You should definitely watch these two films if you want to see the human side of the immigration problem and get another perspective than the dominant racist, xenophobic, simplistic and short-sighted ideology and rhetoric.
Immigrants are streaming into Greece looking for a better future, abandoning their own countries because it is impossible for them to live in them anymore — a decision many Greeks, young as well as old, are too considering at this moment. It is not Greece they are after specifically, it’s the European dream. Much to their dismay, Greece not only proves not to be much of a hospitable place at all (hello, Χρυση Αυγή), it actually forbids immigrants to leave for other EU countries and in may cases go back to where they came from; this is in accordance with the Dublin II regulation which states that individual member countries are responsible for examining applications for asyllum by immigrants. This of course puts Greece in a dire situation compared to, say, Germany or Denmark, since of course it’s situated at the very borders of the EU and has to take care of countless more people.
Wouldn’t it be great if in a spirit of solidarity every member state had to take care of its fair share of the immigrants that land in the union’s borders? Now there are 4, maybe 5 countries that take in the most people. This sum divided by 27 would make things much more manageable. But is manageabality the desrired outcome? Is solidarity a desired stance? Apparently not.
Bottom line: it’s not the immigrants’ problem — we live in a globalised environment and no-one can control or pretend to limit the movements of entire populations: it’s the official European migration policies that smell of foul injustice and Greece’s willingness to follow them. Of course it would: these policies are perfect for creating collective scapegoats; scapegoats it has conveniently found in the faces of the hundreds of thousands of immigrants.
At this point in time, with Greeks deep in economical, political and ontological crisis, politicians knee-deep in shit but still doing their best to bring the country to an even lower point for their own questionable boals, and Europe having targeted the PIGS as responsible for a systemic problem, BOTH the Greek status quo and the European elites benefit from creating a targeted, marginalised, unsustainable immigrant influx. If you have lots of immigrants, impoverished and humiliated on a daily basis, you have the perfect mix for crime and insecurity to rise which in turn breed hatred within the resident population; just the right conditions for people to avoid seeing the real problems and point fingers away from the real culprits. It’s a win-win situation for all but the citizens and the immigrants themselves of course.
As long as Greeks point their little fingers to the immigrants, conveniently blame them for everything and anything, claiming back the moral and racial superiority which were the only contributors to the self-respect which was robbed from them, and avoid looking at the reality which has been put in place by the government and the EU, the problem will only get worse. As long as Greece itselfhappily remains a scapegoat for all of the EU’s planned and structured abnormalities and injustices, there won’t be a solution. In fact, you should keep in mind that some “solutions” to problems are designed precisely in order to not end but prolong or even intensify the problem they’re supposed to rectify.
Unless, of course, we get the SURPRISE! Mihaloliakos so chillingly promises us in the second video were he ever to come to power (skip to 48:50). This was before Golden Dawn became a parliamentary party, mind you. Before a lot of the disgusting developments of recent months.
Just in time for the pre-elective mood. Let’s all go vote in a state of desperation and good things are surely going to happen! 🙂
On a completely different note:
“Around 30 songs were recorded for the Insurgentes album. 10 were included on the final album, and another 5 on the bonus disc that came with the special edition. Here is another one that was left unfinished at the time, but I finished and mixed it in January 2010. Gavin Harrison on drums.”
So, of 30 inevitably great songs, we’ve only heard 15. Right… Here’s one of the rest.
Τις τελευταίες εβδομάδες ξυπνάω νωρίς και πάω για ύπνο σχετικά νωρίς. Μπορώ να πω ότι η ολοκληρωτική αλλαγή στον βιορυθμό μου είχε θετικές επιδράσεις στην διάθεση μου. Το προτείνω ανεπιφύλακτα σε όλους τους ξενύχτιδες. (τώρα ξυπνάω την ίδια ώρα που πριν 4 μήνες έπεφτα για ύπνο).
