Archive for September, 2005

US Military tops itself (yet again)


Oh lord, how?

I’m actually in the middle of reading Jon Ronson’s “The Men Who Stare At Goats“, and an article from The Guardian caught my eye. Here’s a synopsis:

It may be the oddest tale to emerge from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Armed dolphins, trained by the US military to shoot terrorists and pinpoint spies underwater, may be missing in the Gulf of Mexico.

Hey, weirder things have happened. Maybe.




Tim LaHaye & Jerry B. Jenkins This evening, I saw a great documentary called “The God Who Wasn’t There“. In it, the main maker of said documentary, starts with an image of the Sun. Then, you get to see Earth circling it. “But”, a narrating voice tells us, “it wasn’t always that way”, he continues. “The Sun used to revolve around the Earth, it was like that for hundreds of years, until it was discovered to be otherwise – and, even, for a few hundred years after that. But, ultimately, after much kicking and screaming, the Earth did, in fact, begin to revolve around the Sun. Christianity was wrong about the solar-system. What if it’s wrong about something else, too? This movie is about what happened when I went looking for Jesus.”

From an actual web-site, ladies and gentlemen. That’s the voice of Brian Flemming, the man who made the documentary. In it, he goes looking for the truth behind Christianity. It’s quite the interesting doc, and I don’t want to give too much away, but this is a snippet of what it contains:

In this provocative, critically acclaimed documentary, you will discover:

The early founders of Christianity seem wholly unaware of the idea of a human Jesus

The Jesus of the Gospels bears a striking resemblance to other ancient heroes and the figureheads of pagan savior cults

Contemporary Christians are largely ignorant of the origins of their religion

Fundamentalism is as strong today as it ever has been, with an alarming 44% of Americans believing Jesus will return to earth in their lifetimes

And God simply isn’t there

Well, there you go.

Wait, I’m not through. The interesting part of this is where Sam Harris says something like: “If a person says he or she is a great surgeon, that he/she has come up with ground-breaking surgical methods and would like to practice them, you would probably go ‘Well, let’s see your scientific evidence for it’, and if that person tells you he/she can’t show it to you, that said practices are felt and not scientifically proven, he/she’d get laughed out the room. But that doesn’t happen to people of faith.”

The power of faith is indeed strong, and at times runs over the intellect without stopping. At work today, a bunch of my colleagues and myself sat around a table, where we discussed issues. Once again, we slipped into the old man-vs-woman stuff. In Sweden, there’s a new political organisation, called Feministiskt Initiativ (Fi, for short). When they first arrived on the political scene, just a few months ago, people started stirring almost immediately, throwing quotes and images making me recall Valerie Solanas’ “S.C.U.M. Manifesto”. I didn’t care much about the organisation at first, until people started talking shit incessantly about them. I decided to check their web-page out, where they’ve got their agenda written down. Anyway, about Fi: I haven’t heard as many distorted quotes and pre-conceptions about a Swedish political organisation (or even a party), since Ny Demokrati, a very short-lived anti-immigrant party, came along and flaunted such themselves. Fi is, according their official web-page, a non-profit organisation that place feministic questions first, when it comes to the political agenda.

Mind you, I’ve found that a lot of people cannot define feminism. I have met many people who’ve instantly retorted a “Everybody knows that!” but cannot explain the term. What it actually means, is a point of view stating that men and women should be equal, in social, political and economical senses. Does anybody say that should not be the case? Thought you’d agree with me. Many Swedish political parties say that they obviously share that feministic sentiment of Fi, even though they don’t say it as loud. Now, the problem is that Swedish women still are very much second to men, when it comes to quoted “obvious stands”. Of course, this means that feminism still does not yet truly exist in Sweden.

Back to the milieu at the tableu. Usually, I find that people say things hap-hazardly. I do it myself, but I can stand corrected with no error, if that’s the case. Caught red-handed not knowing what to say? No problem, I’ll gladly admit my mistake and move on, taking something of value with me. The problem is not that I think many people don’t know what to believe about Fi. My problem is that ignorance isn’t stopping a lot of them to accuse, and even slander them without a thought about facts. Here are a few of the quotes from the people around the table at this specific time:

  • Fi wants to fight for women only to have the right to work 6 hours a day
  • Tiina Rosenberg (one of the members of the board) has said that women who sleep with men are gender-traitors
  • “What damn bitches they are.”

