Tasty morsels for hungry Dementors
25/08/2004 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
izmeinaAnother lazy but interesting day in Izzieland. Bad serpent snoozed all morning instead of getting up bright and early to attend an ever so exciting managerial accounting lecture at 8.30 am. First stuck the Izzie nose out the door at llam.
Izzie decides to be good and walk to the Ministry. Firstly because she is feeling cheap and nasty and needs some exercise. Secondly she wants to stop for a coffee on the way to the Michael Moore film at 12.30pm.
Coffee time includes the usual peek in the newspapers. The main story concerns a rather pathetic incident concerning a rowing team at the Olympics.
A bit of a worry about a nation's priorities when the words 'tragedy' and 'disaster' are used to describe a team not winning a medal because one of its members collapsed. Apparently the rest of them were bitching and whingeing because obviously they were disappointed that their four years of training at five in the morning had been all for 'nothing' They were also peeved that this same rower had fainted or collapsed on previous occasions.
A whole bunch of these bitches had been whining to the papers about this awful woman who had deprived them of glory by not being a 'team player' Iz thinks it is a bit silly to put some one on the team who is known to have not quite sorted out her 'Dementor problems' but at the same time - did they truly want the poor woman to actually kill herself just so that they could get some silly medal?
Then of course there is this tiresome saga of the "Battle of Wounded Knee" where an athlete had the misfortune to injure herself during training only two weeks before the games and went to all sorts of bother with surgery and physiotherapy in order to compete. She has apparently qualified for her event. These folks are only in their late teens or early twenties and seem quite prepared to hobble around like 90 year olds for the rest of their lives if that is what it takes to be merely in with a chance of going for gold.
After reading endless pages of such tragic sagas, Iz then comes across a story buried somewhere in the middle of the paper. This poor kid sacrificed far more than a knee and not only did he not get the gold but he didn't even have a choice in playing this gruesome game.
It was one of the scariest and most disgusting things that the Iz has ever seen. It ranks up there with those lowlife superstitious riff raff who although being only an itsie bitsie teenie weenie tiny percentage of the six thousand million or more horrid humans on this planet, consider that the remote possibility of improving their miserable little sex lives is worth the lives of the couple of thousand tigers left on the whole planet who are facing extinction because of these pathetic perverts and their purchasing power.
If it's not defenceless animals they are picking on, then it is equally defenceless children such as ten year old Samuel Luis of Mozambique. This poor kid now has a snowball's chance in hell of ever getting married and having children and is already treated as a social pariah by most of the other children his age. There was a picture of himself and his father with the story and the poor kid has just a blank expressionless stare and looks like a total zombie.
Now if only there was Olympic medals awarded for catching the bastards who do this sort of thing and especially the lowlife guttersnipes that are paying them for procurement.
After that bloodcurdling report, Iz headed up to one of the lecture theatres for more doom and gloom. Originally intended to get some silver sickles from the hole in the wall on the way but decided to leave it until later.
The Michael Moore film "Roger and me" was showing at 12.30 and the folks showing it were some sort of leftish socialist sort of group. They had lots of leaflets, pamphlets and the usual ranting sorts of magazines and collection of badges and stuff. Amongst the usual predictable sorts of stuff like "No blood for oil" or "Out with Bush" was some really clever and cute ones with slogans like "Bush/Cheney 1984" and Izzie's absolute favorite showing a piccie of George Bush and John Howard looking very smug, relaxed and comfortable, gazing into each others eyes with nothing less than utter adoration (well - certainly on the part of Mr Howard) The caption read "Equal rights for same sex couples" Iz just died laughing with the evilness of it all and was just so so peeved that she did not have a single sickle left after paying the $$3 entry fee for the movie.
And as for the movie itself. Will have to save that for another post. Talk about food for thought. But until then - the general impression - all the silly parades and stuff that used to take place in the 40's and 50's all featuring General Motors as the star of the show - reminded Iz ever so much of those silly Russian parades of military machinery or happy proletarians rejoicing in their good fortune to live in a workers' paradise. Even the so called beauty pageant queens seemed strangely reminiscent of that square jawed bitch in that hideous Russian statue that used to feature at the beginning of those awful Soviet films from the 1970's. I guess the American equivalent would be the vacuous blond bimbo straight out of Stepford.