Το φθινόπωρο έχει μπει για τα καλά. Είναι 8:30 και ο ήλιος δεν έχει ανατείλει ακόμα. Όπως κάνω κάθε πρωί, ανοίγω το πισί πρώτο και διαβάζω τα νέα της ημέρας. Αυτό έκανα και σήμερα. Διάβασα τα μεγάλα νέα της ημέρας. Αποφάσισα πως ήταν ώρα για πρωινό. Συνήθως τρώω γιαούρτι (το πολύ υγρό, που είναι στην συσκευασία του γάλατος, είτε με γεύση μπανάνα/αχλάδι, είτε με φρούτα του δάσους — κοινώς αποδεκτά ως φράουλα και βατόμουρο — είτε με γεύση πορτοκάλι) με μούσλι, όμως το γιαούρτι μου τέλειωσε χτες. Πάω στην κουζίνα να μου φτιάξω ένα σάντουιτς.
Ανοίγοντας την πόρτα και βγαίνοντας στο κοινόχρηστο σαλόνι, ανοίγει την πόρτα και ο τυπάς από το δωμάτιο νο. 5, ένας από τους έξι Δανούς που μένουν στο κτίριο (οι υπόλοιποι έξι εκ των δώδεκα είναι ένας Έλληνας — εγώ –, ένας Βόσνιος, μια Ιαπωνέζα, ένας Ισπανός, μια Ουγγαρέζα και ένας τυπάς αγνώστου υπηκοότητας, μάλλον Ιταλός, ο οποίος φοράει καρέ παντελόνια, μαγειρεύει κάτι περίεργα πράγματα και παίζει Νeed for Speed και ακούει Red Hot Chili Peppers στον κοινόχρηστο χώρο). , ευτυχώς όχι ο πραγματικά εκνευριστικός, σχεδόν επικίνδυνος ούγκανος γορίλλας που μόνο από το όνομα καταλαβαίνεις ότι είναι Δανός, τρέφεται με πρωτείνες της συσκευασίας απορρυπαντικού και κάνει πουσ-απς στο σαλόνι βαρώντας παλαμάκια. Δεν ήταν αυτός που ξύπνησε την ίδια ώρα με μένα, ήταν ο άλλος, ο πιο συγκρατημένος, αυτός με την μηχανή έξω στην είσοδο, αυτός ο οποίος συνήθως παίρνει τον ρόλο του διαμεσολαβητή και μεταφραστή για τις άναρθρες κραυγές του γορίλλα που θυμίζουν Δανέζικα (κάποιοι θα υποστήριζαν με ζήλο ότι τα Δανέζικα ήδη δεν απέχουν και πολύ από άναρθρες κραυγές) όταν έχει εκνευριστεί που η κουζίνα δεν είναι στην εντέλεια της καθαριότητας και σπάει τοστιέρες πετώντας τις στο πάτωμα επειδή “ξανά, κανείς δεν πέταξε τα σκουπίδια”.
Μετά τις καλημέρες στις οποίες συνήθως περιορίζεται η επικοινωνία μας, έσπασε την αναμενόμενη σιωπή σήμερα λέγοντας «Η Ευρωπαική Ένωση σήμερα έσωσε την χώρα σου, τώρα δεν πρέπει να πληρώσετε όλα σας τα χρέη». Τον κοίταξα και με έναν αναστεναγμό του απάντησα: «το ξέρω, μόλις το διάβασα» και πήρα τον δρόμο για την κουζίνα, θέλοντας να δείξω ότι θα προτιμούσα να μην μιλήσω για το συγκεκριμένο θέμα. Εκείνος συνέχισε, με ένα ύφος λες και εγώ προσωπικά έφταιγα για το χρέος: «Τώρα ελπίζω τα πράγματα να μην ξανακυλίσουν. Η Άνγκελα Μέρκελ είπε επίσης ότι άλλες χώρες από την ανατολική Ευρώπη θα πρέπει να πάρουν τις ευθύνες τους στα σοβαρά . Αυτό πρέπει να γίνει αν θέλουμε η ΕΕ να πετύχει και να μην χρειαστεί η Γερμανία να τις βοηθάει όλες να κάνουν ό,τι θα έπρεπε να έχουν την σοβαρότητα να κάνουν μόνες τους!»
«Δεν είναι βοήθεια αυτό. Το χρέος μας θα διπλασιαστεί μέσα σε λίγα χρόνια. Το κούρεμα είναι απλά ένα τέχνασμα των μέσων για να μην πουν στα ίσια ότι είναι χρεωκοπία και πλήρης παραχώρηση των εξουσιαστικών δικαιωμάτων».
