Strangely Brown

Another piece of news from the fascinating country of India caught my attention, this time it is not about an individual bizarreness but about a massive, huge one, so big that it is on the verge of probability in this, 2025. I do not know if the term `defecation` is suitable for use, it seems somehow sterile and does not capture the situation that prevails in India. Therefore, here is the traditional term `shit` that brings us quite precise information.

India, a country that is a nuclear power, a place where there is a space program and where aircraft carriers sail - is faced with a shameful and anachronistic problem that threatens to destroy the reputation of this ex-dominion in the world. If there is anything that indicates the drastic differences between the image that a nation, state or culture wants to promote and the reality, then it is the following...The inhabitants of the hungry country of India shit. Just like everyone else in the world shits. But somewhere this physiological need has been limited for decades and even centuries to the privacy of the toilet, the latrine, the urinal, the ``toilet''. The strong smell, the uncovered genitals and the hygienic condition require complete isolation of the place intended for shitting in relation to the rest of the dwelling.

Except in India. There they shit and urinate everywhere. On the street, at a bus or train stop, at a stadium, in broad daylight, people shit. Aside from urinate, which is not a health risk, shitting and the exposure of the population to feces that are blown everywhere and contaminate food and water - have been and still are the cause of epidemics, retro-diseases such as cholera, dysentery, diarrhea, typhus and colonization of the intestines by various intestinal parasites.

As the newspaper ``Times of India'' estimates, at least 700 million inhabitants defecate in the open every day in this country. My brain was caught off guard by this news and that's why I can't visualize that image where hundreds of millions of people empty their bowels every day on streets and alleys, in front of temples and shops, in forests and deserts, on meadows and sidewalks...Whether because of the health implications or because of international reputation - the government in India, in cooperation with the UN and its program ``Unicef'', decided to declare war on this habit! In the distant year 2014, a fierce campaign was launched to eradicate public defecation through various media projects that should raise awareness among the youngest population regarding hygiene habits. The mature and elderly population gave up, they are unlikely to give up the famous cultural feature colored in brown anyway.

A series of cartoons has come to light, which, together with a series of comics, posters, billboards and a special video game called `Toilet Trek` (!?) or `Toilet Tracks`, will have to pull India out of the deep shit, this time in a literal sense. The cartoons had their own protagonist named `Mr. Lou`, which means Mr. Poo, and their own antagonist, the disgusting villain `Mr. Pooh` (Mr. Poop). Mr. Poop, in keeping with the theme, was presented in the form of a human-sized piece of feces that moved around and created problems that Mr. Poo then had to solve as a hero (!?)

Although all this seems like a forgotten and uncensored Monty Python sketch, it is still a real situation where public money is spent on the creation of a cartoon character/stylized poop named Mr. Pooh. Whether and to what extent this program will attract young people and succeed in imprinting the role of the toilet, wiping one's behind and washing one's hands in their still unformed consciousness - only the future will tell. Judging by the results of the piles of... hmmm... UN projects from the past, there is not much room for optimism. And maybe this time there will be changes and in the future the 700 million public shitters will gradually turn to private shitting?

Until then, the stereotype of Rajiv, a dried-up Hindustani who, if he is `pushed`, will simply take off his lower clothes, kneel down and shit...on the street.

(Roger Mortis, 131)

Antarctica Mon Amour

Ralph McBunter raised the collar of his thick jacket in an attempt to protect himself from the wind. The chances of lighting a cigarette in such a wind were equal to San Marino's chances of qualifying for the World Cup in football. That annoyed his comrade Ralph much more than the fast, icy wind that froze the whites of his eyes...And time passed slowly, in anticipation of his friend Fumiko Rantashima who was supposed to reach the once abandoned research station ``Wilkes`` on the southeast coast of Antarctica on foot. The girl set off after a brief radio communication when she announced that she would arrive in six hours at most because the new settlement was not too far from the original location where they had landed, the aforementioned ``Wilkes`` station.

However, with a delay of about an hour, a dark object began to be seen approaching through the endless whiteness. It was Fumiko. The next day, comrade Rantashima and comrade McBunter were sitting comfortably on a couch brought by the US Navy back in the fifties. The brandy and nicotine served to loosen the frozen brains, vocal cords and lips. Let the conversation begin. The conversation slowly but surely turned of its own accord to the problems and dilemmas of people who identify themselves as anarchists, of whose identification the two characters described were also a part.

Ralph began in his typical phlegmatic style - ``It's too much...there are unnecessary divisions between the already not too many anarchists in the world and those who consider themselves to be such. Although they live and work under the system they supposedly hate, they still remain slaves and servants of such a system all their lives.`

`Be a little clearer,` whispered Fumiko. `Well...so, we have two main currents - anarchists and anarchists-after-lunch-before-nap-I-want-to-be-interesting-I'll-catch-a-drink and the like, people who have never outgrown their adolescence...and the choice is simple - you're either for or against the system.' `Don't you think that's a bit too simplistic a view of the situation?', asked Miss Rantashima.

