Thought For The Day

Flaubert wrote,
"To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost."

But what did he know?

Mixing Politics and Sport

In yesterday´s blog I went off the rails a bit. you can do that with blogs.

I had intended to make the point, regarding the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, that the Bush Republicans and John McCain too now, keep talking about ´´winning the war. For about four years now, I have been asking this question and have not had even a vestige of an answer.

HOW WILL WE KNOW WHEN WE HAVE WON?

This is not the sort of war where the losers end up signing a document of surrender and handing over their swords (or scimitars, maybe) to the victor. All I can suppose is that the President at the time will announce that all members of Al Queda have been killed. Official. Peace in our time from now on. And, when another deadly attack takes place, we can say with confidence that it was not Al Queda but some other bunch of bastards - either not so bad, or even worse, depending on what side the coin comes down.

However, this line of thinking will get us nowhere, so let us go back to brooding on yesterday´s other topic, The Olympic Games.
My ideas generated some debate, mostly in favor although it is perhaps not extraordinary that syncopated swimming elicits scant support among my readers.
I was persuaded to look up the official list of Sports´ currently on offer in Pekin. One that stands out as a candidate for immediate dumping is Shooting. Worse even than Ping-Pong, (which is on the Olympic list) or Golf, (which unaccountably, is not), the criteria are not even consistent. Handguns, rifles and shotguns are listed as OK, but not machine guns. Why not? And not a whisper about Bazookas. But why stop there? If Shooting is considered a reasonable way of winning glory and a gold medal for one´s country, why not Bombing?
No, Shooting must go.
Along with Boxing, Wrestling, Tae Quan Do (whatever the hell that is), and Sword Fighting, better known as Fencing. All too violent and silly. I had to think a bit before dropping Archery, but although it is fun at first, SOMEONE COULD END UP LOSING AN EYE, and we don´t want that, do we now?
Doubtless the Chinese have flirted with the possibility of suggesting Baton Charging as a likely addition. Many nations would fancy their medal chances in that event.

If all the nasty activities currently on offer continue to be approved Olympic material, it can only be a question of time before Mugging makes the list. Which, considering how the Bush gang won the last two elections, and treated John Kerry, brings us back to politics. And out.

Unsporting comments

The Invasion of Iraq was, ´Just, noble, and necessary,´says Bush, which means, of course, exactly the opposite. It´s easy to know where you are with George. If he says there is no recession, you know that there is a recession. If he says we are winning in Iraq, we must be losing. When he says things are getting better there, as does McCain, we know that best best we can hope for is that they are getting less worse. Which they ain´t.

Anyway, here are a few predictions.

The Olympic Games will not be held in China this year. Too much pollution and persecution.

McCain will win the Presidency over either Clinton or Obama, probably Clinton. Race and religion will do Obama in.

Sarkozy will overcome his crippling inferiority complex.

I must say, however, that all of these will no doubt turn out to be erroneous. My record of picking election winners is totally consistent. I am always wrong. This is because I can´t imagine anybody thinking or voting differently to myself. I was confident Thatcher would not be elected. Who in their right minds would vote for her? The same happened both times with Bush, of course. Come to that, I wouldn´t have given a rat´s ass for Ratzinger´s chances in the Vatican Stakes. Wrong stable.

While I am on a tear, we might as well tackle the Olympics. I used to look forward to them with great anticipation, particularly the 5k, 10, 1,500m and the marathon. I still like these. I even like the swimming races. But the whole package is now way out of hand and silly and the majority of events should be dumped.
Not just the obviously dopey stuff like synchronised swimming, but also walking races (if you are in a hurry, just bleeding run), the triple jump (hop, step and jump; meaningless. Why not the jump, step and hop?) Then all events that require a panel of judges, all soccer matches (no point - enough soccer competitions already) The pole vault, (too much reliance on technicality), and last , but least, those bike races where the two riders go as slowly as possible for about nine tenths of the race then pedal like crazy at the end (too philosophical).

