Mood: outsane mood
[Toot!] Index: 3.2
Communism Bit: On
Girls, here’s something for you. There is this disease, called Grave’s Disease. The chances are low-ish that you’ll get it. But the reason I’m warning here is because I’m yet to hear of a more-deforming disease that is almost exclusively for girls. As in, maybe it’s not as bad as an amputation (at the neck, for example), but it is not easy to detect it, yet it damages in style. Okay, it’s easy to detect, but you’ll not know what you are detecting. You’ll think you’re just tired, yet your eyes are about to pop out of your head and dangle on a string of nerve.
See, if you ever get shaky hands and legs, and they just shake on their own ...
And your thyroid (the thing slightly below your Adam’s Apple—Eve’s, in your case) starts to swell ...
And your sight is not so clear anymore ... Just a little bit dimmer ...
And you feel really, really tired even when you have done no strenuous stuff ...
I’d guess a note about libido belongs here, but I couldn’t know. You see, I’m only giving you the symptoms we noticed on someone. It’s funny that the Wikipedia page on the disease lists opposite pairs of signs as symptoms, but I guess it is either because the disease is very tricky or because that’s Wikipedia.
Anyway, one big deal must be when you press a thumb into, say, your foot (on the upper side, behind the toes), it dips in for a short while (they could be slightly swollen), and then it returns to normal. It’s called oedema, and you likely know it (aka. dropsy) . I think it tends to get extremities (legs, breasts, arms). That’s the clincher.
Oh, and also flushes. If, suddenly, you’re feeling too bloody hot, then it passes and you’re drenched in sweat.
And you’re a girl past puberty (especially around late twenties, thirties, forties, although other age groups are in risk, too).
You could have Grave’s disease, so run to the doctor. I said Run.
The treatment is drawn out, and takes like two years, with heavy monitoring. Why did I say you should run? By the way, tell all the girls you know. Tell them, because ... it deforms you in rude style. The doctor who treated the case I mentioned, he didn’t work on Saturdays. But we made the call on a Friday night, and he was in office on Saturday morning, because—and these are his words—every minute you take causes severe incremental damage. Minute! (It uses previous damage, it seems. So the more-damaged you are, the more-damaged you get, like that.)
So the doc ran into office that morning, when he wasn’t even supposed to be working.
If you don’t get treated, you turn into a shivering wreck. Your colour changes (into some dark hue that approaches inky black), and your eyes hang nearly out of the sockets, and you have a goitre the size of a Fresian cow’s udder dancing before your neck. If you don’t die, the disease may go away on its own. But you never forget it, and neither does your body. Or anyone, for that matter.
It’s unknown what exactly causes it, but if you get some wound and it gets septic, that could trigger it. (You can’t know which wound; you may not have taken good notice, anyway. A pimple seems to fill the shoes quite well, I think.) And the wound may refuse to heal, as was the case here. Just run to the doctor. As Madea says, Run like ‘ell.
The person of whom I speak, she’s mostly healed now, with no damages. But that was mostly luck. (Trying to gossip on phone, she told her symptoms to someone who knew another case that was no so lucky, maybe for not being a gossip. The other end of the phone line screamed and told her to run to the doctor right away.) As for you, thank your deities that you read my otherwise-useless blog.
But this was too sane. Too out of character with the usual CS&B stuff. Let’s rock dis joint!
I’ve been talking here, that the way the political system of the World is designed doesn’t follow some good principles. As in, when you design something, there is this thing called The Principle of Recursive Design, which says that the parts of the whole must be of the same qualities as the whole.
So, a strong car, if well designed, must have a strong axle, strong nuts, strong body, strong engine. Well-designed trucks look like Doctor Who’s Cybermen.
A water-proof pen must have a water-proof nib and water-proof casing. If it is poor quality (Made in Switzerland, for example), the ink tube will not be water-proof. If it is good quality, the kind that you pay good money for (Made in Uganda, for example), it will have even the ink tube water-proof. Someday, when it goes open while you’re under the sea, you notice that the ink didn’t spill, and you praise Made in Uganda products on your blog, and they become known all over the World.
But let’s not digress. So, the World political system was obviously made in Switzerland. It encourages popular control of the decision making process on the inside of countries, but encourages dictatorship in the relationships between countries. What happened in the dictatorial times is that someone saw what he felt was right, and he imposed it on the lower mortals. The only lower mortals who didn’t bow and thank the dictator for whatever they received were rebels. Rebels don’t obey the dictator, and those who don’t obey become rebels. This we understand very well. The rebels were attacked by the dictator’s military in a bid to over-power them and make them obey. The obedient ones were told that they were good, and that they would not taste the wrath that is handed out to the rebels. They were made to face the rebels and denounce them and shout at them “rebel!”