``Not at all,'' McBunter replied and continued ``I know how those thoughts go. If you peek into the head of a self-proclaimed anarchist, you will hear the following thoughts - Oh look now, we're going to do it, just to finish college, just to get a job, just to get married, just to raise the children, just to earn money for an apartment or a house, just to retire... or in translation - I will remain a slave to the system, I will not leave my comfort zone, I will do absolutely nothing in terms of my freedom or the freedom of my community to which I belong by choice... and rationalizations like - but anyway, doesn't the consciousness in heaven need to increase so that Anarchy comes... there is time, in about 114 centuries, we are only Prophets and serve as leaven for the new consciousness. Until then I'll listen to punk, read a bit of Kropotkin and wear a weird haircut...I won't exist in 114 centuries anyway.`

`Ugh, I hate you, Ralph, my friend,` Fumiko said with a smile, `I know you're probably right but I'm still having trouble adjusting to that reality.`` I hate you too, my love,` McBunter smiled and continued, leaving his newfound friend with his mouth agape...`As the Americans say, you either sell your ass to the system...or you don`t. Nevermind the anarcho this or anarcho that...And on a local and global level there is no difference. Where do you think all these divisions of anarcho-this, anarcho-that come from, do you think it comes from some practical people? All this is from theoreticians and overly educated people who have nothing in common with the `classes` in whose name they supposedly speak, and have only seen a factory in a picture.` Fumiko's eyes flashed with an unpleasant scene related to the premature death of her father, who had proudly worked all his life for one of the numerous branches of the branches of the powerful Zaibatsu corporate clans.

She tried to push the scene out of her mind...But Ralph had already got into a rhythm - `With today's level of technical development and the opportunities that are within reach of almost everyone, in at least half the world it is much easier to be outside the system than it used to be. But it requires a temporary deprivation of some of the modest comforts and, above all, a clarification with yourself, who and what you are... and how sincere your intentions are. People forget that they even fantasize about what Anarchy should look like in the 114th century... sometime after the fall of the system - that every day they `feed` that same system they supposedly hate. There are people who probably haven't heard of anarchism as a political theory but who are anarchists nonetheless. Such an example exists among the paradise of Bougainville, an island northeast of Australia where Anarchy has succeeded in practice.

More can be learned about Anarchy from these simple people than from the entire oeuvre of Kropotkin, for example. Although they are uneducated, everyday life and everyday needs have developed in them many abilities and qualities from which much can be practically learned.` Comrade Rantashima sighed, drank her brandy and decided not to interrupt Comrade Ralph, who apparently liked her even beyond ideological collegiality.

`Sincerity of intentions and willingness to be outside the system or at least to eliminate as much as possible the role of the system in the life of the individual. Or the group. Personal example is the most convincing. Dry propaganda and persuasion do not bear fruit, at least not in the last 200 years. The people are not convinced that way. When the people see that people live well that way (off the grid) they may reconsider. At least a part of them. `In short, those who declare themselves anarchists want to fuck without getting in, to receive every day from the system and remain - innocent...`

Fumiko could not keep quiet - `Ralph, it seems you have not read much history`. `Not too much, I admit` Ralph answered and continued - `There are no such examples from history. The alleged infiltration of the system as a way to change it is just a cover for hypocrisy and fear. It is the same as if someone is ready to circumcise themselves or have someone's clitoris cut off in order to become a Muslim and change Islam from the inside. And they say they are - atheists. Complete logical nonsense. It is expected as expected and leaving a backup option...to be ready when it is necessary to pay a loan installment or go on vacation somewhere.`

`The system is corrupt, irrational and inhuman to the extreme. Everyone who is part of it is partially or totally corrupt, irrational and inhuman. You are either for it or against it.` ``Maybe all this is just the result of a misunderstanding,'' Fumiko began. ``Because anarchism and Anarchy are not synonyms, something that even anarchists themselves do not understand. The former is a theoretical doctrine and political ideology that speaks of a society without a state, without power, without imposed authority. Anarchy is a state of statelessness, powerlessness and the absence of vertical authorities. The saddest thing is that it does not require who knows what resources. Just honesty and perseverance.` ``Exactly, my dear, honesty,`` Ralph intervened. ``Why would someone who would work in the system, who would use at least the scraps he gets, all the small comforts and advantages that ``infiltration'' would provide him, give up all that... in the name of some moral principle?

