Saddam was innocent of 9/11

A killing less amusing

So, they have killed Saddam Hussein and so what next?

There is no need to gloss it over as an execution, it was a killing, and a sort of executive homicide; the hanging rather than a firing squad would not make the death any less a miscarriage of due process.

Saddam Hussein for all his faults and misdeeds simply exercised the opportunity he had in leadership to perpetrate control over his people.

He terrorised the few to maintain control over the many, this is not to belittle the sufferings of those who paid the ultimate price as subjects in Saddam´s rulership, but this man is no greater tyrant than Hitler, Stalin, Pinochet, Pol Pot, Idi Amin or Pinochet, none of whom was subjected to the kangaroo court show trial that lead to his condemnation.

The lies of war

Let us examine the facts again; Iraq was invaded because some analyst put it into the head of some world leaders that there was tenuous link between Saddam and Al Qaeda with regards to the September 11^th 2001 attacks.

Then, the scare of “Weapons of Mass Destruction” lead to regime change and the introduction of democracy in the quest to enfranchise the Middle East and democratise radically Islamic lands with a brand of Western democracy and capitalism.

All these grand plans have brought us to the point where the US Army on the day Saddam Hussein’s sentence was affirmed, had lost exactly the same number of soldiers in combat as those who perished in the 9/11 attacks – 2,973 in all; as the country is on the verge of disintegrating into civil war.

It is now all evident that Saddam had no contact or interest in Al Qaeda and their machinations, neither did he have any part or knowledge of the 9/11 attacks, in fact, he was quite well contained by the sanctions (despite the oil-for-food) and no-fly zones, albeit, dissidents painted fantasy stories of his activities which the West swallowed and trusted without verifying.

First order hypocrisy

They who stood in judgment over Saddam should and would have a lot to answer for when history pens these events for posterity and the study of world government, where the ascendancy of democracy, the prevalence of market economies and globalisation, the collapse of communism, the rise of fundamental Islam and the politics of energy supply have left us all in a precarious situation than we have ever been since civilisation began to have meaning to all.

The crimes that Saddam committed against humanity are in consonance with those who now try to exculpate themselves from his tyranny having aided him morally and materially through the years.

The Iran-Iraq War

The Invasion of Iran between the years, 1980 – 1988 could not have been done without the help of America who were smarting from the Iranian Revolution who had American citizens held for 444 days. He was aided with weapons and logistics to obliterate Iran in which millions of lives were lost; he was a tool and war that extended beyond the borders of the self-same activity.

Halabja-Dutch connection

The Crushing of the Kurdish Uprising in 1987 – 1998, just towards the end of the Iran/Iraq war which included the unfortunate Halabja gassing of over 5,000 had a Dutch businessman as the source of the gas, obviously, all parties knew that the gas would not be used in lighting stoves.

Kuwait keeping the oil price low

The Occupation of Kuwait in 1990/1991 leaves many complicit, the Genesis of this was in the oil glut that Kuwait was exacerbating, and meaning Iraq was not getting enough funds for their oil after a debilitating 8 year war. The many warnings Iraq sent to Kuwait were ignored and other Middle Eastern countries sympathised but did nothing to act in favour of Iraq, the West would not have wanted oil prices to increase substantially, however, Saddam’s desperate actions to help his country get funds by annexing Kuwait, created the desired effect of raising the price of oil for a while, a situation of unintended consequences for the West and the start of the first Iraq invasion.

All talk and no support

The Crushing of the Kurdish and Shia uprisings in 1991, leaves much to be desired of the coalition that forced Iraq out of Kuwait. They goaded the people into clamouring for the overthrow of their leader but did nothing to support the uprising. With foreign armies out of the way, as any leader would do, he unleash terror on the uprising and crushed it whilst the West looked on having secured a security footing in the Middle East for the control of oil resources.

No care for the environment

The destruction of the Iraqi Southern Marshes from 1991 to 2001 was environment habitat vandalism that destroyed the livelihoods of the Marsh Arabs, making them refugees in neighbouring countries, if we had paid as much attention to the destruction of this habitat as we do of other animal species, maybe a lot more would have been done to prevent this.