And the 1988 version of Flint also seemed strangely reminiscent of the bleak desolate misery of Magdeburg or East Berlin. Truly an American Chernobyl. So once again another location to add to the list of Dementors' Delights.
Izzie decides to be good and walk to the Ministry. Firstly because she is feeling cheap and nasty and needs some exercise. Secondly she wants to stop for a coffee on the way to the Michael Moore film at 12.30pm.
Coffee time includes the usual peek in the newspapers. The main story concerns a rather pathetic incident concerning a rowing team at the Olympics.
A bit of a worry about a nation's priorities when the words 'tragedy' and 'disaster' are used to describe a team not winning a medal because one of its members collapsed. Apparently the rest of them were bitching and whingeing because obviously they were disappointed that their four years of training at five in the morning had been all for 'nothing' They were also peeved that this same rower had fainted or collapsed on previous occasions.
A whole bunch of these bitches had been whining to the papers about this awful woman who had deprived them of glory by not being a 'team player' Iz thinks it is a bit silly to put some one on the team who is known to have not quite sorted out her 'Dementor problems' but at the same time - did they truly want the poor woman to actually kill herself just so that they could get some silly medal?
Then of course there is this tiresome saga of the "Battle of Wounded Knee" where an athlete had the misfortune to injure herself during training only two weeks before the games and went to all sorts of bother with surgery and physiotherapy in order to compete. She has apparently qualified for her event. These folks are only in their late teens or early twenties and seem quite prepared to hobble around like 90 year olds for the rest of their lives if that is what it takes to be merely in with a chance of going for gold.
After reading endless pages of such tragic sagas, Iz then comes across a story buried somewhere in the middle of the paper. This poor kid sacrificed far more than a knee and not only did he not get the gold but he didn't even have a choice in playing this gruesome game.
It was one of the scariest and most disgusting things that the Iz has ever seen. It ranks up there with those lowlife superstitious riff raff who although being only an itsie bitsie teenie weenie tiny percentage of the six thousand million or more horrid humans on this planet, consider that the remote possibility of improving their miserable little sex lives is worth the lives of the couple of thousand tigers left on the whole planet who are facing extinction because of these pathetic perverts and their purchasing power.
If it's not defenceless animals they are picking on, then it is equally defenceless children such as ten year old Samuel Luis of Mozambique. This poor kid now has a snowball's chance in hell of ever getting married and having children and is already treated as a social pariah by most of the other children his age. There was a picture of himself and his father with the story and the poor kid has just a blank expressionless stare and looks like a total zombie.
Now if only there was Olympic medals awarded for catching the bastards who do this sort of thing and especially the lowlife guttersnipes that are paying them for procurement.
After that bloodcurdling report, Iz headed up to one of the lecture theatres for more doom and gloom. Originally intended to get some silver sickles from the hole in the wall on the way but decided to leave it until later.
The Michael Moore film "Roger and me" was showing at 12.30 and the folks showing it were some sort of leftish socialist sort of group. They had lots of leaflets, pamphlets and the usual ranting sorts of magazines and collection of badges and stuff. Amongst the usual predictable sorts of stuff like "No blood for oil" or "Out with Bush" was some really clever and cute ones with slogans like "Bush/Cheney 1984" and Izzie's absolute favorite showing a piccie of George Bush and John Howard looking very smug, relaxed and comfortable, gazing into each others eyes with nothing less than utter adoration (well - certainly on the part of Mr Howard) The caption read "Equal rights for same sex couples" Iz just died laughing with the evilness of it all and was just so so peeved that she did not have a single sickle left after paying the $$3 entry fee for the movie.
And as for the movie itself. Will have to save that for another post. Talk about food for thought. But until then - the general impression - all the silly parades and stuff that used to take place in the 40's and 50's all featuring General Motors as the star of the show - reminded Iz ever so much of those silly Russian parades of military machinery or happy proletarians rejoicing in their good fortune to live in a workers' paradise. Even the so called beauty pageant queens seemed strangely reminiscent of that square jawed bitch in that hideous Russian statue that used to feature at the beginning of those awful Soviet films from the 1970's. I guess the American equivalent would be the vacuous blond bimbo straight out of Stepford.
And the 1988 version of Flint also seemed strangely reminiscent of the bleak desolate misery of Magdeburg or East Berlin. Truly an American Chernobyl. So once again another location to add to the list of Dementors' Delights.