We overthrew this order, and the world agreed with us. I’m lying. We didn’t, and it didn’t. What happened was that we all knew that there was better. That we could have a real democracy, one where we influenced the decisions that were made over us. Ultimately, we’d choose what happened to us. So we threw the dictator out. This was inside the countries. The dictators we threw out were in many colours, but mostly White. We said we had had enough of Brits going to London and drafting what we should believe in Nairobi and Kampala. We fought. We rebelled. We wanted to own our land. We wanted to eat what came from the sweat that made our earth soggy beneath our feet. If we got any support from the White dictators such as America, it was because they thought If we aren’t the Master there, nobody will be. Other dictators we threw out were like Idi Amin, who was chosen and installed onto the throne by the ones we had fought earlier. (You see, therefore, that the history of unpopular dictatorship in Africa is a creature of the people who invented it, of course, the ones who say we are steeped in a dictatorial culture, the ones who killed us in our thousands when we wanted our land back.)
We didn’t overthrow dictatorship, because it tarries yet. You know what happens when your government writes a budget according to its decisions, right or wrong, if they differ with what the Westerners think is right? The Westerners say No! Silly Native subservients know nothing! Maybe the Native mind is too weak to grasp European wisdom? Is Plato and Keynes and Washington that difficult for the Native economist? Don’t they know that this way that we point is The Way? What’s with this Native and wanting to make independent Decisions, yet not having the Mind for it? We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again: Thinking for the European, Obeying for the Native. We don’t teach the Greek Ancients in your Universities for Nothing.
I mean, I don’t care if we fuck up our economy with our decisions. Let’s do it. The worm, when expelled in faeces, will die, because it has no legs, no eyes, no arms. It has been carried around, made to be a parasite, that it has had no use for independent action. When the dependence ends—not if, but when—the worm can’t survive. That’s what the Native is being made. By what?
By dictatorship. We didn’t overthrow dictatorship, because rules are made in Europe and handed down as decrees. (You shall permit homosexual relationships henceforth. Going against this goes against the Human Rights we taught you about. Don’t mind that the very first clause ever written against homosexuality in Africa was written in Europe by Europeans for Africans to obey.)
Spot the dictator. And, as I said before, the only people who don’t obey the dictators are rebels. If you don’t obey, you’re a rebel, and if you’re a rebel, you don’t obey.
So the dictatorship unleashes might against the rebels. All sorts of decrees that haven’t been obeyed have uncovered rebels. From Pyongyang (being besieged, even as we speak, by the Western dictatorship, but ready to strike with Songun Might under the Brilliant Guidance of the Wise Dear Leader to Defend the Juche Revolution) to La Habana. To Caracas. To Harare, as well. I’ll deal with this in another post, just stay calm for now! :-o Sit down.
When your country doesn’t obey (becomes a rebel, in other words), it is attacked. Budgets, trade sanctions, arms embargoes, et cetera. Spot the dictator. Obey Protestant/Catholic-inspired laws! No, now obey Hedonist pseudo-liberal laws! Je suis le monde, et le monde est moi! What I say, you do! Obey! Maybe we wouldn’t rebel if we had a say in making the choice, but no; it’s by decree. You people aren’t fighting, because you don’t know that next they are going to say the law is that you be their unquestioning shamba slaves. You’ll remember my words, when you grow all the food that the West eats, but survive by licking the sweat of your palms. Freedom’s importance is that only free people can defend freedom. You let them be your masters while you watch their movies and turn into over-painted mimicry clowns and think it makes you cool to know who their entertainers are fucking, trading your freedom for the label of “Good Carbon Copy”, learning to do as they do, as they tell you to do, not knowing that, when situations compel them to, they will tell you to die on their front-lines, because their obese children can’t do this hard work for the empire.
A big war is coming, and empires always use the Natives for this dirty business. Have you learnt nothing? How many more Natives shall be shot in the face, and be brought home unlabelled, only to be told apart by the Western-style partings in their Afros? And we couldn’t have refused to fight, because we didn’t have the freedom to not do as “our country” (Britain! We were Brits! How cool!) wanted us to. “Our flag”, the Union Jack, was at war. Only the free can defend their freedom. It’s this fight you now laugh at, as you read this. Your grandfathers sold their freedom for the opportunity to be deemed Brits. Complete with pinstripe suits and partings in the hair and bowler hats. You remember the King’s African Rifles? The (real) Brits don’t. Your grandfathers died in vain, for that dictatorial Master, while thinking that, at least, they were British. Now, you. You have sold your birthright for bean soup. So you can be called “progressive” and “democratic” and such. In the next war, you’ll want so badly to have the label of “League of the Free” against your country, and “Defenders of Democratic Civilization” (note the z in civilisation). Your city will host a base that belongs to the dictator, and the dictator’s enemy (who you’ve been taught to hate and denounce and call “terrorist” or “communist” or just “non-democratic”—the new terms for the old one, “rebel”) will fire retaliatory nuclear bombs at you, and you will have children who are deformed, with noses on their chins. But at least you’ll be “democratic, free, civilised”.
We can’t have democracy inside the countries, if we do, and not amongst the countries, if we do. This handing down of what should be done, that is dictatorship. The Americans do this, sans batting an eyelid. And then they want to lecture us about democracy. This is not sustainable, and, like all dictatorships, will fall. And when it does, Frantz Fanon will be called “an idealistic romantic poet”. What I mean is that the survivors of that war will be chocking on the bullets that slip into their stew from the cooking body parts of enemy soldiers.