mine,” and “I will never, never sell my country. I will never, never, never    surrender,” He also stated that only Zimbabweans can remove him from power and no African nation is brave enough to wrest it from him.

•    Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich who defiantly proclaimed his innocence Friday and said that he will not let a “political lynch mob” force him to resign.

“I will fight. I will fight. I will fight until I take my last breath. And I’m not going to quit a job that people hired me to do because of false accusations and a political lynch mob.” in his first official statement since being arrested last week on federal corruption charges.

I am so sorry Mr. Gubernator Blagojevich

As I listen and watch with astonishment to reporters and everyone else’s incredulous gasps to Governor Blagojevich conduct, I, in dismay, ask what is wrong with this people? Why are they reacting so pathetically to one man’s idiocy? Why is his behavior such a shocker, so enthralling to digest that everyone is so dehydrated by it?

C’mon he did not do anything so extraordinary, so out of character did he? It is not like he robbed a bank then stood at the lobby, placed a call to the police and waited for their arrival or did he?

His behavior is not that absurd. I am just entertained by their shock. They are in such awe and acting like oh my God do you believe this guy kind of thing, as if they have never heard or seen that before.

One doesn’t need to get very far to experience the blaze of its tentacles. One just has to cross the border to see the begibes flying everywhere. It is like going to a doctor, being written a prescription for your cold and walking up to the pharmacy to see the medication over the counter.

The tasteless practices activities, the blood sucking shady appalling bribery demand for anything in return of services remunerated by politicians or anyone in power – embezzlement – occurs every single day and in a despicable fashion. This is not new, at least not to me or to any student of international affairs. It is just another day in the park.

The practice has been around in stitches, in remote corners of the world and it will always be in vogue. The menu has been consistent and served chilly. Perhaps, the choreography is new and not embraced by this audience but it has been performed with precision without a pout of humiliation, without a worry in the world. Mom and dad never had cash but mansions are popping and assets accumulating like dirty laundry.

Their deeds makes governor Blagojevich look like a saint. If the politician’s handshake dealings and relationships were wiretapped, the wires would blow up and beg for mercy.

The scenario currently being played in the news is seen as a scandal but in many countries, it is just a semicolon not a period, a fixture in a magazine. It rumbles the people, it makes noise, everyone gets anxious, thrilled that things are looking brighter, that finally the scumbags are heading to the dungeon and then what? Boom, done, bye bye, I see you later, zilch. Capiche? Just as the whole thing starts, it ends; just like that it dissipates in the air, erased with a sponge without a lament to the puppeteers – the voters who put them there, leaving a stain that no one dare to bleach out.

A revered and award wining Mozambican writer, the great Mia Couto (not known too many but well known across the ponds) wrote an article depicting politics in Africa and why Obama would never fit in, titled “What if Obama was African and candidate to an African country presidency?” The article was transplanted from a newspaper where it was first published and the email made its round to everyone and everyone’s – every soul I know – inbox; I personally received the very same email multiple times from different sources. Two points I found relevant to this discussion and I am hereby transplanting.

“1. If Obama was African, his opponent (one of the George Bush of Africa) would have altered the Constitution to extent his mandate beyond his term limit and our Obama would have to wait a few years before he could run again. The wait would take longer, however, if we take into account how long presidents stay in power in Africa. One for 41 years in Gabon, 39 in Libya, 28 in Zimbabwe, 28 in Equatorial Guinea, 28 in Angola, 27 in Egypt, 26 in Cameron and many others, all in all, a total of fifteen presidents governing for more than 20 consecutive years in the continent. Mugabe will be 90 years old by the time he finishes his mandate for which he forced upon the popular verdict.”

“6. If he had won the election, Obama would have to probably sit around the negotiating table and share the power with his opponent in a denigrating bargaining process that only demonstrates that, in certain African countries, the loser has the ability to negotiate what seems sacred – the will of the people – the votes.  By then, Barack Obama would be seated at a table with none other then Bush in an infinite round of negotiations overseen by African mediators who come to teach us that we should be pleased and accept the crumb electoral process that frequently do not seem to go in dictator’s favor.”

Silvio Berlusconi, Prime Minister of Italy jingled some bells and he is still alive.

