Jesus Saves

There's an article on Dutch ceefax this afternoon that announced the publication of the bible in, and I quote, "text language". With text language these people mean the words we (and with we I mean not-me) use in text messages.

Usually I'm quite conservative considering my choice of words and the way to write them, but many of my fellow human beings are not. Seeing that the word 'great' is very long and takes at least 20 seconds to type, it is nowadays spelled as "gr8". You becomes "u", you get the idea. A lot of those shortened terms come from the internet, of course, and I myself am a faithful user of "Lol", "brb", "btw" and other shortened terms, but I generally keep them from papers and applications (as should u.... eh you).

And now people in Friesland (what a surprise) have decided to publish the bible.... as written in text language.

I swear to God I kid you not.

The article even included an example of how the new bible will be like. In the original bible (if you're confused, the original is the one that does not include "lol" anywhere) God introduces himself (AA meeting? blind date? court hearing? inquering minds want to know!) the following: "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end of everything, says the Lord", a little self obsessed, but clear. The text version, on the other hand, would be something like this: "I = A&O th bgng & th en, sz th alm8y Gd". Granted, it's shorter.

What I don't get is why they would want to make it in the first place. Last time I checked the bible is both long and quite complicated, adding &'s might make it less long but certainly not a whole lot easier to digest. I can perhaps understand where somebody would get the idea (bar, late, too many beers, annoying person-who's-not-quite-as-drunk-as-you saying it can't be done) but generally as soon as the hangover is gone so is the stupid idea.

What I do know is that it's not going to do anything. Nobody is going to read the bible because of this (confused fat high school kid with glasses... maybe, but that's it!). God knows (literary!) how much time, energy, ink and trees have been wasted on this idea. And this made me sad.

But not as sad as reading articles on the famine that will hit Kenya and other African countries in the next few weeks. According to the Kenyan president at least 150 million dollar is needed within the next month but so far hardly any money is coming in. In certain parts of Kenya it hasn't rained in years and if the April rains fail again this year, thousands (if not more) will die of hunger.

I've got an idea, maybe those bible translating morons could send God a text message (oh I'm sorry a txt mssg) it's so short they don't even have to shorten it up:

"Make it rain you f#cking bastard"

EJD

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Day in the United States, a day Americans nowadays spent celebrating or complaining about the position of African Americans in the USA. Since I am neither American by birth, black or currently living in the US I generally forget all about MLK day until I read about it on MSNBC or Slate. When I then do, for the first few seconds I wonder why Americans have a yearly MILK day and how much lobbying dairy producers had to do before they got one, and then I realise I do American history and I've heard of that King fella before.

Eitherhoo, MLK day is important because it helps people (and with people I mean Americans so yes I am stretching the definition a little..... KIDDING!) remember how only decades ago black people were not allowed to use the same water fountains as white people and how now, even though we all love Oprah, most black people still can't get the same level of payment white people get.

While reading another blog (by someone I shall not mention to for reasons similar to those explained in "It's Christmas Time" (see below) ) I was reminded that there is no such day for gay people. Sure, there's World Aids Day but since AIDS is now spreading fastest under heterosexuals that day has pretty much been hijacked (also it doesn't quite scream partay! now does it). Of course there are the different pride festivals throughout the world, but if you do not like running around in your underwear in the rain the fun is fairly limited.

Which is why I'm here to introduce a new day of remembrance: Elton John Day.

Obviously there were other candidates, even dead people which generally adds to the rememberin' we all love so much, but I think that with Elton John Day a combination can be made of everything of gay life;

For starters there's Camp-Elton, the one who used to dress like Mozart or Minnie Mouse and loved Princess Diana. Then there's Bitchy-Elton, the one that calls Madonna a bitch and complains about other people's work. There's Formerly-Straight-Elton, the one that was married to a woman earlier and there's Gay-Rights-Elton the one that recently civil-partnershipped (darnit it is a verb!) his partner. And let's not forget Stop-Aids-Now-Elton.

On top of that: everybody loves at least one Elton song. You may hate Candle in the Wind (and you may be right) but you might love Guess that's why they call it the Blues or Bitch is Back or one of the other nine zillion hits he had.