Especially if he comes from a poor background and his scraps seem like the Rocks of Gibraltar...or if he has started a family...even if it is the end, or if he has taken out loans...he will become a penitent, you know, like those ex-smokers or ex-meat eaters or ex-members of another tribe who are the most vocal in the persecution of yesterday's 'colleagues'. `This is probably where idealism should come into play,' Fumiko smiled and added with mild irony...`and maybe Santa Claus and the Christmas Bunny...``It should, but idealism is a great luxury,' Ralph interjected - `idealism makes you ignore biological nature, say goodbye to evolutionarily built-in mechanisms. That is why it is so rare and represents the highest level of existence that a Homo sapiens sapiens can reach by putting drives, instincts, fears under complete control, to stop being a slave to biology. Although it is very likely that he will suffer on that path. Despite everything.

Miss Rantashima took advantage of Ralph's silence and began - "Nobody wants freedom. Not really. Because it implies full responsibility for their actions, their attitudes, their life and their surroundings. There is no one to `export` that responsibility to. And people would give a kidney, a testicle or half a uterus to be able to export as much responsibility for their actions as possible to an external factor that will carry their cross, or at least serve as a support, crutches that Jesus did not have when he climbed to Golgotha." And she continued - ``Orwell grumbled something that freedom is the ability to say that two and two make four, that everything else follows naturally. If we reflect this on time, and since I am not trying to sell originality - I will say that life consists of time. There is no other measure of `unit of life` that is as comprehensive as time.

In that case, freedom could be measured by calculating how many of the 24 hours a day are available to us in the way we ourselves think we should spend them, how much of the time in life is "ours" and we can give it to ourselves and to those who mean something to us. For a few moments Ralph and Fumiko were silent, occasionally glancing at each other. Ralph, having a little more alcohol in him, continued - ``The calculation was devastating. That was the beginning of the road that brought us to Antarctica. Because there are no states here, no priests and abbots, no bureaucrats. `There is nothing else,' examples Fumiko... ``except our desire for Anarchy. And that of our like-minded people, who are not few. Wilkes Station is already full and expanding every month. We are now building a new settlement, as you know. You should come and visit us soon.

`Of course,' said Ralph. `I must tell you that I will not come only for the settlement, but more for you.' `Maybe so,' Fumiko replied, `why not.' `You know what, Ralph, I don't think I would like you so much if we lived in Dumfries or Osaka, but here in Antarctica...'Under the sun of the polar day, Ralph and Fumiko's simultaneous laughter hinted at a spark of emotional development.

(Roger Mortis, 130)

The Football War

The old and now less worn-out phrase that Football was the most important side job in the world is obviously the result of a logical inconsistency, but that football and its fans knew and know how to cause human casualties is unfortunately a reality. The tragedies of Hillsborough, Bradford, Ibrox, the stampede in Moscow, the massacre in Lima, the events of Heysel, Bastia, or Maksimir and even the mass brawl in Port Said are a clear indicator of the properties of the dynamics of the mass, of thousands of members of a certain collective who, in the onset of collective psychosis, are capable of dying and killing, ready to embark on a deadly campaign against the `enemy`, for the glory of their masters, which sometimes results in severe consequences that extend for decades.

But no incident in the world of football was as serious as the one in the qualifiers for the 1970 World Cup in Mexico, when the Central American giants El Salvador and Honduras met in the play-off for the CONCACAF zone. Two Latin scumbags known for nothing more than the bright traditions of military juntas, dictatorships, landowning oligarchy and malaria had been on bad terms for years before the play-off matches. The original "banana state" - Honduras had a slightly higher standard of living than that of El Salvador, which was enough reason for about 300,000 citizens of El Salvador to go to temporary work "on the sly" in the neighboring countryside. Faced with growing unpopularity due to their inherent weakness, the authorities in Honduras had to urgently find an "internal enemy" who would, neither guilty nor obliged, take the sins of the local government upon themselves. And for that, there was no better option than illegal immigrants from the neighborhood. Propaganda began to blame Salvadorans for all the problems in Honduras, from the poor harvest to the cloudy weather - it was all the fault of the seasonal workers. They took your jobs. They're gonna impregnate your women. They're gonna destroy us!

Little by little, the basest passions began to flare up and the stage was set for a clash between...the stupid and the stupider. Honduras, a poor, run-down fascist state where presidents changed depending on the mood of the board of directors of the American corporation United Fruit Company, and El Salvador, a poor, fascist state with a penchant for genocide by the authorities as a desirable measure for maintaining the social status quo.