Daniel Ortega President of Nicaragua, he did some deeds and came back to town.

Ferdinand Marcos of Philippines out did himself. “Whatever” rest his soul, if there was ever any.

Dr. François Duvalier, known as “Papa Doc” and his Bébé Doc Jean-Claude Duvalier of Haiti, no comment.

Public service is the most honorable thing a servant can exercise. The candidate gets elected to serve the people and nothing but the people – who put their trust on him – to be the getaway and agent of those whom he vowed to represent.

Once elected, he begins to build his castle in the sky with classy traditional courtship. He showers them with flowers, ginger and spice, like one of the three kings on his way to Bethlehem. He scathingly convinces his constituents and promises that he has their outmost interest and pledges that he will do anything and everything in his power to lead them throw. Yeah, tell that to mother goose! Once the duckling gets lose, somewhere, somewhere along the way, he deviates. He lands in the carousel of jingle, the petal of the gravel where the attitude, the culture, the practice of self-aggrandizing is the norm.

Just as he may or may not have intended to, Blagojevich falls into that category of politics for business venture. The truth is that the decree should be stamped on the ballot from the onset. The roles should be stapled beforehand. The dishware should be delineated prior to seating the guests.  We as voters should be made aware that once we get to the precinct, we would be voting for Mr. self grandiose pageant. We should be advised that the candidates would be applying for the self-titled position and the guy with the biggest ego would win. The man with the biggest aspiration of attaining any of the people’s resources, sell their nation’ timeshares and I dare say by any means necessary – no pun intended, getting richer and fat, would get the job. Make no mistake; we would still be voting for them regardless, as we would not be given any other chance, presented with any other option, other then face the scant of a lawless nation, if we did not vote.

People in some countries – no need to single any out but it is a customary juncture – are probably laughing their paints off or thinking that perhaps, perhaps, they could have their candy too if they were able to take part in the United States’ reaction to governor Blagojevich inanity.

Country’s assets should not be their wallets, refrigerators or safes. It should not be used as a voucher and exchanged for commission. It should not be used as give and take chess game neither traded as a meal ticket.

The fact of the matter is that egotism – coming and getting me outlook – has always been their strong suit; it is the sphere of the narcissistic club. They walk around with their faces looking like a bathroom that hasn’t been washed in months and touché! They do not agonize neither loose any sleep over the candies. Shame is not and will never be their strong suit or preferred word, neither is dignity or ethics. There is this popular saying in my heck of the woods which its meaning parallels the subject, I quote “if the food is good, you will eat it but if it is terrible, you throw it away”. I mean why eat rotten food if you run the risk of getting sick or dying of food poisoning?

I have faith (no, I am just fantasying) that citizens of the world will rise up, (Messiah is coming to town, say Amen!) and begin patrolling their politicians with high tech surveillance devices, radars, GPS, whatever available; break into the devilish surreptitious club secret society and make them pink. Yes, pink! I said it. Nothing like seeing a strong man dressed in pink.

It is against the law to bug private citizens in some countries but who cares; at least it would give the voters a peak into their locomotive. Lord I am so out of it!

We don’t have to be had all the time. The citizens of Illinois don’t have to be had all the time (but there is definitely something wrong with their water. Four governors in the pawn?).

There will always be one sour grape amongst the many, it is the nature of the beast.  However, one thing is sure; African leaders make governor Blagojevich look like a busboy. Latin American and Caribbean leaders make governor Blagojevich look like enchiladas and beef parties. Asia leaders make governor Blagojevich look like a sushi. European leaders make governor Blagojevich look like a baguette. Australians and Canadians, they get their ring too.  He does not stand a chance. He may get through the gate but may not make it all the way to the altar. C’mon, money for a high profile Senate seat? It ain’t yours to keep, so it ain’t yours to sell! Are you stupid or pretending? Ain’t there more recipes in your gourmet bad? I am sure you heard about telegram! Shuuu, they used code (ding, ding, ding… secret language) you know.

He sounded so amateurish that even the donkey looks witty. Although, the bad behavior is rewarded and tolerated in some nations, it is nonetheless punishable. Just as he hurled his hands into the basket, a plaited basket awaits him. I am so sorry Mr. gubernator, it is the price of democracy.