Except that I didn’t ask the person who called them bitches to explain away, the rest had to. The first quote quickly turned into “Well…maybe it’s Vänsterpartiet (=Swedish leftist party) that said so”, which is also wrong, and the other one is simply jibberish. Check out this interview (in Swedish) with Rosenberg, who by the way is a Professor in Gender Sciences, where she debunks that quote (among a lot of other pap, plus writes about receiving death-threats just because she’s a member of the board in the most popular Swedish feministic organisation).

I told the person who called them bitches that I understood Fi thoroughly through their web-site and that I think their politics make more sense than that of any of the current Swedish major parties. I also told said person that even though Fi want to attain a feministic society by destroying the patriarchal system we live according to, today, it’s equivalent of any struggle where the discriminated want to destroy the evil that’s opposing them. In this case, they want to destroy a really bad thing, of course. As a parallel, I suggested Iraqis who fight for their life against American forces. My dear colleague said “That’s not a good comparison” to which I said “Why not?” to which he said nothing. Dead silence.

Once again, here’s something felt, but not scientifically proven. One doesn’t have to be a demi-God to ask for proof. If there is none, rest assured a person who says he/she’s telling the truth, is probably lying.

So the bitch was, in fact, he.



Fucking morons, give me my food


As you might have noticed by looking at the title for a nano-second, I am extremely angry at the moment. You see, I, as many others, have a one hour lunch break. No more! That hour is of great importance and without it I would not stand a chance at even surviving the day. There are many reasons why I really love lunch. Mainly because it is free time. Time you can spend talking, reading, relaxing or jamming a fork into a vendor machine. Whatever. This is not the entire thing though. The other thrilling thing about lunch break that I like is, hold your hat because you are in for a big surprise, the food. Yeah, it is true! As I skip breakfast almost everyday, I really look forward to engaging in unconditional wolfing of different foods. Choosing what food shall be consumed is also somewhat of a concept in itself. It is carefuly arranged democratically at work, as all the participants have one vote each and place them on whatever restaurant they want to eat at. All this happens verbally so do not think that me and my colleagues have actual campaigns with slogans, fake promises and conversations with God.

Since the chosen foods the past week had sucked I was really looking forward to todays choice. Word on the street was that it was Thai Food that the other colleagues were dreaming of. This thrilled me as I am a great fan of that particular food genre. Time lapses and the votes are being counted. Thai for the win!!! On our way in the car, I ask about the payment policies of the restaurant. To my dissapointment I am told that they do not accept credit cards-> Only cash my friend. We pull over for me to make a cash withdrawal. Bare in mind that the lunch break consists of 60 minutes. That is ONE hour. Problematic? Imagine Ed Bradley being a bitch for a certain amount of time. Now you know. Anyhow, the ATM was out of order so we had to keep going. Another stop is made and I go out to do my business (not to urinate) but this machine is out of order aswell. Back into the car, this time onward to the actual restaurant where we had heard rumors that there was supposed to be an ATM near by. I jump out at the scene but I can not seem to find the ATM. After screening the area I realise it is because of the HUGE line of people waiting to make cash withdrawals, in front of the ATM I am looking for! I get in line and wait for about 20minutes. When the old crack lady in front of me is done I insert my visa card rapidly, ready to input my code faster than a motherfucker, only to be welcomed by the text. “CONNECTION TO BANK LOST, OUT OF ORDER”

Completely outraged, my thoughts immediately land on the people ahead of me in the line. Why had they not mentioned this? Stupid morons I have 15minutes left of my lunch now, simply because they did not bother to tell the other people in the line of the erronous ATM. Fucking idiots. Is this an ancient phenomenon? If not, it means that people actually used to take the two seconds of time to, in a authoritarian voice, say “THE MACHINE IS OUT OF ORDER”. So if that is true, at what point did people stop doing that? Are they still doing it, only that I am the most unlucky motherfucker roaming this earth? Let me quote the title, “fucking morons”.

Pissed off and hungry I run to the car to explain the situation. One of the guys lends me money, we buy the food, go back to work and eat it up as fast as we can, with NO time for satisfaction of taste or hunger. I just shoved it down and on top of all this, I think the chef took it personal when I asked him to spice up my food, because I am still hyperventilating with tears in my eyes. Oh, I forgot, I did not get time to buy snuff so I have been without that for three hours now.

 Death to the people


/Frans Narcisius

Lekar, attraktion och likgiltighet


Häromveckan befann jag mig på ett icke så anständigt hak här i staden där jag bor. Mitt mål med tillställelsen var att lyssna på musik, avnjuta rusdrycker och ev. träffa en handfull av intressanta människor. Förfest hölls i traditionsenlig anda och kvällen rullade på i full fart. För att underlätta läsarens ack så svåra uppgift (att förstå), känner jag att jag måste avlasta en liten hemlighet jag bär på; Jag hatar kvinnor.

