Rajiv in the Clutches of Drugs

Sometimes, through the labyrinths of the World Wide Web, information emerges from nowhere that is wonderful in its bizarreness and comedy. One such is the subject of the evening banter...It is no secret that drug addicts are willing to go that extra mile in order to satisfy their addiction, reduce their mental or physical pain and make their existence easier in this, above all, sad and cruel world.

But some of them are especially creative in their search for pleasure. Since the prices of narcotics and means that change perception are state-protected in their maniacal overestimation (to the eternal joy of numerous dealers) - the junkie is a living devil, managing as he knows and can and sometimes as he does not know and cannot. One such extreme story comes from brotherly India, the democracy with the most voters on the planet, a country of organized chaos and a contender to dethrone the People's Republic of China as the territory with the largest number of taxpayers in the world.

In that India, in the famous city of Amritsar in the state of Punjab, known for several dramatic events during the British Raj and the center of the bizarre religion of Sikhism (something like the Sikh Vatican, the `Golden Temple` is located there) - a drug addict was walking down the street...That drug addict named Lal Giridari, all desperate and unhappy because of not having money to buy opium or hashish or weed - his usual drugs, was slowly falling into madness, fighting attacks of delirium, with an imaginary stick he was driving away his paranoia...

Not knowing what to do to get high, Lal was thinking whether to steal alcohol from somewhere or steal something small and resell it...when on a wall in front of his eyes a lizard appeared, carefreely walking up and down. Lal followed the lizard with his eyes and, being unusually irritated by its movements (!?), he caught it with his hands, put it in his mouth and started chewing it...

This, in its desperation an unusually original move - unexpectedly brought deliverance from the torments of the Junkie veteran, the fifty-something year-old Mr. Giridari. No, he did not poison himself but on the contrary, he slowly began to feel an unusually euphoric mood enhanced by a feeling of happiness and fulfillment. In a word, Lal got high. Or to put it in the words of a random average moron - `he got high`. From a lizard...And so this humble ex-rickshaw driver finally found a way to get a free trip. Considering that lizards were not at all rare in that area, it meant that Lal had a lifetime supply to satisfy his needs for entering an alternative reality!

As it turned out, it was a creature called a `Spiny tailed lizard` that supposedly contained a certain substance in its skin that provided an almost instant effect when chewed. This dramatic and, in world terms, completely irrelevant history came to light in some media outlets when Lal ended up in a drug rehabilitation clinic as the first case in the world of a character who had been cured of eating - lizards!

This meant that this man was a particularly addictive character, someone who would become addicted to counting poles on the way to his hut. And thanks to this news - throughout Punjab and beyond - a small but growing population of drug addicts followed Lal's path and began to eat lizards. This habit was especially popular in prisons where not only lizards but also various snakes and other reptiles were preyed upon by desperate prisoners and their desperate need to escape, if nothing else, at least through the corridors of the brain...

(Roger Mortis, 128)

Collective Fears

It's not exactly the best time for a rant, but the inability to sleep today is taking its toll and the brain, as usual, is compensating for the physical inactivity during this period by working overtime, burning calories 24/7 and escaping to some strange alleys. I would even say that I have learned to be proud of the contents of my modest brain.

And so... I listen daily to the media, in conversations with neighbors, relatives and acquaintances, I read in newspapers and virtual platforms and whatever I hear and see - the fear of Jihad that the refugees from the Levant brought with them has settled everywhere. Quite naturally, as an instinctive reaction when a man is looking for a cute female person - I feel like hitting them with a hammer, changing my name to Pol Pot and starting a campaign of revolutionary re-education that will be carried out in the Prespa and Ovchepole fields.

And why such an outburst of hatred?

Because the kingdom does not live in reality. Sometimes from collective fears, which are currently caused by the Jihad that is just knocking on the door. How many kingdoms have suffered as a result of jihadism in the Republic of Khunzistan and in the Balkans in general is not known. But it is well known how much they suffer from the real mass murderers, the cancerous diseases that are spreading more and more, diabetes has become something that is understood in almost every family, cardiovascular diseases are killing as usual, stress and nerves due to everyday life are taking huge tolls, paradise would completely fall apart if it were not for the chemicals called legal drugs that they swallow every day like candy, mental illnesses are growing into an epidemic, suicide has acquired the right to citizenship, due to the retarded driving habits of the devout population, paradise is killed every year as many as would be killed if an entire Boko Haram brigade were to be carried to these regions, your compatriot, co-religionist and fellow citizen asks you to return 30 euros in cash from the 150 that he has to pay you as the minimum wage, daily humiliations in a workplace where people die every day and everyone is left crippled for life, a healthcare system that is already starting to raise doubts about whether it is here for to save or ruin lives...