There is no doubt that Western machinery would have help bring this about, despite the fact that we hated Saddam we wanted the contracts that paid huge sums of money.

Repressed and distressed

Finally, there was the internal repression of the Iraqi people by the cabal of Saddam’s kith and kin, he was tried for the killing of 148 from Dujail out of the possibly 300,000 that lost their lives.

None of these would have happened without the support of those who now rejoice at his condemnation and execution, most especially in the White House.

However, the farce of this whole event would be the posthumous trial of Saddam Hussein for crimes against humanity, now Iraq has been know for a lot of precedents, but flogging a dead horse is not the going to win any races just as a dead Saddam would not have opportunity to defend himself if the trial would be in anyway just.

Martyr or healing?

What Iraq needs is to convert this travesty of a court into a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to find the truth and consider amelioration or compensation for the crimes of the state against its citizens.

If this trial does continue, it would be the birth of a martyr to a cause we have condemned but cannot control and in the end, never has an endeavour to war on a suspect purpose yielded so much loss for a goal that seems unattainable – America will not leave Iraq with its pride intact and the death of Saddam would not offer them the moral ground to justify the situation we have so far witnessed in Iraq.

The mess in Mesopotamia is America’s doing because of 9/11, but whilst Saddam who had nothing to do with it hangs from the gallows, Osama bin Laden and Mullah Omar Mohammed remain alive to deal terror like they did before – why are the real criminals still free now that the distraction of Saddam is over?

Some chronological material was acquired from articles in the Daily Telegraph of the 30^th of December 2006.

The importance of being particular

Hotel satisfaction at your expense

Whilst this sounds like a play on Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, I am not about to provide a twist on the person or usage of Earnest.

However, there are essential bits of detail that need to be, just so, when one finds that living out of a suitcase and ending up in hotels comes with both work and play.

I got the keys to my room and was not particular about the bellboy getting my bags up before me, as I stepped into the room, the whiff or stench of those who had been before hit me like a hurricane, I gasped for breath as I reached for the phone.

Not another whiff, said I

“Is this a smoking room?” I enquired; in fact, it was and the receptionist offered to call me back in 5 minutes. Not on your life, I was not spending another minute in that room, so as I dropped the phone, I was on my way back. I had closed the door when the phone began to ring, I had the good sense not to return to answer it – I was about to be fobbed off if I allowed it.

So, at the reception, the concierge noted I was particular about having a room with a wireless connection, indeed, I do need that for lots of reasons, I never stay in a hotel without one.

That was the only one available with a wireless access, well, I am not having it, I am not staying in a smoking room even though I stopped smoking 23 years ago.

My mind does not need to work overtime on this, I expect to be put in a hotel of the same hotel chain (Accor) with similar or better services at no extra cost, transfers borne by the hotel, it has happened before.

Then, suddenly, a room materialised and I settled into my smokeless suite without much ado.

Hotel restaurants can surprise

Since, I was too lazy to go scouting for a decent restaurant, I decided to use the hotel restaurant, and these restaurants could be quite good especially in unfamiliar lands where one would like to sample the local cuisine. I was suitably impressed in Prague by one such offering; however, beware of the occasional burnt offering.

The elevator had a set menu and I taste-buds were already excited with what would go for the entrée; I had no mind for the main course.

In one kitchen a menu should be flexible

I was ushered to my table and the menu presented and I could not understand why that entrée from the set menu could not be found in the standard menu or offered as an option considering it was not declared special.

Anyway, I asked to have the desired entrée and a plat principal from the main menu, the waitress decided to argue that this was not possible. I had already ordered sparkling water and was about to decide on the wine,

Simple logic need be applied here, “Are these menus serviced from the same kitchen?” I get an affirmative. In that case, can I have what I have ordered, still a demeanour of recalcitrance prevailed – so, I asked for the bill as per the sparkling water.

At that point the waitress suggested I make other choices at the risk of getting me a bit angry, I intimated, I make the choices I want for food and if not available I would eat elsewhere.

At that point she offered to get the supervisor to chat to me about my choices that was unnecessary, I advised she either get an OK from the supervisor or bring the bill, I was not going to have two catering staff gang up against me because of my unusual choices.

