we're [potentially] screwed

some think it ridiculous to live half a world away and be so invested in the outcome of an election in which we have no say. but one cannot ignore the fact that whatever happens in november will have a massive impact on the rest of us. and i live in fear of what may happen if Barack Obama does not become the next President.

last year, the Bush administration came up with the brilliant idea to launch Africom, about which i have already expressed trepidation, albeit in a rather perfunctory manner. the establishment of this military command was decided upon despite Africa's general outright resistance to the notion of consolidating American military presence on our territory--whatever 'good intentions' said command may claim to have. essentially, this is the image that comes to mind when i think of the recently fully operationalized Africom, which apparently "represents part of a new US strategy to engage with Africa":



i simply cannot help but conjure up images of the scramble for a continent, especially as part of America's strategy is to ward off Chinese influence in Africa.

the role played by and the impact of Africom will very much depend on the US administration and it's approach to foreign policy. and, um...if this [below] is an indication of what may be in store for us...we're screwed:



*blinks rapidly*
i'm just saying.
the next four years cannot be dominated by this kind of jackassery.

we're [potentially] screwed

open letter

my first blog entry! yay! well, yay for me. it's taken me a while to get this started. anyway, the first entry ain't deep...it stems from a recurring incident that has been getting on my last nerve since my Big Move to Cape Town (note to self: think of new title for "Big Move"):


Dear wanker bastards who park outside my window for no gotdamn reason,

I get it. I understand that perhaps you've had a long day and you've been working like crazy and since today was a public holiday and all, you feel the need to get yo' drink on. hell, you feel the need to get yo' drink on and listen to some good music and perhaps if you ingest enough beer,you just might get yo' dance on. But tomorrow? I have to go to class, I got stuff to do, I got cases to get through, I generally have to be brilliant. And I don't know how I'ma do any of that if you keep parking outside my window and playing your stupidly loud "music" until my windows are shaking. Why don't you go to your room? A bar? The club? Outside someone else's window? I'm sitting here trying to focus all my energies on not opening this door, going out there and smacking each one of you upside the head. Or is there just one of you? I can't see to well as I peer through the window making frustrated exaggerated gestures in the hopes thatsince you're only 2 meters awayyou'll see me and get the hint and lower the volume ever so slightly. But you ain't tryin to hear any of that. You're just determined to ruin my night. I suppose I deserve this. I mean, I'm the one who read the brochure and thought that a cottage-style post-grad residence filled with brilliant, mature students would be the suitable environment in which to live. I even chose one far away from the madness of campus...but I suppose I didn't consider the fact that even brilliant, mature students like to get piss drunk and play the same really, painfully bad music at maximum volumage (sic) EVERY NIGHT. I have tried to be patient. I have tried to smile pretty and ask you nicely to consider those of us whose work doesn't stop at 5pm and who have to grapple with reading 300 pages of material a night. But you haven't listened. In fact, by deciding to park your car directly outside my window, you're mocking me. You're mocking me andin factcalling me on. It's a'ite. I mean, I'll bring it if you need it to be brung. In fact, I'm fittin to do that very thing right now. I just had to write this to you first, because I have a feeling once I get out there, I'll be rather incoherent and you won't be able to hear me from the noise of the whole world of hurt I'ma put on your asses.

Love,

me.

open letter