Those who have had the misfortune to remain unlucky for one reason or another are socially isolated to the extent that they die quietly without the noise of a gunshot or without bloody scenes in the showered partnership with a person with whom you are emotionally or sexually involved - are a total failure in most cases and another geyser of misery. And the people worry that Jihad would kill them?!

Which means that if the population were not so detached from reality and from real everyday threats to health and life - one would expect bombastic headlines in the media like - `Heart attacks and strokes have killed x people this year!`, `Diabetes is stalking you, reduce your sugar intake!`, `Don't torture the people you claim to love, only evil comes from that!`, `New case of death of a construction worker who fell from scaffolding, reporters are on the spot!`, `Don't cheat on your girlfriend because you will hurt her a lot and suffering is already being exported, it's not worth it` or at least something along the lines of `Public condemnation of Trpe D. for driving like a maniacal imbecile under the influence of alcohol!`. No, there is none of that, there is only a mass fear of an undefined, alleged or totally invented danger. Them Hobgoblins & the menace.

All of the above-mentioned dangers are infinitely less prevalent in public discourse than phantom threats. Talk about Syria, Russia, and other crap far outweighs talk about some real danger that the interlocutors will likely suffer from at some point in the near or distant future. Or that they will bury someone close to them because of it...It's funny to me that I'm saying all of this, something that should be Captain Obvious in all its glory, especially as a person who believes that collective identity and patriotism are mental illnesses. Either I'm completely out of my mind or the majority has long since gone downhill and one no longer has a choice and has to put up with their irrational bullshit that is an obvious symptom of collective fears.

There is no third option.

(Roger Mortis, 127)

The Big Secret of Moses

Evil can incarnate in many forms, but arguably one of the most ferocious is the form of organized religion, or rather the form of monotheism. Since all things in the world have a beginning and an end, monotheism also has a beginning. And the end? Who knows...

Where did that nasty phenomenon begin, in whose head such an idea was initially conceived, or more importantly, who was the one who first transferred the idea from his head to reality, perhaps unaware of what evil it would unleash and blacken humanity? According to many sources, monotheistic (Abrahamic) religions have their roots in ancient Egypt and the trail leads to Pharaoh Amenophis IV (later he himself rebranded himself as Akhenaten - the Holy Spirit of Aten, because Aten = the solar disk). The ancient historians Manetho, Strabo, Tacitus and Lysimachus write about Moses as an Egyptian.

The Bible (Exodus) does not deny that Moses (or Moses, his Egyptian name in Greek) was in Egypt, and this is wrapped up in some story that as a baby of slaves he was adopted by an Egyptian princess(!?). For a baby of a slave to reach the Pharaoh's crown prince at that time...that seems a bit far-fetched, or better said - impossible.

There is also the hymn of Aten, very similar to certain Old Testament writings...Moreover, in what language are the Ten Commandments written at all? In what language did Yahweh send the commandments to Moses? The commandments, in themselves suspiciously similar to those that already existed in the Egyptian Book of the Dead...At that time there was no Hebrew script, and the only script that Moses could read and write in was Egyptian/hieroglyphics. The tales of `Paleo-Hebrew` appeared much later, to say the least.

Why would Yahweh send his message to the `chosen people` in a foreign language and script!?

History, at least according to Uncle Voltaire, is a consensus of accepted stories. One such story goes like this: There was an Egyptian pharaoh named Amenophis IV. He acted strangely, like a transgender person with a creepy oblong head. And despite that, he had an abnormally sexy wife. He was a pharaoh for a reason. He once had a brilliant idea of ​​how to more effectively control his subjects and expand his influence beyond Egypt. And the pharaoh invented the first monotheistic religion... And he renamed himself Akhenaten. And he built a new city dedicated to the new order called Amarna. One of the high priests of that new religion was a guy named Moses. But to the gods and the old priesthood of Amun, this new faith seemed very heretical.

And people gathered, led by General Horemheb, and decided to overthrow the pharaoh. And they overthrew him, with Akhenaten fleeing in an unknown direction, supposedly to Sinai and Lake Timash, from where, for a while, the stories called ``Exodus'' began to emanate. Akhenaten escaped because he escaped but left the throne to his son Tutankhaten, just in case.