I got what I wanted, hence, the importance of being particular.

Celebrity piss-water bargains

Shopping gone mad

As I reclined on a deck chair in the sun reading my Daily Telegraph, I noticed that they had devoted some inches to the recent phenomenon of shoppers looking for bargains queuing up from the early hours for the Christmas sales.

It appears there has been some queue-jumping, jostling and possibly rustling as these hapless bargain seekers max out their credit cards for things they cannot afford to keep a trendy aura about themselves.

In one instance, the till was almost knocked over a couple of times apart from queuing up for 90 minutes trying to pay for all these designer goods manufactured in the sweatshops of the Asia for a pittance.

There is no doubt that one does have better things to do with ones time and as I learnt many years ago, if you have to ask the price, you probably cannot afford it apart from the fact that if you do not have the cash in the bank for that commodity or accessory, you can do without it.

Evidently, I do not do trendy and nowhere is that ephemeral aggrandisement more evident in the proliferation of celebrity piss-water that gets passed off as perfume, fragrance or some new scent of the season - PONG! I say.

Everybody who seems to have made a classifieds mention is now launching some toilet water many of which would not be of the proper vintage for my bidet, then to see people jostling like a mob to get a piece of this piss does take the piss out of common sense.

It would only be time before celebrity flatulence is bottled as the newest fragrance to suffocate the gullible and pong the reserved – the emperor’s new clothes were at least a fashion statement. What desire for piffle.

Reference

Elbows at dawn in the great bargain race

The $2.9bn perfume market

Celebrity fragrances: What price, fame?

Fortress Embassies of our times

Mum´s home school

My mum who for many years was a school principal sometimes forgot that she had left her school and she was now at home with her own kids.

There were times when we had to be so dressed up and buttoned up because as children of a school principal we had to be examples the kind of comportment expected of school children, I probably suffered to more from this control-freakery till one day that I had an outburst that we are her children not pupils of her school.

The funny thing is that it cuts both ways, we became her fashion police and there was a time we refused to let her go out dressed as she was because it would reflect badly on us the children – sometimes, I wonder if parents can handle any of the medicine they dish their children, but she gracefully heeded our concerns.

Gladly, I was never a student in any of her schools, it would have been hellish with every teacher trying to make an example of one and probably getting accolades for inflicting actual bodily harm on the premise of keeping us on the straight and narrow.

It informed the reason why I blatantly refused to attended sixth form school because it would have been in an area where my mum was quite well known – one has to be smart about these things.

My lot of gallivanting

Anyway, the reason why I brought this up pertains to a number of words my mother used to describe what I do, most especially; she reckoned I was always gallivanting, that word had two connotations, that I was a ladies´ man, well, I did have a coterie of fans and that I roam or move around for pleasure.

I suppose we can conclude that I do roam and move about for pleasure, as for the first, well, sometimes mum knows best, no further comment.

So, I have been gallivanting and ended up in Belgium, England, Germany and the Canary Islands, there is no telling where I would be next.

Democracy armed to the teeth

What caught my interest in Brussels was when I took a taxi ride from our Belgium office to the train station and noted a building with a tank, lots of soldiers armed to the teeth, quite reminiscent of a Russian Embassy of old – it was the American Embassy.

I surmised to the cab driver, that it was strange what our world had become with this war on terror or what has become the terror of our democracies in the quest for some safety from those amongst us.

Not a few days after, I was on another gallivant, in Berlin, this time and saw another spectacle of soldiers, tank, guns and an imposing building in the embassy area, I was wrong to think it was American, this time it was British.

It now appears that running the gauntlet of embassy access in foreign lands of countries that so profess liberty and freedom might be a worse event than being caught in the warm embrace of a Tora Bora event – so much for how far we have gone beyond what the terrorists first intended.

Concern

We have not completed the first decade of the 21^st Century and all that was gained in the last 50 years of the 20^th Century has probably been squandered on the quest to spread alien liberal democratic and capitalist values to hostile lands – I do wonder for the promise of 2007.

Surrogate Mum cooking @ 805

Accepting the ordinary

Eating at 805, 805 Old Kent Road, SE15 1NX

Having been called a snob a number of times when I have given objective reviews to things pertaining to Nigerian endeavours, it woud be remiss of me not to commend exceptions to what was looking like a rule.