Innan du kavlar upp ärmarna och laddar din harpun vill jag att du låter mig förklara. Och nej, jag hatar inte kvinnor i brist på annat eller för att jag är chauvanist (vilket jag faktiskt inte är). Alla kvinnor står naturligtvis inte måltavla för mitt hat men mitt extrema ordval bottnar i ilska så lugna dig. Dimman är påtaglig och feministiska slagord viner i luften! Jag dodgar dem och förklarar snabbt utan att tveka, jag hatar (vissa)kvinnor för att de ofta väljer att placera sig själva inom ramar av betéenden som jag omöjligen kan bemöta på ett “rätt” sätt. När jag skriver “rätt” menar jag givetvis det sätt som kvinnan i fråga har förväntat sig och vill se som resultat av sitt beteende. Eller har de ens en avsikt? Ibland är det väldigt lätt att bara avfärda krogkvinnans betéende som någon form av ritual i kölvattnet av ett sjukt begär att få känna MAKT.

Exempel: Jag minns såväl ett tillfälle på ytterligare ett icke så anständigt hak för ett par år sedan. Dansgolvet är fullt så jag och mitt sällskap(sex killar) bestämmer oss för att delta. Vi dansar och har roligt varpå en okänd skönhet närmar sig och verkligen gör klart för mig vad som komma skall. Hon rör sig väldigt snyggt och dansen är till en början inbjudande men går snart över till fullskalig kroppskontakt. Alkoholiserad som jag var (skulle gjort det nykter anytime) hakade jag givetvis på och den enda logiska reaktionen jag kunde tänka på var att ta för mig. Vid mitt första försök att göra exakt det hon gjort i två minuter så visar skönheten den allt för populära gesten “talk to the hand”, knuffar mig så jag ramlar och startar en orgie av skratt med sina närvarande vänner. Chockerad som jag var, ställer jag mig upp och tittar mig omkring. Allas blickar är på mig och trots den pumpande musiken så hör jag folkets skratt. Chocken och oförståelsen går ganska snabbt över till ren ilska över att ha blivit kränkt så jag tar ett Dirty Harry grepp om hennes blus framifrån, lyfter henne och knuffar henne över hennes kompisar. Skrattet tystnade och det dröjde inte länge innan allt var precis som det var innan.

Med det här exemplet avklarat så tror jag att du lättare kan förstå om vem jag pratar när jag beskriver den här konstiga ramen av betéenden många kvinnor följer.

För att återgå till kvällen jag tidigare berättade om. Inpå småtimmarna börjar känna mig nöjd över kvällen utan dåligt samvete över illa spenderad tid. Utanför stället kommer en kvinna fram och hälsar. Min reaktion var givetvis positivt så vi började prata om världen och alla ytliga ting kring den. Trots att min signalapparat, vars syfte är att tolka kvinnors avsikter, hammrades sönder av en tonårspatriotisk tjej för många år sen, förstod jag att den här kvinnan var extremt intresserad av mig. Utan att tänka mer på whatever började vi hångla. Det var kul och allt vad det innebär. Efter en kvarts hångel frågar hon.

– Var jobbar du någonstans?

Fyra mil härifrån i en annan stad.

– Varför då?

Min första reaktion var att hon skämtade men hennes fullt allvarliga blick förvirrade mig. Vadå varför då? Jag svarade lite komiskt;

Företaget inte ville flytta hit när jag sökte jobbet så nu får jag pendla varje dag.

– Pendla? Va taskigt.

Va? Taskigt? Hur kan det vara taskigt när jag själv valt att arbeta i en annan stad än min egen. Desto mer jag tillät
mina tankar attackera hennes kommentarer, i hopp om att upptäcka någon form av halvtaskig sarkasm djupt begraven i ett brunt hjärnmembran någonstans, desto mer distansierades glädjen över sällskapet och den där spänningen jag just känt. När jag slutligen insett att hon onekligen kunde haft någon agenda, ville jag bara göra en sak. Gå hem. Jag säger inte att jag plötsligt såg ner på människan, men all attraktion och intresse försvann utan att ta farväl. Hon fällde ett par repliker som indikerade på att hon ville bibehålla kontakten och ev. gå vidare tillsammans men jag väjde undan och gick hem.


Slutsatsen av den här historien är följande.

Oavsett om du är kvinna eller man, kränker du mig så nitar jag dig.


/Frans Narcisius