Horemheb did not trust the maniac's son too much, he considered him a great traitor to his father and ordered his head to be smashed with a hammer. And so it was. He also ordered all the priests of the new faith to be liquidated and all their temples to be destroyed and the name of Aten to be erased forever. Due to the restoration of the old polytheistic religion, Aten is known as Tutankhamun, after the supreme deity of the old order - Amon-Ra. Horemheb himself sat on the throne and dedicated himself to repairing the consequences of Akhenaten's reign.

And everything would have been fine if among the few who escaped Horemheb's revenge was not one of the high priests of Aten - Moses. Among the broad masses known as Moses. He continued the spread of his mentor's new religion among the members of the poor and miserable desert-nomadic tribes later known under the common denominator - the Jews. Together with Aaron, his brother and sister Miriam. The rest is, as they say, history... Moses, Jesus, Muhammad, various other religions and sects based on Abraham and Moses continue the mission of their founder Akhenaten? Moses as a fugitive priest of Aton (for which there are still some thin historical foundations) is the one who leads the Jews to flee through the desert and gives them the revelation of God (Yahweh) that he received on the fortieth day on Mount Sinai (the commandments), after which the renegade becomes the central figure of the Old Testament.

The connection is broken somewhere between the god Yahweh and the god of the sun disk (Aton) who is similar to many other gods of suns and sun disks before him, with the difference that he is declared one, unique and true.The principle is the same, the god Vulcan among the Jews only replaces what the god of the sun disk in Amarna represented. Connections, influences and plagiarism from many other polytheistic religions cannot be ruled out either. Mithraism, Zoroastrianism and the Sumerian religion (Tammuz, Semiramis, Nimrod) all influenced the new desert religion of the Jews.

Interestingly, one theory about the `fusion` of the two deities unexpectedly comes from Sigmund Freud, who claimed that Moses was killed in a clash between various clans fighting for supremacy and that Yahweh was later added to Aten due to the influence of the clan that prevailed in the clash and which had its own local deity a.k.a. Yahweh. Later, supposedly, the people of Israel repented for the liquidation of Moses, one of the rare literate and wise people among the poor and primitive Jews of that time - and so the feeling of guilt and the expectation of a Savior who, in the name of Moses, would save the Jews from internal and external demons and fears found their way into history and created a bridge over which later the Rissians and the descendants of the cult of the Subjugation (Islam) - would bridge time and space and spread the evil that had emerged in Amarna throughout the world.

Moses, if nothing else, was a brilliant psychologist and manipulator of the masses, and he clearly knew the `secret`, convincing the people in a small group of insignificant desert tribes where he found himself after his escape - that they were somehow special, that the world could not do without them, that they were specially under the protection of the one God Akhenaten.

That they were chosen! That each one of them personally had a contract with Him (the creator of the universe) symbolized by the ancient Egyptian custom of creating a ring by cutting the skin that protects the head of the penis (yes, and that bizarre phenomenon is not originally Islamic or Jewish).

No one else but them and only them. And it worked. The same insignificant tribe endured much persecution under the belief that they were something special, chosen for some higher purpose, law of attraction, autosuggestion, call it whatever you want, it doesn't matter, that group of tribes has come a long way to this day when there is a Jewish state whose government is inclined to Apartheid, accumulation of enormous power on a global scale in the hands of some individuals - members of that religion but also a significant contribution to world science and art. And they started as lost in the desert, hungry, thirsty and desperate...the Jews did it. Romans later tried it and failed.

Because they diluted the idea that only one group could be chosen and tried to convey the `contract` of God throughout the Empire through the idea that it was valid for all humanity, through a compilation of various stories with Yeshua who came to the world to announce that new truth, that new revised `contract`. And if everyone is chosen - then the value of uniqueness is lost and all of this lacks the power of conviction and belief that exists if it is limited to a small, separate group that can perceive itself as 'chosen', in a world in which they would be only an insignificant numerical minority...as befits some who would be...'chosen'...

(Roger Mortis, 126)

The Morning War

War is perhaps the most horrible phenomenon to have arisen in the long eons of human existence. Lest the beginning of this banter turn out to be a dry joke in the style of `Mrs. Kennedy, if we leave aside the assassination for a moment, tell us how you liked the parade in Dallas` - I would like to refer to something more than lamenting about human suffering and material losses as something that is implied in every banter on the subject of War.

