Gallows Humour

Execution Dock at Wapping

One of Saddam's deputies will be getting the big rope burn on Tuesday. Ouch! As Monty Python would say, always look at the bright side of life. Better the hempen collar than the iron Maiden of Nuremberg. In Rwanda, on one of the bad days, while a Catholic priest was supervising the steamrolling of his own church with no little delectation, any parishioners not caught up in the demolition were bribing hutus to shoot them so they wouldn't be hacked to death, piece by piece, by machete-wielding Interahamwe. What can I say? It's just great to be alive, there's no getting around it. Grains of sand leaking out of the hourglass - I'll take that anyday over madame guillotine or a Hutu with a historical chip on his shoulder. Why weep over some Sunni henchman because his criminal overlord wasn't there to cover his ass. It's great to be alive, I'm ecstatic about it, and damned if I'll lose any sleep over Mesopotamia. They had their time, let me have mine.

Imagine what the French must feel like. A nation of regicides. How can you beat that? Everytime a Frenchy gets in a fight with some snooty landlord, or oppressive boss, he can always say, "listen, we settled your file in the Terror, don't think we won't start again." And they all mean it. Down and out in Gaul. You can have your cake, you can even eat it, but you could be going for a stroll in an oxcart in front of a jeering crowd with empty bellies if you're not careful. Ditto for the priesters. Sure, there's still légitimistes around, still a few priests and cardinals lurking on the liturgical feast days, and of course, you can always catch an imam down at the building permits office, lobbying for an extra turret for his mosque. But in Lutetia, the clerical caste are a little more careful about taking on the republicans. There's that lingering doubt that another Fouché is out there, another Robespierre, another Marat, just waiting for a pretext. That blade falling from the sky, and a few whiffs of grapeshot, people don't forget it overnight.

Birds flying high, You know how I feel

Sun in the sky You know how I feel

Breeze driftin' on by,You know how I feel

That's right, baby, It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's a new life. Yee-ha! And maybe the Iraqis are depressed, maybe Mugabe's thugs are punching out old ladies at the airport, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. Maybe that weightlifter does regret pushing over the statue of Saddam Hussein. I don't see the connection. Sure, I have political opinions, who doesn't? But, you gotta watch your step these days, and you got to feel gratitude, if you can live as a free man, and not have to pay any hommage to any of these sons of bitches. You want a clean read, find out what they were doing in their formative years age 15-20, and if they're saving the world when they should be looking for work, they're the dangerous ones. Anybody says, I have the solution to the world's problems, ask him or her how old they are. If they're between 15 and 25, shoot 'em dead and save us all a big headache later on. If they're older, shoot em anyways.

And, if you have a gallows ready, put some Rashaan Roland Kirk on your cd player, and throw the noose over the potence. Vive la France!