I have always sought out restaurants that serve Nigerian cuisine, first in London and then on other cities around Europe. In fact, it is a bold initiative to set up a business that caters to particular tastes, however, there is still work to be done to burnish up these business to standards that would open them up to wider and sophisticated clientele.

In some cases, I have been tempted to invade the kitchen without the courtesy of asking for an apron to teach a few fundamentals about the food being served, however, the fear of walking into a place that might make a mockery of the Cholera Joints in Nigeria which consistute sheds of disease borne vermin nestling through the feet of the madam of the cauldron has restrained me.

Enduring the pain

I have in times past borne the pain of food poisoning with resolve and fortitude, the taste of home sometimes compels one to visit again, the need for competition cannot be overstated.

Years ago, Africana on Camberwell Road was the standard bearer, even recently, when offered a doggie-bag for what was left-over, I was indiscrete enough to suggest my dog would not sniff the food - it was that bad.

All Roads to 805

So, this day, I found that this restaurant was on Old Kent Road, number 805, it is no wonder that I never liked London buses and where I should have asked questions, I did not - so between London Bridge and my destination, I happened to ride on 4 buses that all turned off the road except the last.

I was not sure if the restaurant was open, but when I got in and asked, a friendly and courteous waitress ushered me to a seat and brought the menu.

The menu was beautifully designed, well laid out and properly assigned the entrees to the appropriate sections, I do prefer restaurants that defer to words better than Starter, but language does seek a common standard for general understanding.

The riot of tastes and imagination

Boiled Yam with tomato omelette and hints of pepper - well, that was once for breakfast at home when I was a kid, the pictures that formed in my imagination.

Ewa Aganyin - black eyed beans made to a special Aganyin (a Yoruba tribe stradling South-Western Nigerian and Eastern Benin Republic) - it was a pot pourri of delectable tastes, one was lost for choice.

I settled for the Goat Meat Pepper Soup - an entree, Pounded Yam with Edikan Ikan and assorted meats and Guiness Malt drink.

Hot! the pepper soup was, a sniffling nose after the first soup, sweat on my scalp by the second spoon, very palatable.

Exquisite service

Meanwhile, the service just improved as the pounded yam arrived, a bowl of warm water to wash my hands, as I finished, a bowl of soapy water to wash my hands again, after a rather sumptious and wonderfully prepared meal.

Before, I could ask, toothpicks to bring my dentures back to good looks, the only fault I could find was my not learning of the place and visiting before.

I was both suitable amused and impressed, a Nigeria business that had moved beyond the contempt of familiarity and the offering of the mediocre because we condone it, to providing service as one should expect.

If you are seeking authentic Nigeria cuisine in London, you should be making tracks to 805 and 805 Old Kent Road, SE15 1NX - Bus 21 would get you there from London Bridge and you will be overcome with the nostalgia of mother´s home-cooking, once again.

So Saddam dies

More for the body count

As if enough blood has not been shed in Mesopotamia, the death sentence of Saddam Hussein has now been confirmed without option for appeal or commutation.

As usual, the appeal of humanity and barbarity welcomes this announce, Europe asking that this sentence rescinded and America heralding it as the quest for Iraq to "replace the rule of a tyrant with the rule of law". It all sounds hollow to me.

The death of Saddam would not suddenly staunch the flow of blood just as his capture did not change the ferocity of the insurgency.

The miscarriage of justice would be so evident in the finality of his death, as I once stated, Saddam is now guilty of one specific crime, the killings in the town of Dujail, however, he is accused of many others and probably would be guilty of those too.

If however, his sentence is carried out within the next 30 days, the other crimes and accussations would possibly be tried post-humously - so is the legacy of the rule of law that America has bequeath to Iraq.

Illegimate justice

Basically, I do not expect any lawyer to waste their time trying to defend a man who is dead and buried, except if there is a principle at stake. That principle of has already been compromised and made of non-effect by what constituted a circus of a kangaroo court, accepted by many but would hardly be legitimate by ordinary Western standards.

