The Heelers Diaries
the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet
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Not the Theme Tune to Casino Royale
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
a rooskie in dublin
By Irina Kuksova
RDS (Royal Dublin Society) is a place in Dublin where magic - such as major shows and exhibitions – happens. This year I had the privilege to attend it for the first time.
The difference between a Dublin art show and, say, an art show in Milan is the same as between the two cities themselves. The latter is roughly five times bigger in size and more costly in price – a toll for the sine qua non "coolness".
Milan Show has pieces like Fontana's "cuts" ("Tagli" – just a canvas with a cut in it), which require a six-figure sum to acquire it. An Irish friend of mine still tells it as a joke of sorts. To him, indifferent to the Italian cult of "coolness", the price is ridiculously high. Especially if you covert it into kegs of Guinness.
If Milan Show is akin to "golden youth", Dublin Show is more like a grandpa with his collection of more down-to-earth stuff and an occasional "deadly" item submitted by his oh-so-contemporary grandchild.
We could have a good (and never-ending) debate on which show is "better" and why. Today, I propose to judge by the amount of care put into artwork. Perhaps Fontana put care into his "cuts", but can one even start comparing it with the amount of care put in every brushstroke by Eileen Meagher?
the prime minister of australia on judgement day
He was smirking smugly.
He looked expectantly towards the throne.
What would he see?
Maybe a Chinese communist.
Or a Muslim.
Something good anyway.
The clouds around the throne had not cleared yet.
Elmer Rudd could not see the real presence.
But Elmer Rudd knew he was in heaven.
He knew he was where he was meant to be.
"How do you plead?" asked an angel seated below the throne.
The angel had a voice of thunder.
"I plead that I was a good man and deserve to be in heaven," answered Elmer Rudd confidently.
"Wrong," thundered the angel.
"But I apologised to the generation of children who were abused in care homes fifty years ago," mouthed Elmer Rudd.
And there was silence in the house of judgement.
Then the voice of the angel spoke again.
"You apologised for crimes you said had been committed by an entire generation of care workers against children in state homes," rumbled the angel. "You implied guilt to everyone who'd worked in the caring profession fifty years ago whether they were guilty or not. You did so in fact without caring whether they were guilty or not. The people you impugned were all old or dying. Not really your target demographic come election time. Most of the guilt you imputed was based on hind sight and not on any fair assessment of the work of the people you accused. Yet you yourself were Prime Minister of Australia at a time when millions of children were killed in their mothers' wombs either through abortion operations in hospital or abortion pills bought over the counter. At least the children in the care homes for which you apologised all got to exist. You dared to judge the previous generation that sought to care for all its children born and unborn. You permitted the present generation of pleasure seeking scoundrels who were murdering untold numbers of children in the womb, you permitted those self obsessed self worshipping loathsome twits, to stand in judgement on a generation whose greatest collective crime was failing to provide an adequate school environment. You, an arrant cavalier abortionist, dared to stand in judgement on a generation that never once collaborated in mass murder through abortion. You dared to cast judgement while you yourself were master of a charnel house. You Mr Rudd were Prime Minister of the most barbaric generation of Australians who ever lived."
Elmer Rudd hung his head in shame.
The angel stood up.
"Get thee hence to endless night."
His voice was like many waters roaring.
In a flash the Prime Minister of Australia was gone.
And there was silence in the house of judgement.
the confederacy of dunces
Monday, November 23, 2009
the monica leech laugh in
Sunday, November 22, 2009
swine flu h1n1 is a con job designed to sell pharmacy products
Saturday, November 21, 2009
ten best anti war songs of all time
Friday, November 20, 2009
apologia pro parakeets mea
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
russian for beginners
Very beautiful though the russian language is, its beauty is a lifelong quest
Gracious and glorious are the musicalities of the russian language
Exuding warmth in icy mysteriousness
Nurturing your spirit towards strange fantastical visions
In time she may prove a harsh mistress
Alas
The russian language will seduce you
As though she has waited many years only for you
Right up until the moment you met
And if you are true to her
She will smile on you sometimes
Only to withdraw her favour at a whim
Virtue is poor reward for this
Alas