«Δεν ξέρω, τι άλλο θα έπρεπε να έχουν κάνει;»
Θα μπορούσα να έχω πει πολλά πράγματα εκείνη την στιγμή. Πολλά πέρασαν από το μυαλό μου. Αλλά απλά είπα ένα
I regret this does not exist online in its entirety, I’m sure everyone would love it as much as I did. I still sing “Eg har klina med ein skallamann!” whenever I remember it, not caring about the risk of people misunderstanding me!
Eläimiä eläimille, a deliciously disgusting Finnish short. No trace of it exists online. I hope one day it does so it is available for all to see.
And the one that struck me the most, The Green Wave, on the forged elections of Iran in 2009 and the uprising that followed (click on the link just for the website design excellence, if regrettably you are not interested in the film itself).
Green is the color of hope. Green is the color of Islam. And green was the symbol of recognition among the supporters of presidential candidate Mir-Hossein Mousavi, who became the symbolic figure of the Green Revolution in Iran last year. The presidential elections on June 12th, 2009 were supposed to bring about a change, but contrary to all expectations the ultra-conservative populist Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was confirmed in office. As clear as was the result, as loud and justified were the accusations of vote-rigging. The on-going Where is my vote? protest demonstrations were again and again worn down and broken up with brutal attacks by government militia. Images taken from private persons with their cell phones or cameras bear witness to this excessive violence: people were beaten, stabbed, shot dead, arrested, kidnapped, some of them disappearing without trace. What remains is the countless number of dead or injured people and victims of torture, and another deep wound in the hearts of the Iranians.
THE GREEN WAVE is a touching documentary-collage illustrating the dramatic events and telling about the feelings of the people behind this revolution. Facebook reports, Twitter messages and videos posted in the internet were included in the film composition, and hundreds of real blog entries served as reference for the experiences and thoughts of two young students, whose story is running through the film as the main thread. The film describes their initial hope and curiosity, their desperate fear, and the courage to yet continue to fight. These fictional ‘storylines’ have been animated as a motion comic – sort of a moving comic – framing the deeply affecting pictures of the revolution and the interviews with prominent human rights campaigners and exiled Iranians. Ali Samadi Ahadi’s documentary is a very contemporary chronicle of the Green Revolution and a memorial for all of those who believed in more freedom and lost their lives for that.
After watching The Green Wave in Øst for Paradis, the local cinephile theatre, there was a live Skype discussion with members of Amnesty International (one of them was in Iran in 2009) and Ramy Raoof, an activist from Egypt that leaked info out through Twitter during the “Arab Spring” (and still does). He tried to make clear the point that Facebook and Twitter, often used as the taglines of the Arab Spring by Western media, were not pivotal in organising the revolution; even after Mubarak had cut off the Internet and SMS, people of course used other means along side digital means. Ramy stressed that, even if Twitter and Facebook had not existed, the revolution would still have taken place…
…and added that, in Egypt today, the “temporary military government” after Mubarak has taken too many liberties and is not looking to be all that temporary at all…
This film shook me as few have. Imagine living in a country where you could be tortured or killed just because you were out in the streets demanding your vote to count, where the government would stop at nothing to muff you or your blog. Where merely me posting this could be deemed a crime punishable by… well, any means necessary. Maybe it’s far too easy to imagine other countries having such horrible regimes. Anyone who has read or watched Persepolis will be familiar with Iran’s difficult recent past and to see that things have certainly not improved is at least troubling. It also made me think about our own situation in Greece and how far things could go before spiraling into a similar scenario… When Alex Grigoropoulos was shot in December 2008, Greece was in flames for a couple of days. What would happen if (young) people got shot every day? Would people still go out to protest? Or would our generation freeze in terror, remembering that real protest against governments caught with their pants down could very well mean very real death, or worse? I have to admit that I don’t know how I would act if faced with these options. Looking at all of history’s failed revolutions, I do not want to shed blood for a pre-determinedly lost cause. Hell, even if the cause was not lost, I don’t want to die! Would a successful revolution won with the blood of hopefuls be worth it? Is anything won with blood worth it?