Beyond that, if the death sentence is to be carried out, there is a tradition to execute military men by firing squad, to kill Saddam Hussein as a common criminal by hanging, having ruled his country for about 30 years, albeit tyrannically would leave all involved lesser men that they purport themselves to be.

Blood thirsty plague

There is however a deficit of global leadership on dealing with tyranny, if Zimbabwe, Burma (Myanar), Sudan and North Korea, to name a few thrive on oppressing their people and quenching their aspirations to better government.

Then the appeals court in confirming Saddam Hussein´s sentence was of the opinion that the life sentence given to one defendant was too lenient - baying for more blood obviously.

It can be said that before America visited Iraq, the blood-thirstiness was the preserve of the cabal of Saddam´s kith and kin, now, everyone has a taste for blood, in my view, these sacrifices of human beings would not bring peace, love and joy to Iraq, not that it has brought any respite to all involved.

The passing of soul

His soul has departed

Sadly, news reaches us that James Brown has died at 73. His repertoire of music, songs and lyrics would serve as a catalogue of influence and inspiration he gave to entertainment from which he first earned the accolade of Father of Soul and the Grandfather of Soul.

If anything, his music became part of the movement to help black people see that they do not have to change who they are, especially pertaining to their racial identity, to be people who can significantly change their circumstances and society at large.

Black and proud

When he sang, I am black and proud, it was an anthem of an era, around the time of societal ructions in America as blacks were trying to gain equal citizenship and opportunities to the American dream.

Many would say, "I am black" would suffice and there is no need to say it loud, we have always had our blackness as part of our being, if we cannot live with who were are, then we have been overcome with a poverty of spirit.

Still fighting the old fight

Unfortunately, there are still many who are caught in the yoke of the pre-civil rights days, who still view their race at a disadvantage, who cannot mouth the words of that emancipation for the fear of selling-out of a life steeped in the hatred of all other races and a deeper hatred of those of their race who have just decided to make the best of life without the baggage of the politics of race deprivation.

The passing of James Brown indeed marks the passing of an era, one of the many musicians who whilst entertaining sent a message to their people to stand up like men and women who have rights, can exercise privileges and succeed exceedingly well.

Being black and being successful

In the same vein, one remembers Fela Anikulapo Kuti who in his Open & Close album exhorted us to "Shake your yansh (back-side) like a black man. Basically, the message is, no matter your colour, it should not be an impediment to being whatever you have dreamt you have ever wanted to be, except when you decide to change your colour.

Adieu! James Brown - The Apostle and Grandfather of Soul.

A milestone coded in Java

It is all done

I now found the heart and mind to make my own coffee from a brew of Java beans, this was the last academic module which had to be fulfilled before I could start my thesis.

The chapter closed yesterday as I struggled to make a program do wild things as applets in a browser, it all worked out fine in the end.

Eight modules, with a minimum of 30 hours of study, where the advisory recommended at least 15.

To many breaks were taken but that is because of the nature of my work and the way I have financed the project, but I have learnt a lot and I would miss the fun of Discussion Questions, Discussion Follow-ons, Assignments, Project and other kinds of online interaction.

The most important lesson I learnt during the program was first to be relevant amongst your peers, then, you have to strive with yourself to excel- it is not competition, but what is worth doing at all, is really worth doing well.

Now, to my dissertation in January, having been utterly asocial, seeking hotel rooms with wireless connectivity and not relenting, being a host without a boast and many more deprivations, a well deserved rest beckons – in temperate Gran Canaria for Christmas.

To all my friends, fans, well-wishers and detractors – A Merry Christmas.

Two Score & One - on the shortest day

Giving thanks and looking ahead

I finally got back home yesterday and settled into my bed after long days of working and just as too many of sleeping in strange hotel beds eating funny food.

A half past midnight, I woke up, mouthed a prayer of thanks and rolled off the bed. I am now officially over 40, I'm 41, filling forms would be different now, but I would be more amenable to those that have the 35 - 44 checkbox than ones with 41 - 50 checkbox.

There is no doubt that I am glad to be in my forties, I never considered people in their 40s too old and over the bridge when I was a lot younger. So, when I finally got to 40 last year, there was no need to be depressed because having not despised that landmark nor entertained the fear of growing old and decrepit - if that is the common parlance, my mind and outlook was set on adventure rather than depression.

