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| October
2004 |
Issue
#87 : Miscellaneous
Posts During October 2004 [650]
|
Bin Laden Springs Back to Life
I can only express my astonishment.
After
disappearing from view and sound since December 2001, Osama bin Laden (OBL) has
apparently sprung back into life with an authentic video recording whose
purpose seems to be push the terrorist line Anyone but Bush
. I have to eat humble pie. Since
September 2002, I have
been
declaring that
OBL is either dead or so badly injured and
disfigured that he dare not show himself. Colunist Mark Steyn also
believed he was dead.
Well, regrettably, it
seems he is
not dead. He was perhaps badly injured, but if so has made an
excellent recovery over the intervening three years. Though the
video looks convincing to a non-expert like me, there are nevertheless
others who advance reasons for believing that the video is fake. For
example,
 | Some say
that the video does not portray OBL's usual belligerent yet poetic way of
speaking Arabic. |
 | He whines, un-Osama-like that he does not hate
freedom,
and his remark that any
nation that does not attack us will not be attacked
smacks of desperation. |
 | Moreover, the transcript
shows he makes but two passing references to
Allah, without even bothering to praise him, and this in holy month of Ramadan.
Not very Islamic. |
Coming as it does just ahead of the US
Presidential election, the video's purpose is clearly to influence the
vote (just as Al Qaeda's Madrid bombings did).
But how?
Whilst claiming glory for 9/11, OBL is trying - according to Islamic expert
Fahmy Howeidi - to convince people that, if
they do not vote for President Bush, they will be more
safe, more secure. OBL
accuses Mr Bush of telling lies, and mocks him for reading My
Pet Goat
to children as the planes crashed into buildings, just as movie producer
Michael Moore does in Fahrenheit
911.
In other words, OBL, like Mr Moore, is endorsing Senator
Kerry! What wonderful, vote-catching news for the Republicans. The world's
most notorious terrorist is afraid of Mr Bush. The indomitable Mark
Humphrys dug up this apposite slogan some weeks ago, which says it
all.
So Mr bin Laden is alive and well, but not quite as sharp as he once was
and as he still thinks he is. He's a bit like England soccer captain David
Beckham bragging about his cleverness in deliberately earning a yellow
card, not realising his stupidity
in announcing his cleverness.
George Bush can thank, at least in part, OBL's latest video for the victory
he will earn on Tuesday.

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Democracy
Challenge to Irish Left
I had another ding-dong earlier in October in the
letters page of the subscription-only Irish Times with Raymond Deane, the
accomplished professional musician who is also Chair (musical chair?) of the
left-wing Ireland Palestine
Solidarity Campaign.
Mr Dean had complained
about Israel's incursions into Gaza in response to Palestinian rocket
attacks from Gaza aimed at (as usual) civilians in Israel. Apologists
for those who
consistently target civilians consider the correct Israeli response is,
well, to do nothing.
But his assertion, not for the first
time, that Israel only purports to be democratic
prompted me to hurl at him a challenge. I had plagiarised it from
Mark Humphrys in his exchange early this year with the Irish
Peace Society, another left-wing organisation which despite its name
avidly supports Palestinian terrorism.
I invited
Mr Dean
 |
to name any state in the Middle East other than
Israel with any
democratic legitimacy whatsoever, from universal suffrage to a free press
to an independent supreme court. |
 |
Or to name one with even the freedom to
establish bodies which are openly anti-government, or pro-gay, or
atheist.
Again, Israel is the only such country. |
He replied
a week later to my defence of Israel's actions in Gaza but dodged the
challenge, understandably because he can't counter it. So the next
day, the editor published a reiteration
of my challenge.
Simultaneously, Mark Humphys picked this up and restated
the challenge (which is originally his) at the end of his own lengthy
exchange with the Irish Peace Society.
We're both still waiting. The Left has no
answer, other than further defense of murderous tyrannical regimes, such
as that of the Palestinian Authority.
The imminent demise of Yasser Arafat at least now
affords the long-suffering Palestinians some chance for the future.
A promising sign is that former PA Prime Minister Abu Mazen, whom I once
described as a great
hope for the Palestinians, and whom Mr Arafat would
like to kill, is now apparently chairing
PA meetings in Mr Arafat's absence.
(I wonder what prompted President Jacques Chirac to
send the French Presidential jet to pick him up and bring him to Paris?)

