Chapters

I think the only reason I voted today was for the gateway to continue to comment about Ireland. Not that anyone reads them much, but if I didn't 'do the duty,' well, maybe in some eyes, it renders those comments useless. Unfortunately, it seems that way most of the time.  A friend posted a succession of 'No's' on his Facebook earlier to get his own point across. When questioned by someone from across the Atlantic, he began his explanation by saying - 'We voted in a referendum today on whether Europe starves us, or we starve ourselves.'

I laughed. Strange reaction - surely it couldn't come to that. Until you read stuff that's happening in Greece right now. For any society who sees their suicide rate jump by 40% over the course of a few years has a problem on its hand. Austerity is what is driving the majority of these deaths there. 

IMF chief, Christine Lagarde said late last week that she had little sympathy for the Greek people. She called them 'rampant tax-dodgers.' There was outrage worldwide. Then, just days later, she has to concede that she pays NO tax on her salary or expenses - which come in at a cool half-a-million a year. This is the type of human-being fronting an organization that has wrecked havoc globally since its inception and is currently pulling a lot of the strings attached to our political leaders. Those puppet ones. Ones who would sooner leave unborn children with a huge debt to be paid than come up with just one - yes, ONE - idea that may resonate somewhat on a national level. Something that doesn't have us dipping into a fund that has nothing but the disease of debt attached to it. What next? Anti-evolution groups using ponzi economics as an argument for their stance. It's a strong argument too. It used to be people acquired debt - of their own choosing. Now people are born with it. You have to give the establishment their dues on that one.

I rooted out the chapter from Booker's World that dealt with the day of the Lisbon 2 re-run. Got to say I ran an awesomely juvenile campaign on that one. Thorough, insightful, bit of Bruce Campbell - deleted! Fear of a backlash from the power structures for being an anti-Lisbon-er and accessing the means to get back to work. It didn't do any good though. Lesson learned. Stand true to who you are. Should be the standard way of thinking - but we're humans. 

The only thing that has changed since 2009 is the swap of one set of Europhile implementers for a new one. And with it a steady decline. Into what? You'd think we'd know by now. But all we see are ruptures across Europe. An economic volcano waiting to erupt. No real desire to stop it.  

 Not sure if people think about this sort of stuff, but i kinda thought a spitting overcast day played to the "no's' - while bursts of sunshine would play to the 'Yes's'. It rained most the day. Around here anyway. In days by-gone I'd have looked at that as a positive. The truth is now, whatever the result, you'd have to have a third-eye or be a Capitalist to see the positive in this one. 

Here's that chapter -

Poll Axed

I rose at six. Mitch had Mum dressed already. Mitch decided not to vote.

“Can’t they take ‘No’ for an answer?” he scolded in that squeaky voice of his. I'm sure he puts it on. To annoy me. After a quick coffee we set off. It was nice to walk with her; we don't get out much these days.

We arrived at the polling station just after seven. We were told we were the first. In my life, that felt like a little honour. I had my arm around Mum and pushed it forward, so she could hand in her form to secure a vote.

“Ms. Booker, it's lovely to see you out and about,” said a heavy-breasted lady sat on an uncomfortable chair. Mum stared forward at the blackboard behind the ladies.

“She's not quite awake,” I remarked, as they handed her the card.

“And here's yours, Mr. Booker,” she said. I smiled at her, before marching Mum behind the booth.

“I’m sorry Mr. Booker, but you can’t be with her behind there. One voter to a booth,” one of the ladies said, rising from her perch.

“It’s OK,” I said. “She forgot her glasses. Blind as a bat.”

“You’ll just have to bring her back later then” she said, her fifteen minutes in the corridor of power gone to her head.

“But…,” I began.

“But nothing,” she said. She took the polling card from Mum who in turn didn't help as she gazed off into space.

“I’m sorry Ms. Booker,” she said as she took it. No response. Just a vacuum.

I left Mum there as the lady talked to her. I quickly ran behind another booth. I put an X in the ‘No’ box. I walked up and put it in the voting box, returned to Mum and began to walk out.

“See you later, Mr. Booker,” the lady cried after us. Probably in there now talking about us behind our back. Hope those tits give her back pain. What sort of a Irish patriot is she anyway?

“Don’t worry, Mum,” I said. “When the result comes in tomorrow, we’ll have the last laugh.”

Today. Today we were heroes. 

The very next day - 

Freud

The people have spoken. The result is in. Ireland has approved the ratification of the Lisbon Treaty by a majority of 2/1. Didn't take us long to change our minds, did it? Hopes of 500 million Europeans resting on us. Felt kinda powerful. A chance to – ah fuck it. Who cares!

Maybe Freud was right about us after all when he allegedly said, “This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.” Can't argue with you there, Sigmund. 

***

Nostalgia. You can't beat it. Wonder what I'll be writing tomorrow? I get the feeling there's more money in erotica! Certainly beats filling out these forms. 

Why do they want to know my interests? It's a job chaperoning a buffer! Where do you see yourself in 5 years time? I can't see tomorrow for feck sake. Email: donbooker@bufferservices.com. donbooker@icouldntgiveaflyinfuxk.org.

Forms need to be in by Saturday, Linda said. 37 in so far. They could do an X-factor thingy - for the Tube. Novice buffers. Bound to create a mass of hits. Free advertising. Bit of fun. 

Champion buffer of the year : ??? 

1st prize - Minimum wage!

I wonder if Eamon and Enda are at home now. Shitting themselves. Remember milk bottles? The ones with the foil tops? I imagine they are like those crows that used peck the top of the bottles trying to get the goodness inside. We'll know soon enough whether they managed to crack the bottle. And to sign off on a hopeful note - I never did see it happen. 

Today. Today, I'm tired.