It is important that people realise that growing older is a continuous process, you do not suddenly arrive at 30, 40, 50 or some big number, you were on that journey from the day you were born, if you do not prepare for it, it would catch you unawares.

Worse still, after the party and the drinks, when you get back home, for days, probably weeks or months a pall of depression descends upon what should be the joy of a new dawn and a personal new year.

There is much to give thanks for and there is much to do, but in all, I am grateful that I am here, I am strong, I am still relevant, I enjoy change, learning is pleasure, giving is fun, sharing is a life force and looking forward to new challenges in the New Year – Life is Good – You can join me for a glass of bubbly.

Birthdays

2005

2004

2003

Between London and Ipswich without passing out

In London incognito

I can imagine that friends, cousins and relations would be cross with me visiting London and not informing them – I have reasons, which might not sound valid to them, but are essential for me.

The last time I was in the UK, I informed so many people and got so swamped that it was impossible for me to get anything done talk less of spending quality time with all these lovely people.

This time, the ones who know are so far out of town that the obligatory visit would not be exacted on the little time one has.

Ma’am and I this morning

So, I spent the morning reviewing the passing out parade of Prince William with the Queen by my side, sometimes one has to step out to grace royal meetings, even Ms. Kate Middleton’s hat was well-worn as it crossed my mind that if she tried to appear more glamorous than her prospective step-mother in-law she might accidentally prick her finger on a spinning-wheel as one does and a hundred years would pass in the bliss of being the 21^st Century Sleeping Beauty.

Though, that is an apt reference considering the Prince could not exceed the 2 guest quota to the dinner celebrating his passing-out, my having rescinded a place did not mean Ms. Middleton could step up to that plate – such is life with the Firm.

Ipswich Town going down

One piece of news pervading the headlines in the UK concerns Ipswich, at one time in my life, I died in Ipswich for 2 years – it is my opinion you cannot live there – times when I tried to make friends the prospects ended up being hostile.

In fact, I slept over at one such “friend’s” place having worked most of the evening helping to recover data, just before 3:00AM the next morning, an armed response team broke down the door and entered the building with assault weapons, I could have been on the set of Lethal Weapon VI; the day before he had threatened his business partner with whom he has disagreements with a possible gun attack.

That put paid of trying to make friends in Ipswich, you make one and you are in a mysterious world of fear and terror, ever to loath all moments – that is just my experience.

Cardinal Wolsey, the catholic cardinal who could not arrange a divorce for Henry VIII bequeath some things to Ipswich, Ipswich is definitely an old town, Chaucer, martyrs and witch-burning in nearby Manningtree a charter that dates back to 1200.

The Suffolk Strangler

So, 5 women who probably were prostitutes and had drug dependency problems have been found murdered and dumped in rivers and fields around Ipswich and there is the possibility of another missing woman, who has been found safe and well.

Somehow, if anyone is missing for more than 5 minutes, panic first and think after, that is the pall of fear that fill the townspeople with irrational anxiety.

Not to talk of just one new opportunity to play up xenophobia as some now suspect a Polish builder who drives a Be My Wife (the irony of seeing prostitutes) – BMW – might have been sowing his wild oats and turned Jack the Ripper – err – the Suffolk Strangler, a good distraction till the facts are better gathered.

In all, if I have nothing to contribute to improving the reputation of Ipswich, I might as well end here – what a place, what a tragedy.

Lady Oddjob is now at odds

Populist but dangerously at odds

They finally had the bottle to do it and rightly so. Lady Oddjob has had her hat thrown at her and she has been decapitated – well not literally.

Readers of my blog would think I have had it in for Mrs. Verdonk for all her populist policies on integration and immigration, which display an overarching toughness but belie a seething illiberal xenophobia that is gaining acceptance amongst the Dutch.

She has on 5 occasions been called to the Dutch Parliament to explain her actions but there was always a détente, a hesitation, and an almost there that there were never enough votes to sanction her.

But Mrs. Verdonk has been no end of trouble for her party and the cabinet in which her party help a minor coalition participation, part of which lead to the fall of the cabinet in the middle of the year.

