Sunday, 28 September 2008

Jesus Freaks

Dear Jesus,

I did you service yesterday. There were two evangelists on the bus. They said they were spreading your message. I seriously doubted whether they really knew anything genuine about you but I took their word for it. But then they started talking about that "hell place" again, saying they were doing us a favour by blessing our souls should our bus crash the moment they were forced to get off the bus without preaching. It seemed that they were holding onto this book that was conceitedly self-titled. They claimed that you wrote the words there. But I doubt you did. In my heart, I would like to believe that you can write better fiction than that.

They promised us they would not be asking for money. Just plain preaching. Just some good old "you're going to rot in the afterlife for thinking for yourself and not trusting the KJV". But the retards asked for money anyway. So I told that they were lying sacks of shit for deceiving us like that. All those years of English politeness and restraint turned into Irish rage.

But it was fun. It felt good standing up to them. Jesus, please send me more of them. Next time I promise to be more polite and less hot headed and ask real questions such as "Do you understand what you are talking about?"

Your thinking fan, not your blind groupie,

Monday, 8 September 2008


I loved the noble way you blushed,

and loved your fine, perfect form.
I loved your clear blue eye,
your way of speech, your skillfulness.

Ferdiad of the hosts and the hard blows,
beloved golden brooch,
I mourn your conquering arm
and our fostering together.

You were a sight

to please a prince;
your gold-rimmed shield,
your slender sword.

The ring of bright silver

on your fine hand,
your skill at chess,
your flushed, sweet cheek,

Your curled yellow hair

like a lovely jewel,
the leaf-shaped belt
you wore at your waist.

You fell to the Hound,

and I mourn, little calf.
The shield didn't save you
that you brought to the fray.

Shameful our struggle,

the grief and uproar!
O fair, fine hero
who shattered armies
and crushed them under foot,
golden brooch, I mourn.

'Tis the lament of the greatest Irish hero that had ever lived, Cú Chulainn, to his dearest friend and brother of the heart, Ferdiad. As youths, Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad formed a deep and loving bond. Years later, and after long separation, they were pitted in battle against each other by the machinations of Medb of Connacht. They fought for three days, each night Cú Chulainn sent Ferdiad leeches and herbs to heal his wounds, while Ferdiad sent him a share of his own meal. Then on the fourth day, Cú Chulainn calls on his mysterious weapon, the gáe bolga (lightning spear), and Ferdiad was killed. Cú Chulainn mourned him in these words.

Many may have forgotten you, Great Gael. But I have not. May Macha the Terrible curse all those who dare mock your love.

Wednesday, 3 September 2008

Will You Rap For Your Tribe?

Sannion tells us that in Israel they get folks rapping about the holocaust and the survival of the Jewish people over heartrending violins whilst in the States they have P. Diddy and Jay-Z bragging about their bling and bitches for the umpteenth time; baffled that they wonder why the rest of the world considers America to be morally and culturally bankrupt.

I say the same for both his country and (its long-time colony) the Philippine Islands. In Slavic countries like Russia, Poland and the Ukraine they have metal bands like Arkona singing about their heritage, ancestors and gods in their folk dress. And what do we have here? Lame wannabes and their senseless songs in either signature Valley Girl fashion or Afro-American street wear.

There is always the great Francis Magalona of course. But the likes of him are close to extinct. May the Diwata help us.

Tuesday, 2 September 2008

The Great Dance Of Peace

This is one of my favourite dances ever (i
n addition to Singkil and Irish step dancing, of course). The T'aep'yeongmu (literally "great peace dance") is a Korean dance with the function of wishing a great peace for the country. It is usually danced by a queen and her ladies but sometimes a king may join in as well. It is particularly peculiar because whilst the dancers are dressed as royalty the steps and music however are very mudang or shamanistic.

Below are links to a couple of short clips. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
At a theatre
At a fashion show
At a temple
At a summit
At a palace
At a gala