A 2001 film showing how IMF and globalisation destroyed Jamaica and its unknown side, unknown for us that only know the country for its reggae, rasta and marijuana.
Any similarities with 2001 Greece are purely coincidental and the display thereof is has not been intention of the author.
(Jamaican accent, beautiful as it is, can be a bit tough on our unaccustomed ears. I didn’t find a Youtube video with subtitles but it shouldn’t be a problem downloading the film and finding English subtitles if you really feeling like watching it. It’s worth the effort)
Higher education has been a hot topic for years in Greece. There has been a tug-o-war between the government and the academic community. The latter has been at worst trying to maintain a status-quo and at best seeking some beneficial changes in the educational system in Greece that have, however, thus far been stopped by greater social problems, for example: deep corruption, the constant loss of ground of government-owned services to private companies (the most prominent of which have indeed managed, quite [c]overtly to become caliphs instead of the “democratically-elected” caliphs) and a general collapse of any sense of unity or consensus on any subject among the Greek population, a live-and-let-die, every-man-for-his-own, a rise of absolute individualism that is in tune with the global spirit of the times. The government is under pressure by the powers that be, whoever those may, to act in accord with the spirit of these times: a deep and scary neo-liberalism that seeks to destroy any and all social and consciential conquests of the past few centuries in the name of the “free market”. It is a paradoxical aim, since at the same time this “free” market remains free only for those that already have the means necessary. The rest of the population is carefully prevented from coming close, with more severe taxation, liquid work contracts, lower salaries and worsening social care. A free market for a slave population. It reminds me of the good old tidbit of wisdom: “Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity”…
I decided to write this post today for three reasons. The first is that the Ministry of Education’s reform for Greek universities, a plan born by and completely in agreement with the above spirit of the times, is being discussed, agreed on in the Parliament and being set for immediate enforcement as I’m writing these lines. The second reason is that I have seen the quality of education possible and desirable in Denmark where I’m currently living — here they’re following the same spirit of the times as mentioned above, but at least they’re doing it well, with a straight face and with a clear conscience. The result is a higher education of great standards in every single way (and it’s free). To compare the situation in Greece and in Denmark just because they’re based on theoretically similar economic models would be like comparing a souvlaki bought from Plaka to one bought from your favourite souvlatzidiko. Just because they’re based on the same recipe does not mean they’re one and the same.
The third reason is that I’ve talked to Spanish people a lot about the situation in Spain, where similar laws and measures as the ones being cooked up in Greece as we speak have been in effect for a long time. Students not only have to pay for every single ECTS point they study for, if they fail their subject they have to pay for it again, and again… They have to pay for every single book, they have to pay for their enrollment, they have to pay for pretty much everything. This has neither made studying fairer nor has it upgraded the quality of education, it’s just the government freeing resources for other, presumably more important things (such as the Papal visit). My friend Ana, whenever I tell her that education in Greece is basically free, shakes her head in disbelief, uttering Spanish curses. Whenever I tell her that the Greek government wants to make things just like in Spain at the same time having a huge smile about it and shamelessly blurting out things like “national bet” and “responsible decision”, she cries: “Don’t let them Dimitris! You are so lucky to have free higher education. You must fight for it and defend it. Don’t let them take this away from you! Don’t be like us…” It’s a wake-up call, a sudden change of perspective, even moreso because I’m seeing extraordinary cultural similarities between Spain and Greece and the patterns followed in our economical problems. I can relate to the Spanish people and they can relate to us.
So what are we going to do about all this? Are we going to let them do as they please with our prospects and our lives? Will the spirit of post-modern individualism mark another victory this day? If it is does, I’m afraid it’s going to be another early, black celebration…
I sit for a coffee with friends. Sluuuurp! Up the straw it goes before anyone has even touched their own beverage of choice. It’s worse with alcoholic drinks… I don’t ever seem to realise that when it’s over, it’s over! And I just sip, sip sip the night away. I also eat and smoke faster than most people when in the company of others. It’s only then that comparison with others’ still full plates/glasses is possible and my worried, thoughtful scratching of beard is only natural. My solution? I just steal from the others’ food and drink.