So if we really have to leave the listed evils aside - we will again come to the above conclusion that war is total crap because it is the biggest consumer of resources, mobilizes the entire economy for extremely destructive purposes, sucks up all the energy of the population and leaves tails that drag until Judgment Day and maybe some time after...But there are also those wars that, if we go by the logic of `choosing the lesser evil` - a person would want them, would even be happy if they had to go through a war on their life trajectory, and that war is the same or similar to the Anglo-Zanzibar War of 1896. To be precise, from August 1896. More precisely, from August 27, 1896. And most precisely from 09:00 to 09:45 in the morning according to the East African time zone.

At first glance, a joke that does not abound with humor - nevertheless, such a war that lasted 45 minutes happened and is a bizarre historical fact. As well as the fact of the existence of a state on the island of the same name called Zanzibar. Or the fact that this state the size of a coffee cup was put up against the greatest Empire that humanity has had the misfortune to experience - the British Empire of Queen Victoria of Hanover, compared to which the empires of the alleged bisexual from Pella, the extremely horny Mongol Khan, the Corsican dwarf or the monotesticular bearer of a funny mustache from Braunau am Inn - seem ridiculous and pathetic.

And how is it possible for such a thing as a war to last for a period of time that is barely enough for a person to spoil himself with a cup of coffee, a Marzipan cookie and quality Virginia tobacco?

Situated in a relatively important strategic position overlooking the competing Empire in its infancy, that of the Hohenzollerns and their Tanganyika (German East Africa) - the British imperial authorities had no objection to this island remaining independent as long as the Sultan came to the British Consulate in the City of Stone for a hand-kiss and a deep and humble obeisance. After the death of the last Sultan who was rational enough to bow as much as was asked of him, his successor named Khalid bin-Bargash had no such intention, so due to hereditary madness, due to a distorted perception of courage (or perhaps he was just 'caught' in the middle) and after ascending the throne on 25 August 1896 he broke the agreement according to which every Sultan upon ascending the throne must bow to the British Consul and inform him of his intentions.

Overcome with grandiosity, bin-Bargash decided to fight!

The next day the telegraph brought a 24-hour ultimatum, after which the British Royal Navy, at that time stronger than any two navies in the world combined, would enter the scene. What could Zanzibar defend itself with? Did it possess any super-weapons, could the mad Sultan bin-Bargash, on his part, summon the supernatural Demons of vengeance? To counter this superpower, the Zanzibar fleet had an old Frigate (at a time when frigates with combined steam and sail propulsion were already a relic of some long-gone era) called Glasgow (!?), perhaps because the Sultan was a fan of Celtic and perhaps even Rangers, although I doubt it. Apart from being a warship - it also served as a yacht for the needs of the pampered rulers of this small island. Other ships included one ocean-going merchant steamer (Nyanza), two coastal merchant steamers (Swordsman and Akola) and three small coastal steamers (Kiha, Esplorater and Barawa). Their purpose was to engage in trade, and for the needs of war they were extremely sparingly converted into so-called auxiliary cruisers by placing one or two cannons, a possible machine gun and a couple of infantry platoons with rifles on them.

The infantry could count on about 3,000 soldiers, a mixture of professional Sultan's guards, some real and many self-appointed officers, citizen volunteers who immediately signed up to defend their country, and the `cream` of this army was about 700 Askari, excellently trained Africans in colonial service of various empires. The artillery, in addition to two modern 75mm cannons, gifts from the neighboring ruler, the German Kaiser, and a dozen ancient cannons from the Napoleonic era with shot and black powder, also possessed at least one 9-barrel Gatling (those are those wonders that fire by turning a crank) and 6 modern Maxim machine guns, which were perhaps the most valuable inventory in this modest army.

The British reacted almost laconic, gathering the closest ships in the surrounding waters that had sufficient speed to arrive in time to enforce the ultimatum, led by the super-modern armored cruiser St. George of 7,500 tons - which in itself was incomparably stronger than the entire Zanzibar arsenal. The ad-hoc flotilla also included two light cruisers (Raccoon and Philomel) and two sloops (a small colonial patrol boat), Thrush and Sparrow. On them and on several merchant ships were also the landing forces with about 1,100 soldiers, of whom 900 were Askari and 200 members of the naval infantry (also known as `marines`). The ultimatum expired on the morning of 27.08.1896 at 09.00 and therefore the new Zanzibar government had a completely unforgettable 24 hours in which they tried to obtain recognition from foreign powers, rushing from consulate to consulate - they were rejected by the Americans and the Germans and the Portuguese... which means that they must have had a crazy night in anticipation of the British reaction. The Sultan, encouraged by the voices in his head, did not respond to the ultimatum at all...And the reaction was fierce and brutal, at the very minute of the deadline - the British ships opened fire on the Sultan's palace, the port and the Zanzibari ships, while simultaneously unloading the landing forces that rushed to protect their consulate, customs facilities (!?) and various key points around the city.