Popular but unliked

Whilst she did garner more votes than her party leader, in general, she was not aligned to the Dutch way of doing things in government, the parliament now stung or refreshed by the elections of November 22 have now successfully passed a motion of no confidence on her.

The kind of brinkmanship where the Prime Minister just detached himself from responding to the displeasure of parliament had reached a point where there were just enough votes this time to get it over and done with.

She obviously has been unable to take the hint that she is the issue and even if she is not, other people in office with any iota of integrity and self-respect would have stepped-down.

Not Mrs. Verdonk, she would tough it out, like she has always done, till it becomes untenable for the team in which she is a junior member to maintain any credibility. She is a blind Samson who is ready to bring down the temple on herself but taking all the worshippers down too in her suicide mission.

The cabinet which is for now in caretaker mode should now just sacrifice the lady for the stability of governance rather than chuck it all in as they are wont to do in general.

Popular party of one?

Mrs. Verdonk is a junior minister, the indictment is against her intransigence and obstinate demeanour that gets its lifeblood from the Zombie-ist – Rules are the rules – mantra.

We might finally get a minister that would handle the portfolio of Integration and Immigration with a humane perspective because for all her strengths, she worked to disintegrate and make others emigrate.

She might just end up starting her own party, though it is unlikely that she would do anymore harm to the government that what has been done to this comatose cabinet in life-support.

I am beginning to have faith in the Dutch Parliament and it is high time.

References

The Lady Oddjob Blog Trail

The Verdonk Blog Trail

The Naija Bruises of Reply All

Object to the subject

Never has an objective assessment of a situation garnered outrageous subjectivity than when I have had the fortune of expressing an opinion amongst fellow Nigerians.

It would appear the issues of basic netiquette are beyond the comprehension of seemingly knowledgeable people, I wanted out faster than a bullet leaves a gun.

I had written about the use of the Reply All button in a forum where I have had the unfortunate circumstance to find reluctant membership, in which I also offered possible alternatives to accommodate that type of content.

The forum coordinator had announced that a few new persons had joined the community, that was fine by me, but before the cock could crow the first time, 10 emails had arrived in my mailbox, people echoing the welcome greetings to everyone rather than the just the particular new entrants.

True African SPAM

I must have missed something in my upbringing, as I learnt later on; it is in the true African tradition to receive unsolicited email which in the West would be called SPAM.

It was impossible to keep the focus on that issue, by the time I knew it; I was mired in sycophantic acquiescence, dribbled over with the spittle of contrived disappointment and dispossessed of my Nigerian heritage because I dared to challenge an unacceptable convention.

Then, someone said I was bringing Nigeria into disrepute, I had to read over all that I had written, between and over the lines and could find nothing to corroborate that inspired waffle.

Informed consent is a cardinal principle

The issue still is; I was co-opted into that forum because someone just assumed I would want to participate in the forum without seeking my consent; one comment read that as a goodwill gesture.

Where have these people been? Organisations cannot just co-opt you without an opt-in which includes informed consent even if their surveys indicate you might be interested in their products – that principle applies regardless of if it is a village forum or a sophisticated gentlemen’s club.

Read my script upside-down

In the end, I asked for my name to be expunged from their records and mailing lists – for which I received a few brick-bats, I did not say for once that my mother-tongue is in fact English – there is a possibility that what I was conveying in language – tone, context and syntax – was lost in translation - my foible - I say what I mean.

Anytime you are tempted to Reply All, just think about what is actionable about your email and if it is relevant to that audience.

I would talk of this no more, one is utterly miffed and certainly not amused.

Like having a Hard Rock thrown at you

A study in change

A whole week of silence and the dog ate my blog, well that sometimes happens to ones homework.

There were many things I wanted to write about, the face of George W. Bush when he received the Iraq Study Group Report – main point being, the only course is discourse with Iran and Syria – the time for moping is over, you just have to do some talking if Mess-O-potamia is going to see anything like peace.

Besides, the incoming Secretary of Defense had the Senators checking their hearing devices when he answered in a matter of fact way that the war in Iraq is not being won.