If the was a Waterboarding event, I would ban that too. The Americans would be denied a certain gold there.
All flags and national anthems should be banned, and all athletes should wear the same white vest and shorts.

When people say that sport and politics should not mix, I remember years back when the British Rugby teams were prevented from playing the South Africans. That was what the dolts who wanted the Springboks (as the lily-white South African team was called) to compete used to bleat. The fact that the Springboks refused to have black players in their team aparently did not count as politics.

So let´s eviscerate The Games. Cut out all the all the Dressage and Three Day Eventing and Show-jumping - if we allow animals in, we might as well include fox hunting and bullfighting (certain golds for Spain and England, though not necessarily in that order), and move the handful of remaining events to Finland or somewhere else decent and leave the Chinese to kicking the Tibetans around and wondering what to do with the five thousand tons of Egg Fu Yong they have ordered in advance to feed the serried ranks of synchronised slow cyclists, to name but many.

Stepping back in time

The weather is behaving as if it believed all that climate change talk: a succession of warm, sunny days in late February. The locals are worried. The plants are budding, and daffodils are blooming. But they need rain (the plants that is, not the locals), and if we get a big frost later, all of them could be ruined (the locals and the plants).

Still, we took advantage on Saturday. The dogs and us piled into the Kangoo and set off. We decided to stop about 15 miles further on at Cisneros. This is a village with a fair bit of history, as usual around here.
It is reputed to be the birthplace of the eponymous cardinal, around 1430 or so, and there is a statue of him in the main square. He looks like a nasty bit of work, like most cardinals, but it may just be flattering. I am not sure what he is famous - or notorious for, but a rather lively part of Madrid is named after him.

We walked from the town a mile or so along a quiet road which had a series of stone Calvary crosses spaced out along it, until we came to an interesting church, deserted and locked of course. Then we walked on another mile to a village called Pozo de Urama. Outside there, we met an elderly and friendly gent, who commented on Tim, a hunting dog. Didi I have a rifle? No. Did I hunt ? No.

I told him the story of how Tim found us. The geezer, whose name was Ruffino, then told us a lot of things about the area. As usual, the villages have been depopulated hugely. He told us the name of the church we had passed was Christ of the Lamp and that every September 8th there is a procession out from Cisneros and back. Romerias, they are called.

We walked with him to Pozo, his village, where he had been mayor for 25 years. He showed us an alternative way back across the fields , which meant we could let the dogs run loose.

About a half mile outside Cisneros, we saw two stones like tombstones in the ditch by the side of the path. One read.´ Here died Eugenio Herron, aged 36.´ The date was obliterated, but I suspect it was 1936, and that he was a victim of the Civil War. The other stone was a sort of imitation of a Roman tombstone (at least I suspect it was an imitation) with a latin inscription very hard to read. But I think it was a marker of another victim of that war.
We agreed we will try to find out more soon.

These small towns often have a big history, some of which they would often prefer to stay buried..

Ranting about politics, unfortunately.

I try to keep off politics here, but sometimes the urge to kick a few arses gets the better of me.

Today, as Fidel Castro tells Americans he´s going to move aside and give his brother his chance to thumb his nose at them for a few years, George W. seizes the opportunity for some carefully ill-chosen words.
Release your political prisoners, he urges the Cubans. This is sound advice if you don´t have any political prisoners yourself. And, as we read within the last few days, not only does America have Gitmo, but a couple of black holes in Afghanistan in which at least three times as many unknown, uncharged, unconsidered Threats To Democracy are rotting. Some of them may well be double-dyed bastards, but since they will probably never even be named, let alone charged, we will be hard-pressed to know.

I know that by now I shouldn´t be surprised at anything that emerges from the lips of Democracy´s Posterboy, but blimey.

As we are on the subject of politics, I doubt anyone will have the patience to stick with reading this. Still, we slog on, glumly.

There was an article in El Pais a week or so back which made an excellent point on the upcoming elections in America. There is one question that is never raised. This is by mutual consent.
Obama and Hillary both tacitly agree not to mention it because neither of them has a clue, and John McCain doesn´t have to bother, because the Republicans are all in agreement on this if nothing else.