Encountering sporadic and extremely ineffective resistance, they achieved their goals in about thirty minutes. The comical Zanzibar artillery tried to shoot the British ships from the shore before being destroyed by the relatively accurate fire of the enemy. The naval ``battle`` was the most interesting moment, the frigate Glasgow opened fire on the St. George in a moment of unexpected courage. The first volley of the British was enough for the wooden Glasgow to be sunk and after about twenty minutes all the remaining Zanzibari ships were on the shallow bottom in front of the port. A memorable scene was the firing of Zanzibari sailors with rifles at the steel of the British ships...

Meanwhile, the palace was reduced to ruins, the 'domestic' Askaris powerless against the 'foreign' in the last attempt at defense, and the marines, supported by naval artillery, arrived because the British ships had already anchored in the harbor... and calmly, as if in practice, they were shooting at the opposing infantry. Reinforcements appeared on the streets from a company of 150 Sikhs, bearded turban-wearing and professional soldiers who were the last act that led to the unconditional surrender of the Zanzibari forces at 09.45.

The Sultan, whose true nature as a simple coward had predictably surfaced - terrified and hysterical, fled with fifty guardsmen to the German consulate. The British demanded extradition, but it was refused due to the high self-confidence of the German officials and because of the defiance of their colonial rival. A fortunate circumstance that saved the Sultan from the fate of Julian Assange was that the consulate was located on the very shore and the water was deep enough to allow a larger ship to enter, in this case the German light cruiser ``Zeadler`` which loaded the Sultan with the refugee retinue and took him to Dar es Salaam in front of the British fleet. However, the British remembered this character with particular resentment when the colony fell to them during the Great War in 1916. When Khalid bin-Bargash was imprisoned and later had the dubious honor of being exiled to the island of Saint Helena, the last refuge of the aforementioned Corsican dwarf. In his place was installed his relative Hamud bin-Mohammed, a legitimate Sultan, tailored to the needs of British interests. It was those dramatic 45 minutes that ended in an anticlimactic and without a heroic last-ditch defense of their sacred land by a mentally unstable ruler.

Certainly the shortest war in recorded history, this event will remain more famous than many larger and extremely bloody conflicts for its bizarreness and unusualness and for its convenience in finding itself on various Top Ten lists and historical curiosities. What will not be remembered is that the 45-minute quest for glory by a moronic government cost 540 dead, wounded and missing persons, all glorious sons of Zanzibari, ignorant enough to lay down their lives for...what? Well, for nothing, thanks for asking. As did millions of others around the world.

British casualties were - one wounded sailor...

(Roger Mortis, 125)

Ode to Resen

It must be admitted that the content dealing with the municipality of Resen is extremely rare and scarce in the media space in the Republic of Hunzistan, which I personally find scandalous and unacceptable for a serious society! In order to take the first step towards correcting that omission, I am ready to make my humble contribution through this blog post...

Resen is a town of some 9,000 inhabitants and is located in the Prespa region, right on the Bitola-Ohrid road, right where the cobblestones of the old road end and the asphalt begins. Not much is known about this settlement, except for the speculation that apples grow in the neighborhood and that there is some kind of lake in the immediate vicinity. The founders of Resen apparently were not the brightest people because they did not found the city on the coast but in the middle of the desert.

The Ohrid-Bitola journey (and vice versa) carries its own inevitability, and that is passing through Resen. Unless you go through Galichica, but that road in winter is more suitable for training Kamikazes than for normal traffic. I wouldn't swear that the mountain road makes entering Resen unnecessary, I'm just giving an assumption based on old memories...In Resen, in addition to people and pets, there are also insects. Cars, trucks and buses, mostly on four wheels, move along the streets. Cars have turn signals and license plates - numbers. It is possible to spot a moped and a scooter. At night, the city lights are turned on in the streets and smoke can be seen from the chimneys of the houses. The houses have doors, windows and firewood in the yards.

The most famous building is the Bey's Palace, which looks bizarre in the city itself, as if someone had plastered it from somewhere into some new, unnatural environment. I've heard that they used to make beautiful chocolates in Resen, and the most famous product that came out of there is the iconic Resana (Resen=Resana, I got it...), a sandwich cookie made of dough and jelly with a microscopic layer of chocolate, known in the "Anglo" world as Jaffa cake.