22. I don’t know anything about Greek Music.
It has happened too many times to count: I’m with a big company at some taverna or place that is suitable for accommodating a number of people in the double digits. Everyone’s having fun, talking vividly and eating more vividly. Then, when everyone’s feeling cheerful, someone, somewhere, utters the words to the first song. And everyone catches on; and everyone sings along; and turn-in-turn everyone butts in with their own favourite Greek words and everyone else follows suit. It’s like that when there’s a live program as well. Guy playing the guitar, singing his songs that everyone knows. It doesn’t take much to take it out of you if you’ve drunk sufficient quantities of alcohol. “All together now!” And we all sing together.
Except me.
These songs… How should I put it. Yes. I might have heard them, I might even remember one or two lyrics just from sheer repetition (this kind of thing happens to me quite often), I usually remember the melody but I can never join the fun. Friends or acquaintances might know every single song by heart but I’m just left there to look around silently trying my best to have a good time but failing miserably, always thinking “wow. This feels so awkward. It sucks.”
Alas, such behaviours never go unnoticed. When everyone’s singing and they catch wind that I am not, they try to encourage me to join them. In the wake of their inevitable failure they look so disappointed in me, so… how should I say. There’s a certain Greek word that roughly translates into “party-pooper” and “killjoy” but lacks any of the playfulness of those two words. It’s kind of a brutal word, now that I think of it. It’s ξενέρωτος. Oh I’ve got that a lot throughout the years. I also get “you don’t know these songs?? You’re not really Greek”. I’ll let the look on my own face by this point to your imagination.
It feels as if knowing about Greek music is such a big part of our culture here that you can’t help not stick out like an alpine fox in the mud if you’ve kept well away from anything that has to do with the domestic musical product for pretty much your entire life. It’s not that I hate Greek music. I want to come to terms with it, explore and discover artists I’m bound to like or already know I like but haven’t bothered looking into more (Pavlos Sidiropoulos, Thanassis Papakonstantinou, Alkinoos Ioannidis, Lavrentis Maheritsas, works by Kavadias turned into songs). Some people in my life have helped me somewhat with discovering and getting to know some Greek music but never decisively and never beyond the realms of satisfying some of my polite curiosity. It’s that it’s polite curiosity at best.
What can I say? Maybe I’m not really Greek after all if I can’t, for the life of me, get into it all. Which is a perfect intro for my next hatred entry:
23. Nationalism.
Some Greeks call me Australian. Some (most?) Australians would call me Greek if I returned to OzzyLand. I’m really both and neither. My national identities sort of negate eachother but at the same time create a completely new existence, like a Yin and a Yang that alone are whole but together are whole-er. This may be the reason I could never exactly or comfortably identify with national ideas except for when I was only little (funny how “nationalist” children can be, or we’ve all been as children).
I don't like nor believe in flags but this could well be the flag of whatever my real nationality is. Designed by me.
This open-mindedness by default comes with a cost, however. A multicultural background always helps you break through the wall of deceit but at the same time alienates you from any and all cultures you might have some heritage from including the one you were born in. You start to inhabit your own space in the cultural web, at first as little more than a means to survive but eventually enjoying this uniqueness of yours, weaving your own new threads and connections, keeping the best from both worlds and inevitably creating a new one while you’re at it.
It’s all very nice and postmodern of course but other people look at you suspiciously. You’re one of them but not exactly. Everyone must belong, granted, but you can’t seem to decide whether you belong somewhere or nowhere. An ultimate decision is unlikely. And then there comes a day when you, tired of all this vagueness, ask yourself: why must nationality form the end-all be-all criteria of “belonging” in the first place? Aren’t there more important aspects to a person?
Nationalism might be one of the things I hate the most. I’ve come to hate it so much, so deeply, I find it hard to express myself, to find words that might accurately portray how deep this hatred goes. I’ll try.