The question is this: If you are elected, what are you going to do about Israel and its treatment of the Palestinians?

All together now, Democrats and Republicans, with one voice: ¨Nothing!¨

And it is probably, in the long term, the most important question of all.

I remember, on the day of 9-11, thinking this is all about Israel.
Within days, of course, George Bush went on TV saying that this was nothing to do with Israel.
A short while later, Bin Laden released a video saying that, yes indeed, it was all about Israel.

Tackling matters

Last Friday, we went on a biggish hike from Calzadilla de los Hermanillos ( which may mean Path of the Little Brothers) to Mansilla de las Mulas (which may mean Hand on the Saddle of Mules, or it may not) A walk of some 12 miles or so. Reb drove the whole way, parked the car and walked back, with Una, to meet me about half way, then turned round and we walked the rest together.
Had a bad moment with Tim before we all met up. At one spot the Camino meets a level crossing and at that point, I was confused about the route. There were some men fixing the track to accommodate the famous high-speed train promised soon. They had a bulldozer working and Tim was frightened to go near it. As he backed away from it, his head came out of his collar. Right then the men pointed out a train coming on at about eighty miles an hour. Tim began to panic, and I had to rugby tackle him and hold him down as the train passed about 15 feet away.
Scary.
He would probably have run away from the train, but who knows with dogs?

We were all pretty tired when we got to Mansilla, but it was a nice walk, bleak - no trees, no shade, no water - but over a good deal of Roman road, which is standing up pretty well after a couple of thousand years. Reb saw two foxes. Tim and I saw nothing but the train, and we could have done without it.

My one contribution to the house project has caused some problems. I noticed we had what seemed like a lot of floorboards left over and suggested they be used instead of plasterboard for a ceiling in the kitchen. Turns out that there were not enough planks, so we then had to go scouring North West Palencia for more. Still, it does look better so far.
Reb has gone all Zen about the whole thing. Que sera, sera, she says, submitting utterly to the inexorability of ineffable fate. I am reminded of a scene in a Truffault movie called Day for Night, in which the director, playing the role of himself more or less, explains how he works.
¨I always start off intending to make the greatest film ever. By the time I am half way through, all I am trying to do is get some sort of plausible ending on it.¨( I paraphrase his words)

I feel like that about practically everything, these days, the house particularly. Just make it warm and dry, please.

Psycho Path

Well, it was a relief to see Rudy Giuliani handed his hat this morning. One less loony to worry about. That leaves about 300 million, not including New Jersey. Two of them yesterday, McCain and Romney, were busy frothing and snarling and accusing one another of being Liberals.

While on the subject of loonies, I was interested, though unsurprised, to read that The Camino de Santiago - on which we live - has more than its fair share of that commodity. A newspaper ran a story a while back, (you can find it at http://www.lavozdegalicia.es/sociedad/2007/09/27/0003_6177964.htm ), the gist of which was that a significant number of pilgrims, mostly male and about 40 years old, are already practically barking before they pull on a boot. As a result, by time they get to Burgos, which is a bit less than half-way, what with tiredness, blisters, other loonies and assorted stressing circumstances, they have to be boxed up, packed in ice, and shipped home. The trouble is, they set out with the intention of solving -or at least confronting - the accumulated problems of a lifetime - lost jobs, broken marriages, mortgage defaults, nervous breakdowns and God knows what all else, by popping on a rucksack and taking a 500-mile stroll.
On top of all that, they often run out of whatever prescription medicine that had been providing a tenuous link to reality. We have seen a few such cases around here.

Maybe, when we come to furnish the house, a sturdy green leather couch (The Freud: 15,000 Euros, a traditional favourite, highly recommended by our medical clientele) should head the shopping list.

On a more serious note, the dogs keep rolling around in some kind of fertiliser that make them stink of rotten fish. Pretty much the same smell Liberals have, if you believe the Republican contenders.

I shall take a bath, but it will do no good.