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Talking Turkey
Giancarlo Casale explains
how the Unofficial Bird of the United States
got named after a Middle Eastern country
How did the turkey get its name? This seemingly harmless question popped into my head one
morning as I realized that the holidays were once again upon us.
After all, I thought, theres nothing more American than a
turkey. Their meat saved the
pilgrims from starvation during their first winter in New England.
Out of gratitude, if you can call it that, we eat them for
Thanksgiving dinner, and again at Christmas, and gobble them up in
sandwiches all year long. Every
fourth grader can tell you that Benjamin Franklin was particularly fond of
the wild turkey, and even campaigned to make it, and not the bald eagle,
the national symbol. So how
did such a creature end up taking its name from a medium sized country in
the Middle East? Was it just
a coincidence? I wondered.
The next day I mentioned my musings to my landlord,
whose wife is from Brazil. Thats
funny, he said, In Portuguese the word for turkey is peru.
Same bird, different country. Hmm.
With my curiosity piqued, I decided to go straight to
the source. That very
afternoon I found myself a Turk and asked him how to say turkey in
Turkish. Turkey? he
said. Well, we call turkeys hindi, which means,
you know, from India. India? This
was getting weird.
I spent the next few days finding out the word for
turkey in as many languages as I could think of, and the more I found out,
the weirder things got. In
Arabic, for instance, the word for turkey is Ethiopian bird,
while in Greek it is gallapoula or French girl.
The Persians, meanwhile, call them buchalamun which means,
appropriately enough, chameleon.
In Italian, on the other hand, the word for turkey is
tacchino which, my Italian relatives assured me, means
nothing but the bird. tacchino
also means peacock;
moreover turkey also translates as pollo
d'India,
or Indian
chicken.]
But,
they added still on matters Italian, it reminds us of something else.
In Italy we call corn, which as everybody knows comes from America,
grano turcoTurkish grain.
So here we were
back to Turkey again!
And as if things werent already confusing enough,
a further consultation with my Turkish informant revealed that the Turks
call corn misir which is also their word for Egypt!
By this point, things were clearly getting out of
hand. But I persevered
nonetheless, and just as I was about to give up hope, a pattern finally
seemed to emerge from this bewildering labyrinth.
In French, it turns out, the word for turkey is dinde,
meaning from India, just like in Turkish.
The words in both German and Russian had similar meanings, so I was
clearly on to something. The
key, I reasoned, was to find out what turkeys are called in India, so I
called up my high school friends wife, who is from an old Bengali
family, and popped her the question.
Oh, she said, We dont have
turkeys in India. They come
from America. Everybody knows
that.
Yes, I insisted, but what do you
call them?
Well, we dont have them! she said.
She wasnt being very helpful.
Still, I persisted:
Look, you must have a word for them.
Say you were watching an American movie translated from English and
the actors were all talking about turkeys.
What would they say?
Well ... I suppose in that case they would just
say the American word, turkey. Like I said, we dont have
them.
So there I was, at a dead end. I began to realize only too late that I had unwittingly
stumbled upon a problem whose solution lay far beyond the capacity of my
own limited resources. Obviously
I needed serious professional assistance.
So the next morning I scheduled an appointment with Prof.
Şinasi Tekin of Harvard University, a world-renowned philologist
and expert on Turkic languages. If
anyone could help me, I figured it would be Professor Tekin.
As I walked into his office on the following Tuesday,
I knew I would not be disappointed. Prof.
Tekin had a wizened, grandfatherly face, a white, bushy,
knowledgeable beard, and was surrounded by stack upon stack of just the
sort of hefty, authoritative books which were sure to contain a solution
to my vexing Turkish mystery. I
introduced myself, sat down, and eagerly awaited a dose of Prof.
Tekins erudition.
You see, he said, In the Turkish
countryside there is a kind of bird, which is called a çulluk.
It looks like a turkey but it is much smaller, and its meat is very
delicious. Long before the
discovery of America, English merchants had already discovered the
delicious çulluk, and began exporting it back to England, where it became
very popular, and was known as a Turkey bird or simply a turkey.
Then, when the English came to America, they mistook the birds here for
çulluks,
and so they began calling them turkey also.
But other peoples werent so easily fooled.
They knew that these new birds came from America, and so they
called them things like India birds, Peruvian birds,
or Ethiopian birds. You see, India, Peru
and Ethiopia were all common names for the New World in the
early centuries, both because people had a hazier understanding of
geography, and because it took a while for the name America
to catch on.
Anyway, since that time Americans have begun
exporting their birds everywhere, and even in Turkey people have started
eating them, and have forgotten all about their delicious çulluk. This is a shame, because çulluk meat is really much, much
tastier.
Prof Tekin
seemed genuinely sad as he explained all this to me.
I did my best to comfort him, and tried to express my regret at
hearing of the unfairly cruel fate of the delicious çulluk. Deep down, however, I was ecstatic. I finally had a solution to this holiday problem, and knew I
would be able once again to enjoy the main course of my traditional
Thanksgiving dinner without reservation.
Now if I could just figure out why they call those
little teeny dogs Chihuahuas....
To summarise ...
|
Country
/ Language
|
Local
Name
|
Translated
to English
|
|
America,
Britain
|
Turkey
|
Turkey
|
|
Brazil / Portuguese
|
Peru
|
Peru
|
|
Arabic
|
|
Ethiopian Bird
|
|
Greece
|
Gallapoula
|
French girl
|
|
Iran / Persian
|
Buchalamun
|
Chameleon
|
|
Italy
|
Tacchino,
or
Pollo d'India
Corn = Grano turco
|
Peacock, or
Indian chicken
= Turkish grain
|
|
Turkey
|
Hindi
Corn = Misir
|
From
India
= Egypt
|
|
France
|
Dinde
|
From India
|
|
German
|
|
From India
|
|
Russia
|
|
From India
|
|
India
|
Turkey
|
Turkey
|