To me, nationalism is a bit like football teams (another of the 99 things, can’t be a coincidence). You support an idea or a group of people just because you belong to it. Also called ethnocentricism for us social scientists. ~^, Having a concrete sense of national identity isn’t a bad thing on its own but most usually, just like with football teams and religion for that matter, it comes with denying everyone else’s right to do exactly what you’re doing: love their country above all else. Of course, again just like football teams and religions, nations are so self-centered they believe they are the only ones in the right, that there’s only enough room for none other than themselves at the top. Nations see everyone else as threats, as others, and that alone creates a self-fulfilling prophecy; when everyone sees everyone else as a threat some kind of threat is indeed created out of thin air. Just like when two people want to trust each other but because they’re afraid that the other will not want to comply, they keep to themselves, wholly generating their own image of untrustworthiness. It’s an endless loop.
Most nations have been founded on lies we now take for granted, unshakable truths, but this isn’t the time for me to go into detail on that. I hope you can understand what I mean. Nations have only served to distill fear, isolationism and hatred into people’s hearts. As a concept they encourage people to look for differences among themselves, not similarities, at least as far as inter-national relations are concerned. The similarities that can be found in the people within the borders of the nation-state are imaginary, arbitrary and never well-defined. Naturally, universal truths like love, friendship, global or special (species-al) co-operation are the first to die for the sake of national integrity and identity. It’s not much different than the ridiculous idea of loving your video game console so much you automatically hate, out of fear perhaps, anyone who might love another console. With the difference that people have died, killed others and created complex and perfectly valid — in social terms — historical narratives to support this madness in theory as well as in practice.
It’s everywhere, from the Olympic Games and Eurovision *spit* to wars of the past and lingering ideologies. In the name of your country you might be made to feel like it’s your duty to protect it against aliens and immigrants, secure your cultural traditions and history including religion and language, avoiding to look out to the world, because you were never taught that such a thing might not be such a bad idea after all. It might be dangerous. People out there are bad, they wish nothing more than the downfall of youand your country.
I’ve seen too many people get obsessed with lies about “racial” traits (I’m tired of listening to Greeks think they’re Ancient Greeks or their descendants… SO tired…), looking back and jerking themselves off with their nonsensical grand histories so that they can avoid looking at the awful present and the grim future while still feeling as if they’re something important or special. It enables people to feel good about themselves when they’ve been good for nothing. How can ANYBODY feel special about something they never earned or fought for themselves? I suppose unhappy times call for such sad measures.
If world borders, nation-states’ cornerstones, were torn down tomorrow, it’s probable that great wars would erupt, everyone still with their mind on national interests battling it out for a better place under the sun. A world without borders would require a world without ownership, another can of worms altogether. But in a world with no nations people might eventually discover the beauty of not having to fit in, of not being caged by your parents or what part of the earth you were born in but by what your actions are.
I wish people could feel the airy and open-mind they could have instead of the musty, dark closed-mind they’ve had since forever and take sick pride in.
24. Getting distracted for hours on the net doing nothing I set out to do.
“I’m going to log-in. I’m going to check my e-mail, see Kalionatis’s site, download the notes, after that I’m going to see Tsekouras’s site and download his notes. Then I’ll do a little bit of Delphi, after that I’ll send some e-mails to my beloved friends and check out Helix’s workcamps; I really want to take part in some of those programs!”…
*Escapist* *Hotmail* *MSN* *Matador* *Cubimension, writing* *Hotmail* *Game 2.0* *XKCD* *Cubimension, reading* *MSN* *Facebook stalking — I KNOW I DON’T HAVE A FACEBOOK!* *Goodreads* *tvtropes* *Wikipedia hopping* *Random site about some random new interest of mine* *Steam offers* *IMDB* *Flickr* *Some porn site* *MSN* *Couchsurfing* *Various interesting blogs* *Youtube* *Looking into all about that new interest of mine* *Grooveshark, discovering new bands I found out about on progarchives.com and allmusic.com* *MSN* *
Dayum… what’s left to re-check and re-re-check?*
What was it that I wanted to do again?
25. Loose handshakes.
“Oh hi… I’m *insert name here*, pleased to meet you”.
Oh, how many times have people made a bad impression on me just because that first greeting was accompanied by a loose handshake and a fleeting glance? Seriously people. Look at others in the eye when you meet them. Squeeze their palm like you mean it, NOT as if you couldn’t care less. Which is probably true anyway.