I don't know what kind of nightlife there is in Resen, what are the places where the youth hang out and what this city offers its residents in terms of work, careers, health, literature, sports, glamour... because I have never had the opportunity to physically set foot there, I have always been present only through the window of a bus or car and never more than five to ten minutes, which you will agree is too short to gain a new experience, even in a city that does not promise much in terms of new experiences more significant than listening to static on TV...

(Roger Mortis, 124)

Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines

It's time for an afternoon rant and suddenly a vague thought about flying takes shape through the synapses of the brain. But not of flight of facy or the flight of feathered creatures but of people. And there it goes... Flying with the mind is one of the oldest human habits. Man has been flying with his mind for thousands of years until one gloomy October day in 1783 when the transition from mental to real flying finally took place and it was thanks to two brothers known as Montgolfier who, against the advice and forecasts of `well-intentioned` citizens and villagers - managed to soar into the heavens with the help of a lighter-than-air aircraft (known as a Balloon). The heavens, until then reserved for birds, angels and archangels - were finally open to human presence.

After 120 years of dominance by balloons and airships, the first heavier-than-air aircraft appeared on the scene, paving the way for what we know today as air transport. Especially aviation, because airships, or as the world likes to call them by their generic name, Zeppelins, ruled the skies during the early days of the airplane. Basically huge bags filled with hydrogen, slow and cumbersome, they were the way aviation reached its first customers who needed faster travel than by train or ship. Perhaps the most revolutionary form of transport ever to appear is air transport. The speed and range, combined with relative comfort and unparalleled safety, put this form of transport in a whole new category.

Officially in 1903 and the Wright brothers, unofficially in 1901 and Gustav Weisskopf, the realization of the age-old dream of humanity to soar into the sky without any religious connotations began. The speed of development of civil aviation is spectacular. Only less than a decade after the first official flight of an airplane in the world, in 1911 - the French pilot and designer Louis Bleriot built the first purpose-built passenger aircraft with a closed cabin for four passengers, the Bleriot-24.

In 1913, the first multi-engine passenger aircraft of Igor Sikorsky appeared, called the Roskiy Vityaz only as a stepping stone towards the first serially produced passenger aircraft `Ilya Muromets` which carried 16 passengers in a comfortable cabin, but the tsarist bureaucrats had no idea about the new miracle of technology and the eventual opening of an airliner. Later, the aircraft was converted into a bomber and used on the Eastern Front during the Great War.

The end of World War I left hundreds of heavy bombers no longer in service and thousands of pilots out of work. Ambitious pioneers on both sides of the Atlantic saw the opportunity to create a new type of transport, the first airlines were founded, military aircraft were converted into passenger or postal aircraft and a huge number of pilots found work. Later, the first ``flight attendants`` appeared, initially men, later women. British pilots Alcock and Brown in 1919 were the first to fly across the Atlantic in a Vickers Vimy adapted bomber (no, Charles Lindbergh was not the first) thus indicating the possibility of intercontinental travel. The passenger plane E-4 of the Zeppelin-Stacken company from 1919 is one of those products that was so ahead of its time that the then world was confused and failed to find a suitable purpose for it. Of course, the fact that Germany was in chaos at the time didn't help at all...

Airports at that time were just slightly flatter meadows than usual, with few concrete or asphalt runways, which limited the use of aircraft in bad weather. This situation gave rise to the golden age of seaplanes, gigantic machines for transoceanic flights that could carry more passengers than their land-based competitors and could land at any port.

Later, as a result of the massive construction of asphalt and concrete airports during World War II, seaplanes gradually disappeared from the routes, giving way to increasingly sophisticated passenger airliners. From that era, it is also worth mentioning the legendary Douglas DC-3 (also known by its military designation C-47 Dakota), ubiquitous with its simple elegance, ease of maintenance and the general sympathetic impression it leaves on everyone, from a savage in the rainforests of New Guinea who founded a new religion (Cargo Cult) because of the twin-engine `Dakota`, considering it a deity (!?) to the rank and file who were professionally engaged in flying. Dozens of examples still fly on regular routes or serve as military transports around the world today, some eighty years after the flight of the first prototype.

With the arrival of the jet age and the British De Havilland Comet in 1949, the time required for travel was halved. Routes that would have taken weeks and months to travel by ship began to be covered in a few hours or at most a day, things unthinkable before the advent of flying machines. From then until today, there have been several directions in which passenger aviation has moved. The first is an increase in the number of passengers, larger and more spacious aircraft are being built, the Boeing B-747 and today's Airbus A-380 represent the pinnacle in this regard.