Down part? We'll also be stuck with Kiki Dee, but we'll survive, one EJD at a time.

Supermarket

Last night I was in the supermarket trying to get some food, as, I suppose, one generally does in supermarkets. I was on my way from the candy section to the juice section (notice how I go from 'stuff that will kill you when you eat it too much' to 'stuff that will only kill your teeth when you drink it too much?) when a woman stepped on the back of my foot.

Obviously this really isn't so dramatic. It happens to all of us occasionally. Also, it wasn't like she wrestled me to the floor, kicked me in the crotch, planted a burning cross in my backpack and called my mother a whore. But, I think I can safely say that we will all agree that in supermarket etiquette stepping on someone is pretty much in the same category as being an active member of the KKK.

And so, when I felt a weird feeling at the end of my leg, I turned around to see what it was. 'It' turned out to be a confused looking girl of about 20, that looked at me in complete distress and then exclaimed: "Yes! It was me! It's not like I did it on purpose!".

She made it sound like I had closed down the store and interviewed every costumer, comparing their footsizes to the grey spot on the bak of my shoe until I finally, after hours of merciless interrogating with light bulbs pointed in peoples faces and threats of abuse of some kind thrown at them, pointed my finger at her and said "It was you! You will pay you evil bitch from hell!". Granted, I considered all of that, but I did not do it!

What was even weirder is that I did not even give the girl my patented 'Oh you are so going to burn in hell' -look. All I did was look surprised and after that I had already started my 'Oh I know you didn't do it on purpose, but thank you for apologizing, God bless ya' smile when I realized.

She.
Did.
Not.
Apologize.

All she did was acknowledge it was her. It's not like I expected her to fall on her knees, kiss my betrap-ped feet and beg for forgiveness (would I have liked it? Sure) but a simple 'sorry' would have been nice.

I guess I could have hated her, but she looked so weird and out of touch (black hair, black make-up, look in her eyes as if someone was going to punch her if she brought home the wrong cereals) that she just confused me.

Et flu Brutus?

I started the new year lying in bed surrounded in bodily flueds and tissues. This could mean I started the new year in a very entertaining way you readers really do not want to have a mental picture of, but unfortunately I had the flu.

I always get the flu at least twice every year, and although I'm hoping that because this time it fell on two years it'll count double I'm doubting it. Flu epedemics are, because I always get it someway or another, extremely fascinating to me: I'm either always getting sick before the big tidal wave of germs reaches the country (which makes me feel special and sorry for spreading it further) or I get sick right around the point the epedemic is over and everybody is already back on their feet (which makes me feel like murdering relatives and friends who had the flu before me). Either way, it sucks.

Being sick used to be fun however. In the olden days (when people still said 'ye', like in ehm... 'ye olden days'?) being sick meant you had to stay home. Staying home meant you did not have to go to school. School, even if you didn't completely despise it, was evil. So the flu was basically a way of getting some extra vacation days. It also meant my mom had to be even nicer to me than she usually is and not complain that my room was always a mess (I have the saddest "Mom, I'm sick" eyes I tell you).

Sure, it included sweating, and coughing, and having slime smeared all over your face and, after a few days, smelling like a corpse. Sure, you missed stuff at school that you would later have to redo faster than everybody else. But all of that was acceptable suffering! My body and the germs made a very simple deal: you guys can play around a little as long as you don't kill me, and I'll relax for a few days. Everybody was happy (perhaps excluding my mom who had to take days off from work, but you know, there's casualties in every war).

Nowadays flu is my enemy. First of all, I don't live at home anymore and for some reason my mom will not bring tea and liquorice to my bed anymore when I have a sore throat (it's only 30 minutes by car, geez). Also, I have to go out and hunt down my own food and then serve it myself too. Sure, the closest supermarket is 2 minutes from my house and I have an oven and a microwave, but come on!

More importantly, I don't have time to be sick! There are papers to write! Books to read! Other people's papers to read! Teachers to email! And even when none of that is happening, there's more fun things to do! Hang out with friends! Go to the movies!

Is there a solution? No.

Is it usefull to complain about it? No.

Am I going to continue boring people with it?

Honestly, have we met?