Monday, 1st September 2008
YOU CAN TELL IT’S SUMMER
They call it the Silly Season, the Dog Days and various other epithets – I just call it “I wish it was over” – but you can tell it’s summer by the way the papers seem to have to fill themselves up with stuff which is, not to put too fine a point on it, marginal.
Actually, the Sundays are usually pretty full of that sort of stuff anyway, given that the editors have to source what seems to be skip-loads of produce in order to fill up around the advertising. What with Sunday Supplements falling out of the main body of the paper like leaves on a windy autumn day and all those colour mags telling us who married whom (perhaps a follow-up series, Who Left Whom, would be an idea – they can advertise second mortgages and swinging single bars) there’s an appetite for the printed word that seems to be unquenchable. Or is that unsatisfiable? I’m sure Pedants-R-Us will let me know.
That being as it may be, on the long trip down to Sa Maison on Monday morning, which is when I am writing this, it having been deemed a nice change to take the longer boat ride back from Gozo, I glanced through the Other Sunday, which ‘Er Indoors had brought along for the ride.
One of the full-pagers that appears to be a new feature was something written by a Robert Cachia, which at first glance seemed to be a travel advertorial, one of the ones I tend to skim through. I was wrong, though, because he was having a rant at Daphne Caruana Galizia, who had been having a rant about the Maltese language. It sounded a bit like a philosophy exam I had once written, where I had the nerve to criticise people who had criticised Freud, mainly because I had only ever read the critics and not the original. This chap was lambasting DCG, who needs no defence from me whatever the Lil’Elves might say, and to bolster his argument he regaled us with a couple of nuggets in Minglish from ladies of the type I would classify as “ladies who tennis”.
Sadly for Mr Cachia, his argument fell down somewhat because the nuggets were so abysmally horrendous that they fell into the “you couldn’t make it up” category, prompting people like me to think that they were, actually, made up. We then got a couple of columns about the development of the Maltese language and why goal should be spelt gowl, as if couching this in quasi-academic terms made the horrendousness any less horrid. The dear chap went on to laud Ryanair to high heavens and to moan and groan about the racket that ensues whenever a saint is praised – he was talking about the fireworks, not the blasphemy, though the line was not entirely clearly drawn.
On the facing page, a more prestigious one in lay-out terms, one Max Farrugia had drawn himself up to what one assumes was his full height to defend Medjugorje in the light of attacks on it by the Brit tabloid press, which itself was reporting what itself (i.e. the tabloid press) had reported to be attacks on the place and its attendant miracles by the Vatican.
Precisely what, why and wherefore all this fuss escapes me: anyone who wants to believe the miracle of Medjugorje will believe it, come hell, high water, His Holiness or the Sunday Sport, while anyone who doesn’t, won’t, whether he or she is told to by His Holiness, the Sunday Sport or me. For myself, massed hysteria and mysticism by the coach-load lends itself to summer diversions in the form of Dan Brown-style novels, the ones that you read, enjoy and then consign to dust-gathering duties in the bookshelf. There’s some enjoyable stuff by Steven Berry on these lines, which actually takes the Medjugorje apparitions (or whatever) as the basis for revealing the Third Secret of Fatima. I won’t reveal the ending, since you might want to have a read of it: suffice it to say that His Grace the Bishop of Gozo might find the bases for his recent sermon somewhat eroded.
Moving on apace, on the next page, back-to-back with the potted theology, there’s the slightly smirking visage of Howard Hodgson, who I find mildly irritating in the way he seems to know everything about everything and seems to have made it his life’s mission to tell the Prime Minister how to run the country. That’s his right, of course, as it is every columnist’s, but what Smiley should realise is that there’s only room for one know-it-all in this country, and it ain’t him.
There’s plenty more, but the ferry is about to dock, so that’s all for this week, folks. I know this is a shorter blog than usual (contain yourselves) and there’s not much with which the Lil’Elves might amuse themselves, but hey, it’s the Silly Season.
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Comments
I cannot see any connection between the woman spewing blasphemy after a band march, on a street far removed from the band march route and the same woman carrying on in the same manner during an MLP meeting. Had the latter happened and the PN media reported it, it would not have been a spin, otherwise you infer that reporting news is spin.
If there was any spinning in this case it was by your esteemed self since you chose to make an inference which is quite hypothetical in nature. By the way, the woman was NOT drunk.
While in Malta, I chose to spend the month on 'holidays' , for the most part staying away from reading papers and discussing politics.
On my return to my second home and having to go to the 'Back Issues' of the two English dailies, I almost regret not having followed the news. Too late to catch up now.
I am flattered that in one of the blogs, you had inquired about my whereabouts. Truth is, had I a bit more time, I would have knocked on your door and claimed my Cisk.
Needless to say, I.M. Back
Festa band marches do not qualify as "religious celebration".
The "lady" in the festa band march at St Julians was most probably drunk. What is your excuse?
Il-Lallu, just imagine the PN alliance media reporting it the following day and spinning it in such a way to portray all the Labour Party supporters as a sacrilegious lot.Il-lallu ballu, imagine!
I hope your remarks are of the 'tongue in cheek variety'
@ Charles J Buttigieg
"Will get back to you later" .. Is that an ominious warning? Nice back yard you have. I hope your bbq went well.