26. Moving deadlines.
“OK I’ll have it ready by then”. But “then” never comes. Being a person of the absolutely utter last minute, that means that I can never get anything done, doesn’t it?
27. Delays on booting.
Black screen. Reboot. Black screen. Reboot. BIOS startup holds up at memory testing. CTRL+ALT+DEL, nothing happens. Hard reset. BIOS completes startup, then computer freezes when loading Windows. Hard reset. BIOS startup insists there’s no more than a single core in my dual-core CPU and thus refuses to continue (out of spite?). Hard reset. At last, at some point, Cuberick decides to open his eyes, sweep off his waking grogginess and serve me, more a result of luck than anything.
The funny thing is that when it’s up and running there’s no problem whatsoever. Heh. Maybe it’s like how it’s with cars where you’ve got to get the engine all warmed-up first or something. Hermes knows how on Earth I’ve resisted beating Cuberick to a pulp time after time. Not that it matters. He’s already managed to beat himself to a pulp with no further assistance needed from me.
28. Facts caught up from Wikipedia.
-“Did you know that blah-blah?” *where blah-blah, insert your favourite fact you yourself have already read on Wikipedia but know plenty of stuff about it from non-Wiki sources*
-“Yes I did, but it sure doesn’t sound like anything you spent too much time looking into. What you did is you just presumed you’re the more informed of the two of us just because you’ve happened to have read the Wiki page. So, you see, Mr/Ms. Smartass, I’m afraid you’re not the only one around here reading and skimming pages on that site more than necessary”.
Asking further questions usually results in disappointment and less-than-accurate answers. And when it doesn’t, it feels so sterile I can almost smell the Dettol in the air.
29. It’s raining and my clothes won’t dry indoors!
I guess it happens everywhere. But my experience from Lesvos has taught me that, if it starts raining, oh, you can be certain that it won’t stop for at least the next few days. If my clothes are caught hanging to dry on their line outside during this humid time, you can foresee the rest. But if I leave them to dry inside, they may well take even longer to reach their rightful place inside by drawer! I recently wanted to wear one of my favourite sweaters. It had been hanging there to dry for at least a week on a drying rack Garret has lent me months now– I doubt he wants it back. I grabbed it, only to find that its hood was still moist! I threw it back to its place in disgust and hatred. Go to hell, humidity.
30. Losing progress in games.
Power cuts. Ancient game design. Human mistakes. “Retry” instead of “Save”. Forgetting that “this game doesn’t have autosave”. A patch destroying the previous versions savegames. Glitches and Blue Screens Of Death. Blue Screens of Death. Screens of Death.
Death.
Loss of progress in games, you’ve sent many good hours of life’s charms to gaming purgatory, to the nether-realm of human entertainment. You’ve made many a player blind with rage, unable to accept that their efforts and pain have only resulted in a mockingly not-up-to-date version of their save files. You’ve destroyed vast amounts of perfectly good faith in an equally good game, sent it down the drain, never to return, never allowing the player to give the perfectly good game another chance due to pure frustration. It’s the synonym of amnesia for gamers, the very meaning of oblivion.
If I could, loss of progress in games, I would slap you till your cheeks were raw and your voice not fit to cry for help.
It’s 2000. Every little kid and pre-teen (and some teens as well!) are heavily sick of Pokemon fever. The video games and TCG sell like crazy and you can see a Pikachu almost everywhere you go. Kind of like Dora the Explorer or Ben 10 of today. A little boy called Dimitris Hall is no exception and is sicker than most.
I caught the Pokemon bug (or should I say… the Bug Pokemon. Get it? ;p) early in 2000 and for a few years Pokemon was all I could think about. “I ate and breathed Pokemon”. Even today I can amaze my friends, who weren’t all that lesser of fans, by being able to recall almost the full roster of the 251 Pokemon of the first two generations. They have been etched in my long-term memory. Generations 3 and 4 were disappointments for me, so I recall being a big Poke-fan for around 3 years. Yes, the special years of pre-puberty I was collecting virtual monsters and animals. Cool, isn’t it? I still like Pokemon but the game has not grown up or matured at all, unlike me.