The second is economy, new turbofan engines with lower consumption are being introduced, the wing profiles and ``winglets'' on the wing tips play a role in reducing fuel consumption, and low-cost companies also enter the scene, which usually have a uniform fleet of one type of aircraft (Ryan Air uses exclusively B-737s for example) saving on everything and landing at secondary airports. The third is the safety of the flight where excellent results have been achieved and today this type of transport is the safest on the planet, in terms of kilometers traveled vs. victims.

The fourth is the speed where unfortunately there are no major changes, the level is still at the aforementioned Comet from the post-WW2 period, the only aircraft - the exception was the Franco-British Concorde, a supersonic aircraft that flew on regular routes at 2,200 km per hour. Arguably the sexiest thing in the world aside from a woman, this pearl of applied design and triumph of aerodynamics was withdrawn from service in 2003.

And that would be almost three centuries after the first idea for air travel. Air transport was first conceived by a fugitive Portuguese priest in 1709. It ended up in a madhouse, which was an expected reaction of the world at the time regarding flying anything unforeseen by the deities on duty. The blueprints of his airship still exist, and his tragic fate was only the first victim on the path to a new world whose contours were vaguely outlined in the priest's ingenious head...

(Roger Mortis, 123)

Militarism

Walking down the alley that led to the village joint, the son of Ravna Gora and the son-in-law of Istria, Zvonimir Rantović, heard something that the more optimistic would define as a hum. The current repertoire was `If you knew Peggy Su tralalala i love you, oh Peggy hey Peggy Sue` and the performer was Andy Banter, a former resident of Brighton and today a locally recognized authority in the field of military tactics and global strategy, an occasional metal turner in civilian life. Sitting uncomfortably in the rickety chairs in front of the table and not expecting service from the waiter who was rumored to have already taken on a spiritual form, the two acquaintances and potential brothers poured themselves some Antifreeze, diluted with water, and in about thirteen minutes they were already on their way to analyzing the latest world militaristic trends by evoking old memories.

``And so I tell you, Iraq was a great world power, according to some the fourth strongest army in the world...'' Zvone began.

``Of course not, fourth in the world? Nonsense,'' Andy interjected.

``You don't have to believe me, you can find an edition of Jane's Defense Review in the library's ruins and see the figures. They confirm what I'm talking about,'' Zvonimir replied.

``So... how is it possible for such a large army to collapse like a house of cards in such a short time?'' Andy asked.

``That's because of the paradox, my friend. There is a paradox, they can be weak and strong at the same time. Let me explain what the difference is. Iraq was undoubtedly a great conventional military power.

But when the clash came, the Iraqi army was crushed in a couple of weeks, and the heavy losses of the coalition and the new puppet Iraqi government did not come in 2003 during the invasion and clash with the fourth army in the world, but came later, during the encounter with the Riff-raff, lame and crippled, young and old, a guerrilla amalgam in which there was everything and anything, at least conventional logic.

A similar case was with that...North Korea. They also had a huge, massive, fat and greasy conventional army that would have been phenomenal in 1959, let's say. In both cases there was something in common, and that was the rapid collapse of the conventional North army during the Second Korean War. In both 1991 and 2003, the regular Iraqi army, one of the most numerous in the world - experienced a debacle of incredible proportions. All the announcements of long resistance, secret weapons and super-special units have burst like a soap bubble.

It is not known how many Iraqi recruits died in 1991, mountains of corpses and destroyed equipment, aimless sacrifice of young lives along the entire line of the daily fluid front line. A similar scenario occurred in 2021, in the war on the Korean Peninsula. In 2003, the Iraqi aviation did not even take off. They refused to sacrifice themselves at all, having learned from the death of many colleagues in 1991. Just like in the case of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in 1999 when the pilots of the MiG-21 and Orao did not even take off, except for a few incidental cases, those who fought were on the MiG-29 which theoretically should have been modern enough for resistance...but then...it wasn`t.

Which is a good thing to some extent, it shows that there are fewer and fewer fools in the world, characters who would sacrifice themselves in a fireball in the sky. And what can we say about those poor guys who suffered in outdated aluminum cans of Soviet and Chinese origin in 2021. There is a certain sentimentality in that act, a young pilot taking off in a MiG-19 to fight a southern F-15K, something like a blind and deaf Mongoloid slowly climbing into the ring against Mike Tyson...' Zvonko burst into a monologue, obviously warmed by antifreeze.

'If someone uninformed listens to you, they will think that the Alliance forces had a picnic during that war,' Mr. Banter interrupted his friend.

'Well, now, it's not exactly that...' Zvonimir tried to reply.

