One born every minute
It
seems to happen every couple of months now; a crime so bad, so
reprehensible, that we question our own existence. We look at these
people and we wonder how they can live with themselves, how they can
breathe the same air and walk the same earth as us. Ariel Castro's
name will be added to the annals of infamy alongside other luminaries
like Ed Gein, Peter Sutcliffe and Josef Fritzl. A cruel, cold-hearted
bastard, an animal, a monster. Those with an interest in these
affairs will attempt to psycho-analyse; was it his childhood? A
traumatic event? A chemical imbalance in his brain? What drove this
man to behave like he did? How can one human being have such
disregard for the lives of others?
I'm
probably the least scientific person you're likely to meet, I
struggle to understand how condensation works. But in the case of
Castro and others like him I can't help but feel they're born rather
than made. So what if his mother didn't love him? Thousands of people
suffer similarly appalling childhoods, but only a handful turn out
like he has. Some people are just born evil and that's all there is
to it. The same way that some people are born with a sexual
preference and the same way that some are born with an in-built
predilection for certain vices. We can't change this, it's just who
we are. Ariel Castro is beyond help, he is beyond reasoning. We can
never understand his mindset or the things which drove him to do what
he did. Not that it'll stop us trying.
Long live the King
Amid all the eulogies for Sir Alex
and the endless montages in his honour I couldn't help but feel a
frisson of excitement. Yes I was distraught at the idea of the great
man leaving us, life without his mechanical jaw chewing vigorously on
that gum seemed inconceivable. But the nature of football is that
successes are quickly forgotten about, there is always a new
challenge ahead, always something to look forward to. And after some
initial misgivings I am looking forward to the David Moyes era. He
wouldn't have been my choice but I can understand why the club have
plumped for the dour Scot.
He might not have the star quality
of Mourinho or the charisma of Klopp but what he brings is stability.
Eleven years at Everton working under sometimes impossible
circumstances point to a man not likely to buckle under pressure.
When was the last time you heard of a controversy surrounding Everton
Football Club? Can't remember? No, me neither. This is a man who runs
a tight ship. A man who places the utmost trust in his players and
expects the same in return. Remind you of anyone? But Moyes is his
own man, and despite getting the job on Fergie's recommendation he
will be keen to stamp his own imprint on United from the off. And how
he does so will, perversely, depend on Sir Alex. Fergie will have
learned from the mistakes made by Sir Matt, how his presence proved
detrimental to those that followed, and he will endeavour to ensure
they are not repeated.
We're great we are
What is it with those fuckin' langer
eh? Think they're great lads so they do? The rebel county, the true
capital of Ireland, blah blah blah blah. If yeer so great how come ye
can't build a county that doesn't submerge at the sight of a few
raindrops? Eh? Weren't expecting that one were ye? Anyway now that ye
have yeer very own Rebel passports maybe it'll make it easier for ye
to fuck off out of the country when the Lee inevitably floods its
banks for the umpteenth time. Sadly these specially commissioned CorkRebel Week Passport's are merely symbolic and are not recognised by
anyone that really matters.
I know Corkonians would just fuckin'
love to be going through customs waving their big red Cork passports
in every one's faces but, for the time being at least, they'll have to
make do with Irish ones. I actually like Cork and it's people, lived
there for a few years and a finer city you couldn't find. Apart from,
let me see, New York, London, Paris, Beirut, Addis Ababa, the lost
city of Atlantis and Kilkenny. I'm sure this civic pride has
deep-rooted meaning and all that but it gets a little tiresome after
a spell. Self-praise is no praise at all lads remember that. Ye have
a lovely city, cute little voices and a couple of half decent GAA
teams but steady on eh?
The
wheels on the bus go round and round
I am an extensive user of public
transport and on many occasion I have had cause to complain about the
services provided by Bus Eireann and the CIE group. Sour-pussed
drivers, faulty heating and chronic tardiness are all a part of life
when using national transport in Ireland. Oh and not forgetting the
extortionate prices charged to travel up and down our tiny little
country. It strikes me as odd that the members of the National Bus
and Railways Union (NBRU) are the first public sector workers to
strike. Because, although some might disagree, they are by far the
most dispensable. I realise that the lack of these services will have
a huge impact on the lives of people up and down the country. But
compare that to the anarchy which would surely prevail if nurses or
the Gardaí went on strike.
Both of those parties have been
treated like shit by the Government in recent times. However both
understand how crucial their presence is to the state. And in
understanding this they have taken hits to their livelihood so as not
to upset the apple cart. They have maintained their integrity and
continued to provide as best a service as they can, and what do they
get for it? Less money, longer hours and an ungrateful public. I
sympathise with the plight of those at the NBRU and I sincerely hope
they get what they're due. But I can't help feeling that their
actions are at best unguided and at worst disrespectful. There are
far more worthy causes within the public sector who, if given the
opportunity, would relish the downing of tools, but sadly in their
case this is not an option.
I studied his story not History
For reasons unknown to myself I
never studied History in Secondary School. My decision probably
boiled down to what my mates were doing and how big the course book
was. The irony is that now, long past my Leaving Cert days, I have a
keen interest in all things historical and wish I'd taken the subject
beyond Primary School. Have I suffered because of this? I think I
have, many's the time I've been involved in a heated discussion about
the exploits of ancient political leaders only to be left red-faced
and contrite after getting my information completely wrong. Try as I
may I haven't got the grounding in this topic that those fortunate
enough to study it at second level do.
So the Education Minister's decision
to downgrade History as a non-compulsory subject for the Junior Cert
can only be a bad thing – by the way what kind of a fucking school
did I go to where it wasn't even compulsory fifteen years ago! Of
course the subject that should be removed is Irish *dons tin hat as
the Gaeltacht vents its spleen. What use is it to the majority of
students? Unless you plan to get a job with TG4 then not much use at
all. But you can't say that because it goes against everything our
ancestors fought for. How dare you suggest we stop teaching our kids
Irish?! I suppose you'll be telling us to stop fighting for the six
counties next? No, I wouldn't, probably because I don't know enough
about it. If only I'd done History in school.
A grey day for mankind
At the age of 24 I made a quite
startling discovery. No, no it wasn't my first encounter with a naked
female (that came much later) it was the sight of something which I
hadn't expected to see for years to come. A big fuck-off grey hair.
There he was, right by my temple, smiling away at me. At first I
thought it was just a trick of the mind. The sun was shining on my
hair at a funny angle, I reassured myself, sure I couldn't be going
grey yet. But a few weeks later he had a pal on the other side of my
head. The bastards are multiplying, I thought to myself, pretty soon
they'll take over completely. And that was what I thought. Afraid to
share my experience I envisaged a white shock of hair by the time I
reached thirty, the last vestige of my youth disappearing before my
very eyes.
But it doesn't work like that. Now,
ten years on, I have a smattering of grey but I remain as tall, DARK
and handsome as ever. Hurrah. But it won't last forever. Or will it?
Professor Karin Schallreuter thinks it might. A cure is at hand it
would seem. No more George Clooneys, no more Phillip Schofields and
no more worried Simon Bourkes looking at the mirror in dismay. I
should be delighted, the chance to maintain an even coloured mane of
hair for the rest of my days. But for some reason I'm not all that
bothered. I see my grey hair as a badge of honour, proof that I've
done some living. Take that away from me and my silver siblings and
we'll all just look the same. Mind you it's easy for me to say that now, if things carry on the way
they are I'll most likely be purchasing some of this miracle cure the
minute it hits the shops.
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