Mum found my Pokemon TCG collection a few weeks ago which had been almost lost after numerous moves. She handed me my albums and boxfuls and back I went to my 11 and 12-year old self, rediscovering old prize pieces and decks. Yes, decks. I wasn’t just a collector, but also a trainer! I used to play in the Pokemon League in Holargos with my old friend Aldo. We’d go to the League every second weekend, sometimes every Saturday. And it was fun! We weren’t top players because we frequently missed meetings, but it was good fun. I still have the original 8 Gym Badges in some box here in Nea Smyrni.
It’s amazing what a money-sink this collection had been. I have hundreds of rare cards, which means that my collection had easily set my parents back (especially mum, who I now realise had dealed with my addiction quite marvelously) several thousand euros. Imagine: every booster pack cost 1.400-1.500 drachmas, the equivalent of ~€4,5. And I have so many cards, I must had bought a couple of hundreds of booster packs. OK, I will admit that I did combine my collection with a friend of mine’s back then. He suddenly lost interest so I got to keep all of his cards after claiming that it would be impossible to split our collections as they were before we had merged them (wow… what a jerk! Addictions can be very dangerous matters, hurting self and friend alike…)
They were curious, happy and care-free times. Nostalgia has been singing in my ears after I re-discovered my cards, just as if it was some siren I fell in love with long ago. But the sirens’ song is captivating… dangerous and… tranquilizing in a bad way…. 10 years later, I no longer am 11 but 21, and in a state of acceptance, reconciliation and introspection about my past life and current personality. Holding on to my collection has no point at this time. I will keep some worthless cards so that I may play with friends sometime, it is a very enjoyable game after all, but the wise decision to take is to sell the good ones; let go of this collection that brings out emotions in me not at all unlike those Gollum felt when he craved the One Ring. But better yet, I can use the money I get from the cards to buy something that suits my current needs and dreams…
So. This is my collection. I have only listed my Holos, Promos and special cards. I have not listed any of my Non-Holo Rares (I’ve got loads!) or Uncommon/Common 1st Edition ones, although some of them might be more valuable than some of the holos. If I see that selling my holos is paying off, I’ll put them up as well. Comment on this post or e-mail me at dimitrishall (duckling) hotmail (dot) com if you’re interested in any of the cards.
For a better fomatted and more readable version of the below, download this.
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Cubilone’s Pokemon TCG Valuable Card Price List
Last Availability Update: 26/07/2010
Μy condition standards: Mint (M): New, best condition available. No visible scratches or blemishes. Near Mint (NM): Card has been handled very briefly. Has some extremely faint scratches, but is similar to Mint condition. Very Good (VG): A few scratches, but generally looks good and is quite acceptable. Good (G): Condition worse than Very Good, but still not too bad. Usually has dirt and creases, perhaps the first signs of black spots. OK: The card has been played slightly, will have some creases, black spots and edge wear. Played (P): The card has been fairly played and looks it. Many creases and scratches and lots of black spots. Heavily Played (HP): This card’s condition is poor. Will have large creases, dirt, discoloration and scratches (and worse!).
Notes:
Cards with a (1st) next to their condition are 1st Edition.
Double conditions, ex. G-VG, may be deemed either, depending on the collector’s condition requirements.
There has been relatively little talk about the BP oil spill. For such a big disaster, I’m surprised there haven’t been many people calling BP out on the matter. Especially here in Greece, the matter seems to be getting little attention. Hopelessly little when it’s the largest natural disaster to hit the US we’re talking about. One could say that Greece has its own problems at this time, but even like that, people just don’t seem to care unless it’s their home.
So, what if it was YOUR home?
This is what the people behind www.ifitwasmyhome.com must have thought… It’s a site trying to raise awareness about the BP oil spill. It has live streaming video of the spill (yes there’s a camera thousands of meters below the surface) but most importantly, they have a Google Map with a representation of the oil spill layered on it, at the location of the actual spill. This is a great way to comprehend the extent of the damage done, but for anyone who’s not from New Orleans or the southern coast of the US it means little. What’s best about the site is that you can move this layered spill anywhere you want in the world and see what it would look like over your home. I put in my post code in Nea Smyrni and this is what came up.
I am lost for words… There’s nothing that has not been said anymore. Things will only change if people unplug their ears and, most importantly, their minds…