@ Dr. Saliba
I wish alcohol could have been an excuse.
Sooooo nice to see you here again. Will get back to you later.
The blaspheming lady (what a contradiction in terms!) had probably cleaned her cranial thermostat with alcohol. Let us pray that under normal conditions she behaves in a more ladylike fashion.
I started with a mild expletive simply because during my month long sojourn among my countrymen (and women) this expression seems to be widely used. This 'lallu' bit, is far milder than my unfortunate experience with one younger woman who, after the Friday band march in St. Julian's paraded the street swearing horrendous blasphemy against the Tabernacle, the Virgin Mary, the holy Church and all its saints, for no apparent reason. For my feeble attempt to shut her up, I received some irreverent advice and a barrage of yet more foul language. For my own health and since she was accompanied by two male youths, I went on my way with head hung in shame. Oh! The silly season of Summer, I thought. This woman's cranial thermostat must have gone off scale.
Since I refuse to drive when in Malta, for obvious reasons, I make use of the bus (dis)service and in this regard, I will comment elsewhere since 200 words at a go will certainly not suffice. Minister Gatt had better hone his skills and rid the island of this band of lawless cowboys.
My remarks on the previous post were not directed to any particular person, I was being generic. It seems to have become a national past-time for people to be judgemental.
Quote: Dan Brown-style novels, the ones that you read, enjoy and then consign to dust-gathering duties in the bookshelf unquote.
Only true to a certain extent. The gospels of Thomas, MM, etc, the resistance to Vatican Council 2 coupled with an unsuccessful attempt by the incumbent pope to re-introduce the Latin mass, etc etc linger in the thoughts of so many as the impact of such thoughts on the catholic psyche will never be fully valued. Books may be gathering dust, but certainly not their ensuing impact...
Reading detective stories, court room drama and politically intriguing stories is my pet hobby but I do not profess to be some ace criminal-profiler with his\her attendant scientific answers. Nor am I a spin doctor.
Moreover, to instil unwarranted doubts on an already traumatised person is definitely against my Christian nature.
In my previous comments I had expressed an unbiased view of a free thinker, no more no less; I will now allow the competent authorities to get on with their professional investigations
The finger tip had been bought for $100 from an injured co-worker of the husband and planted in the served food. The husband was sentenced to 12 years imprisonment and the wife for 9 years. The Wendy restaurant had to appeal for customers to return.
as a silly prank?
by someone with a grudge against the caterers or importers?
by someone who covets the catering contract?
by one of those who have made it their mission in life to criticise everything connected with
the Mater Dei Hospital?
That could explain why the mouse head was not detected until it finished on the plate and why the public health authorities would not find anything amiss. In the meantime reputations of importers, caterers, hospital canteens would be put in jeopardy unjustly without and unnecessary alarm caused throughout the island.
Let us not pour petrol on the flames.
.
Just a premonition, just a premonition and I have such a suspicious nature. The Mater Dei story has too many similarities and coincidences with that that of Finland. Click here to peruse: http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/01/27/2147364.htm
Supplier-Belgian both counts.
Material- Frozen veg. Ditto.
Find- mouse head. Ditto
Venue- Hospitals. Ditto
In Finland- found by a patient
In Malta- by a nurse.
If the Malta police do not smell a rat in this I’m sure Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Clusoe would.
To the nurse involved:
There's only thing to do in this situation...
USE YOUR (Mouse) HEAD.....!!!
Personally I would put the blame on the person who is responsible to ascertain that all the raw material is washed and inspected before it goes on the burners. We do that at home and sometimes we find a full variety of foreign objects varying from little snails, creepy-crawly things to small pebbles
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/01/27/2147364.htm
We can't really say 'Only in Malta...'
Maybe IM Beck should try eating at Mater Dei Restaurant they have a Special offer. One mice head free with every salad bowl.
. Aqbaduli
Oqtoluli
Armihuli il-ġurdien
Ma kienx kbir
Kien tal-imramma
ċkejken kien
Aqbaduli
Oqtoluli
Armihuli il-ġurdien
X'qatgħa tagħni
U kif hassni
ħass ħażin!
The number of national days are to me a source of mild embarrassment.
Proposal:
Independce Day should be a natural choice. Yet the argument that the day was only half-baked is not without substance.
Freedom day is seen as the day when the 21st matured into full-blown Maltese independence within the Commonwealth,
I therefore suggest that Independence Day should be our only National Day that will be celebrated on the 31st March.
I fully understand the general round of rasps that ideas such as this attract.
And I always relish the moment a couple of years down the line if someone should stumble on the 'brilliant' idea to celebrate Independence day on the 31st March being our only National Day...so there you are, a seed sown. Will it sprout in a couple of years time?
Nahh
By the way, Wonderful Gozo should be the next topic in this blog.
Berba is Red, while Robino went to the City! Maybe ABC is no longer interested in the game of football. Long time ago a certain Borg Cardona formed part of the GFA before he left Gozo for good. I wonder!
Since the last of Sant's "Pr" contributions have now been reduced to pulp ready for recycling, I wonder who can lay claim to that know-it-all spot. :-)
You didn't have enough time to check the Sports section? What about Chelsea :)