The first match on June 8, 1969, played in Tegucigalpa, ended with a narrow 1-0 victory for Honduras. The first beatings of Salvadoran migrants began. The return match in the Santo Salvador on June 15 ended with a convincing 3-0 win for El Salvador, and the local population, in a fit of revenge, beat and even killed Honduran fans...And as fate can sometimes be strange, FIFA rules were not like those of today, where goal difference or away goals are considered - but a master class had to be played, a third match that would decide the traveler to the World Cup. Under today's rules, El Salvador would have gone with a 3-1 aggregate score and no one would have been hurt, there would have been no war and thousands of people would not have ended up dead or maimed...The decisive match was played on neutral ground, on June 26 in Mexico City, where in a dramatic and uncertain match that went into overtime - El Salvador won 3-2 and qualified for the World Cup. Angry and disappointed by all this, Honduran fans vented their rage on the numerous Salvadoran workers across the country, began beatings, killings and dragging dead bodies through the dusty streets in cars and jeeps...

Such a thing could not be tolerated even in a sick country like El Salvador and the next day the El Salvadoran government severed diplomatic relations with Honduras. War was on the verge. The preparations of the Salvadoran forces lasted until July 14. They included the repair and equipping of ancient aircraft donated by the United States as war surplus from World War II, the legendary Navy F4U `Corsair` fighters with their distinctive winglets, the iconic P-51 `Mustang`, the timeless C-47 (DC-3) `Dakota`, the long-lived AT-6 `Texan` and their successors the AT-28 `Trojan`. A nice collection of well-known and recognized aircraft models, but a collection that would be more suitable for a fine museum display, at a time when the world's skies were dominated by twice-fast-than-sonic Mirages, MiG-21s and 23s, F4 Phantoms and similar beasts equipped with radars, advanced electronics and air-to-air missiles - the use of quarter-century-old veterans from the battles over Normandy or Tarawa was an improvisation caused by the lack of funds to buy fancy equipment.

The Honduran air force was like a mirror image of the Salvadoran one, with exactly the same types of aircraft and even the national markings on the wings causing confusion because they were almost the same...June 14 was the day when the Salvadoran armed forces began their attack against the "damned enemy". In the very first hours of the attack, the ground army managed to break through the weak border defenses and by the end of the day penetrated over 50km into Honduras. Transport DC-3s, posing as bombers by mounting special bomb ramps, protected by Corsairs - attacked several runways in order to destroy the Honduran air force with a sudden attack. Needles to say, they failed. Apart from the suffering of several dozen civilians in a wider radius around the runways - they managed to destroy only a pair of AT-6 `Texans` and one BT-13 `Valiant` ancient training aircraft.

The next morning, the Honduran Corsairs also entered action, whose pilots were in any case superior to the `neighbors`. As a result, in the following days, the Honduran aviation managed not only to stop the advance of the Salvadoran army, to destroy almost half of El Salvador's strategic oil reserves, but also to significantly improve the morale of their infantry colleagues who were prone to inaction...The last air battles exclusively between piston-engined aircraft in history - ended with a dozen downed Salvadoran aircraft and not a single Honduran one. The American mercenaries who were hired by the El Salvadoran government did not help either, as they had a suspicious habit of avoiding direct combat...In a bizarre turn of events, the old-timers in the air prevented the Salvadoran army from penetrating Tegucigalpa and changed the course of the war, each aircraft flying three to four combat sorties a day and testing the limits of the equipment and endurance of the pilots...

The fighting continued until June 19, when, under pressure from the Organization of American States and the international community, which imposed sanctions, the Salvadoran government called off the invasion and the Salvadoran army withdrew from Honduras. Although sporadic skirmishes continued until early September, that marked the end of active hostilities. The aftermath of the soccer match, which continued by other means outside the field, was at least 2,000 dead and 5,000 wounded on both sides, mostly Honduran civilians killed in bombings and shelling, and Salvadoran migrants killed as a result of the "If you can't kick the donkey, kick the donkey," phenomenon, apparently popular in Central America at the time.

The war left relations between the two backward "ethnic" groups strained, nationalism began to reign in the minds of the poor campesinos, the seventies were a time of arms race between the two sides, and by the end of the decade, civil wars began that would claim more than 300,000 victims. El Salvador's already weak economy was further affected by the expulsion of seasonal migrants, rapidly increasing military spending, sanctions, and the cessation of trade with its neighbor. The situation in Honduras, although slightly better, was still on the verge of despair, the majority of the population succumbing to the black plague of nationalism, leaving room for the authorities there to sink even further into a fierce kleptocracy at the expense of the stupid paradise.

As a sad footnote, it remains to be mentioned the achievement of the El Salvador national team at the 1970 World Cup in Mexico, for which such a price was paid. Did the brave and dedicated Salvadoran players make it to the medal race? Did they at least make it past the group stage? Well, did they at least earn a point? None of that, they lost all three matches without scoring a goal - thus serving to correct the goal difference of the hosts Mexico, the USSR and Belgium, the competitors in their group...

In such an anticlimactic manner was put to an end a dark epic of the champions of the stripped collective belonging whose shallow graves adorned the damp forests in some irrelevant Neverland.

(Roger Mortis, 129)

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)