But in vain, because Andrew was already getting into the rhythm.

He continued: `The Allies had three options: to bypass the Demilitarized Zone along the 38th parallel with the help of naval landings supported by air, the second was the nuclear option, and the third was a breakthrough through the DMZ. The first option is not only impossible but would be suicidal, because despite the relatively rapid destruction of the northern aviation, navy, and armored forces, the very operation of landing a huge number of troops on the enemy coast and attempting to establish a bridgehead would have brought unacceptably many casualties even for a militaristic culture like the one that was dominant in the United States.

The third option, an attack through the DMZ preceded by creating a "hole" in the defense line and possibly penetrating inland, is something that even the combined US-South Korean army would not be able to accomplish without endless streams of C-130 transport planes taking off from Suwon or Inchon to the US full of tin crates. And they look bad on TV. First of all, because North Korea is not Iraq on two grounds, the relief (terrain) and the lack of the possibility of generating an internal `fifth column` as was the case with Iraq (Kurds, Shiites, various opportunists, tribal strife). And that would deprive the Americans of the great advantages they enjoyed in Iraq. The similarity was in the number of inhabitants fit for military service and in the military equipment, although Iraq also had some Western hardware.

Therefore, a fourth option appeared in the minds of the military strategists from the Pentagon, similar to the one from 1999 and the attacks on the FRY when aviation and the navy were supposed to be the decisive factor. And after the Tomahawks, laser and GPS-guided bombs, Mavericks, bunker busters, AWACS, Sidewinders and other high-tech equipment seriously "softened" the regular Bolshevik dynastic army to the point that it began to disintegrate, thus enabling a quick landing on the northern coast by the Alliance - the formation of guerrillas followed and the good old, boring, easy-to-use and deadly AK, PKS, Dragunov, RPK, IED and a number of other low-tech weapons entered the scene, which from Somalia onwards (the most shocking example being Hezbollah vs. Israel 2006) heralded a new paradigm in warfare that was on the way to revolutionizing it, new tactical systems that brought serious surprises.

Then, the surprise was double, the new system meant a step back in technological terms, and this was the result of the lack of an effective strategy for anti-guerrilla warfare (counter-insurgency) because for half a century, Western strategists were obsessed with the possible Soviet breakthrough through the Fulda Pass and the vast masses of Soviet tanks on their way to the English Channel, which then normally made sense and brought them great success in conducting conventional proxy wars. Technology became too successful for conventional warfare and too big a failure for an asymmetric collision. And excessive reliance on high technology meant death for thousands of dusters. Not that the Americans didn't understand this, but developing anti-guerrilla technology would bring incomparably less profit to the military-industrial complex compared to pushing conventional equipment. $250 million for a piece of F-35, seriously? And the dustmen Hank from Alabama and Jose from New Mexico were expendable anyway, so no problem there...`

`You're absolutely right Andy,` Mr. Rantovic quietly admitted.

And he added: `Maybe they should have played it safe. Organic actions on strategic targets and after a few weeks or months of `pumping` followed by letting the propaganda dogs off the chain - pictures on the half-dead CNN of some ruins that will be claimed to be northern nuclear plants, the `threat` is eliminated and the world is once again confident in democratic values, all packaged with appropriate phraseology and iconography. Proof of the `barbaric communist atrocities` wouldn't have to be fabricated anyway, the multitude of ruins in Seoul, which was quite close enough for the northern heavy artillery, the corpses of civilians, the lobotomy, patriotism and the repeated victory of capitalism would have received a new focus.`

`And I wanted to visit Seoul so much while it still existed,` Andy said quietly...

`I had a plan to pay for an arrangement to visit Pyongyang, I've always been attracted to morbidly exotic places. But what's here is... the last I heard is that now there were vast pastures in that place where herds of wild cattle grazed, often chased by mutated Tigers.`, Zvone mentioned.

`Eh... you and I are serious idiots, buddy.` Andy concluded.

`I know,` Zvonimir confirmed.

`As if our place is any better than Seoul or Pyongyang. It has suffered fewer Megatons than some other places, but it is still far from a tourist magnet...

"Tourists..." grinned Mr. Banter, "I haven't heard that word in a long time... and I probably won't for a long time. Maybe some of our descendants will reintroduce it, if they survive. If they do... if...well blydichfudgoss," Andy was interrupted mid-sentence by a violent vomiting.

Zvone instinctively turned his gaze, which found focus as he stared at a torn advertising poster that had once advertised a career as a professional soldier in some army.

(Roger Mortis, 122)