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Beached Wales
A
bureaucratic blunder has left Wales off a map of Europe on the cover of
the 2004 edition of the prestigious Eurostat Statistical Compendium (price
50), which contains all the facts and figures on Europe.
All EU member states, and the rest of Britain, are accurately
represented on the cover. But Wales has disappeared and been
replaced by water. (Few are shedding tears.)
Wales has been sliced off along a line from Chester to the Severn
Estuary, roughly along the English border, which is now just a beach, with
to the west nothing but sea until you reach Ireland.
The
Daily Mail understands perfectly ...
Meanwhile, those negligent EUrocrats seem to be so
emb- arrassed that they've taken down the report from their web page.
It's supposed
to be here,
or in French here,
but it isn't.
Internet Commentator points
out that the Welsh don't care if their country disappears provided
other EU citizens' tax money continues to flow into their
coffers.

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What I'm
currently reading
N E W !
This is the definitive account of the
most foul human being ever to have walked the earth. No other
monster comes close - not Stalin, not Lenin, not Hitler, not Pol Pot,
not Genghis Khan, not Ivan the Terrible.
The book is
meticulously researched, magnificently structured, beautifully written -
and drips innocent Chinese blood from almost every one of its 971
riveting pages.
Moa Tse Tung was
obsessed with simply killing as many of his countrymen as he could by
whatever means in order to maintain the remainder in such a permanent
state of terror that the idea of turning on him would never even cross
their wretched minds.
He also starved
peasants in their hundreds of millions in order to confiscate the food
they grew to pay the Soviets for a gargantuan armaments infrastructure.
Most terribly, Mao
was absolutely right. He proved that terror is the most effective
way of retaining power. Too many despots have tried to emulate
him, but none with the same single-minded ferocity.
Disgustingly, people name
restaurants in his honour
+++++

English historian
Charles Foley's
fascinating account
of
an honourable man who introduced the concept of Special Forces to the
German military during World War 2.
In
that role, as Hitler's trusted operative, he recounts much derring-do,
such as rescuing Mussolini from mountain top captivity, bluffing the
then Hungarian strongman into surrendering, wreaking covert havoc on the
Allied invasion of France.
Particularly moving is his account, from the German viewpoint,
of the invasion of the Soviet Union and
the stoic, stolid, suicidal resistance of the Russians.
This page-turner of a book concludes with a forecast of the role of
Special Forces in future conflicts, which has turned out to be
surprisingly prescient.
It
was written in 1954.
+++++

The purpose of this
500-page novel is to present in graphic detail the horrors of living,
fighting and - above all - dying in (and under)
the trenches during
the First World War.
It
does so,
both commendably
and shockingly.
You certainly cannot come away with other than feelings of
deep admiration and sympathy for what those young men endured,
not to mention the distraught families at home, in their tens of
thousands, when the dreaded news of their sons' demise arrived.
But the book is spoilt by the introduction of a storyline which is
sentimental and distracting. Much of it is frankly boring. You
might enjoy the sex which is detailed and graphic, but it's unnecessary.
Also, the interminable, repetitive description, going on for over 40
pages, of being
buried alive in a collapsed tunnel,
just ends up
being irritating.
About 200 pages should have been edited out.
+++++
Other books
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After
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SOUTH AFRICA
England get the Silver,
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Over the competition,
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