If George W. Bush had thought he could scupper the intent, tone and delivery of the Iraq Study Group report by poaching someone for a sensitive position from amongst their ranks, he has just been introduced to a new ball game and all hitters are hitting straight for the head – Ouch! I feel your pain Georgie.

Sit on the Hard Rock

Meanwhile, in the midst of all that kafuffle, Chief Yellow-Feather was busy smoking peace pipes on a Hard Rock – Indian reservations which have licenses to run gambling business very much like the effect the Opium Wars had on China are making serious money and making big deals.

The gambling houses do not seem to have created the wealth for drug and alcohol-abuse which sometimes plagues indigenous tribes and aborigines, somehow, these guys wised up and have made good.

Next time you visit a Hard Rock Café, sit in the wigwam, smoke a peace pipe, have a communal chant as we see the Indians begin to make a killing of the cowboys – history and restitution might live centuries apart but methinks the Indian is arriving with loads-a-money. Don’t forget you feather head dress – so you how much we have learnt from amusing generalizations.

Slow cook Polonium

The radiation fallout is still appearing in more places that I wonder if my impending trip to London is a wise idea – Alright! I would not panic, I would stick to mum’s cooking – Mum! - I shriek - "There is shine in my soup", "That is just oleum" she replies comforting her little boy.

The past is kicking the bucket

That said; Pinochet finally kicked the bucket, the end of an era that leaves memories of how America thwarted democracies that leant towards a socialist ideology for the tyranny of military dictatorships that prey on right-thinking people.

There are still many of that era that live without retribution for the pain and suffering they have caused people in South and Central America – Pinochet would be mourned by just a few, I do wish Kissinger well, but he should try visiting Europe.

This brings me to the dinosaurs that remain in power for eons – Ayoke once wrote of a sermon she heard which is quite enlightening.

The future restrained

30 years ago, General Obasanjo who was then the Head of State of Nigeria visited a school and told the students that they were the future of Nigeria – 30 years on, Chief Obasanjo is President of Nigeria and is impeding the opportunities he suggested those students had 30 years before.

The leaders of old, old ways, old ideologies, old methods, old corrupt activities are still gathering to rule Nigeria – we forget that 36 years before, Colonel Obasanjo took the surrender for the Biafran War, what are they still doing running the country into the ground?

When shall the new consume the old like an unquenchable fire yielding the ashes of our past such that we are no more shackled but free?

By which time I realized that on December the 8^th, I had been blogging for three years, why quit when you are having fun?

Bolton bolts

A sham-ppointment ended

Following his election victory of 2004, George W. Bush instigated some rather controversial appointments which did not endear him to many.

We guffawed when Condoleezza Rice was presented as the new Secretary of State succeeding Colin Powell, we wondered why Rumsfeld was still not given the boot and the nomination of Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court drew more brick-bats than accolades, she eventually declined.

However, the most irreverent of all was that of John Bolton as the US Ambassador to the UN.

Mr. Bolton, a smart, intelligent but abrasive man in want of tact and lacking the graces required of a diplomatic posting could not be countenanced by the US Senate for that position but he went anyway through a recess appointment which had to be confirmed by the Senate eventually.

At a time when the UN was in need for reform through sometimes driven by US animosity for the lack of support for their Iraqi intransigence, Mr. Bolton in the eyes of the President was the right party spoiler to shake the place up.

Diplomacy and demeanour still matters

Unfortunately, they forgot that the UN is still a place where your case has to be eased into the system to garner support – Mr. Bolton probably had great potential but his demeanour made that possibility unrealisable.

After 16 months in the position, the Senate now under the control of the Democrats is still implacable, concerning confirming his appointment and as if by great intuitiveness Mr. Bolton has read the tea leaves and fallen on his sword.

There would be many who like me would not shed a tear for his going and like the metaphor of shaving 10 storeys off the UN Secretariat Building, his presence there has made no bit of difference to improving the perception of Mr George W. Bush’s America.

“There is no such thing as the United Nations. United States makes the U.N. work when it wants it to work. If the U.N. Secretariat building in New York lost 10 stories, it would not make a bit of difference.” John Bolton – 1994

As for the title of this piece, it is not original, but quite apt, anyhow.