The Knife of Shaun Brian

On Verbal Aikido/Hari Kiri..

Thursday, March 10, 2005

I love debate. I will play devil's advocate just for the hell of it. I will test my own core values, on a regular basis, through structured argument. The Wonderful, Weird, Web is full of people who want to 'engage in meaningful debate' and recently I have found some really interesting sites that contain diverse points of view and arguments. I have chosen to participate in some of these discussions, which is unusual for me, because the sites have been intelligent and the arguments stimulating.

Then along came Jarrett. The course of events leading up to this can be followed on the site of theworldaccordingtonome.

Now, if you are going to comment, beware. I believe in verbal Aikido, because Aikido is a martial art that 'focuses not on punching or kicking opponents, but rather on using their own energy to gain control of them or to throw them away from you.' So I use your words and argument as a form of redirection. The harder you hit me, the harder it comes back. Hari Kiri is the art of falling on your own sword, (even if it is blunt!) so if you carry a weapon, make sure you know which way it is pointing!

I will therefore go through Jarred's comment point by point, and let's see what happens. Sorry Jarred this is nothing personal, but you were warned:

'Darn it, number 9, you totally took away my favourite saying, and stole part of the mighty thunder I planned upon unleashing via my own blog! '

Are you referring to the Armageddon comment and is that sarcasm or what? Be specific. What are you saying? So somebody stole your thunder?

'that's okay, though. Any decent student of history would realize that big words does not an argument make.'

What big words, where? Words in the right order, that are relevant, make an argument. Note the relevant part. Obviously you are not an English major (see later point) as it is 'do', not 'does'.

' Not only that, but foreign analogies (IE referring to Asian history, a topic foreign to most) only work when they're comparable analogies, which those of Nome are not. '

Asia has the worlds largest population by far, over half of it in FACT. (3,3100 million people). Therefore Asian history is not a foreign topic to most. Most of the world has a vested interest in the history of at least their small piece of Asia. The history of any country apart from your land of birth is a 'foreign' topic. Perhaps Asian history is a topic about which your immediate circle knows little, but I thought you were classing yourself as 'decent student of history', and thus you should know something about Asian history. And by the way Iraq is in Asia, so it is relevant.

The analogies are not relevant because...?

To quote Monty Python, (which does seem relevant here):
'Customer:
Yes, but an argument isn't just contradiction!
Argumentator:
Well, can be.
Customer:
No, an argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition.
Argumentator:
No, it isn't!
Customer:
Yes, it is! It isn't just contradiction! '

At this stage we still have no argument, only....I reserve judgment.

'My favourite part of her argument, though, is the troll tactics... "I don't care," or "this isn't a place to debate politics" or whatever are quite common, but then she starts spewing out her own rhetoric (perhaps to impress herself) while taking a moral high ground. A supposed shroud of moral superiority emerges, constructed on the basis of faulty reasoning.'

My only comment on this is 'You too can make meaningless diatribes like this by visiting "www.cutandpastepoliticalspeeches.crap"* '

'But hey, we can't point out that she's wrong.'

Is that because she is right, or because you don't have the faculties?

'After all, open discoure is only at her own behest! '

Jarrett, way too much time in the classics, boy, 'behest!' I ask you with tears in my eyes. Oscar Wilde thought that 'behest' was 'behest' left in 1642.

'Typical English major: "Okay, I don't care... you know more than me, you can out-reason me, you seem to have all the facts, but I don't care. That, and I have a life, so I would be right and would prove you right if I were as boring as you, and if I had spent as much time as you did researching. But I have a life. Doesn't matter, because even so, I'm still convinced I'm right." '

As a last resort, or retort, lets just box the individual. When last did you hear this from an English major? Maybe an English minor, or an English miner, but not from an English Major (Is he a soldier in Iraq as well?).! If anyone has ever said this to you, a little pointer, it was said with a large dose of sarcasm and irony.

I can also see how much research you have done, was that at the school of www.learntosayfuckallinathousandormorewords.stpd?*

Jarrett, if you want to participate, participate. Use the research you have done, and quote it.

I do not mean this personally, but remember I use Aikido, the harder you hit, the harder you fall...on your own sword. Get the point?

To see some sensible debate about an alternative point of view to mine visit Brad.

P.S. The two sites marked* are not real, unfortunately, but I think I will actually create them!

On Bush, War, Fair logic, and Christians...

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

This was inspired by the site of Brad, which I discovered through theworldaccordingtonome The comments on these sites are more serious than the following piece.

America, George W. Bush, The War on Terror. Even at the furthest tip of Africa we feel the effect of, take your pick, American Imperialism/American Aid/American Values/American Consumerism/ American Comedy. With the growing realisation and evidence of American Pie-fingering, and the collapse of Communism as we feared it, the difference between the 'good guy ' and the 'bad guys' is becoming less clear.

The easiest target for ridicule is George W. Bush. Let's face it, he's no Mark Shuttleworth (Rocket Scientist, in South African!). He has mounted his own 'War of Terror' on the English language, and his folksy attitude makes us all feel safe at night, because maybe there is not too much pontificationating going on at the White House. Is that Langley in the shadows of the Oval Office I see?

So is Bush all bad? Is he the lesser of two evils, I have no real informed clue, but here are some thoughts:

In most Political races, as in America, there is usually a choice between 'Bad' and 'Worse'. There is a very simple reason for this: To want to create a career in politics, and then to succeed to that degree, you need to have a certain personality. The defining characteristics would tend to be arrogance, a monstrous ego, a blinkered moral view and drive, a skin as thick as the Great Wall of China, and the ability to kiss the butts of the right people, who are usually self serving fools. This is an odd dichotomy of Master and Servant. One could say a dysfunctional personality would be a huge advantage. This would be especially true in the States where the President is under-paid compared to the men seeking favour and to influence policy, i.e. Big Business Leaders.

With this as a starting point for the majority of elected leaders, (Not all, I have met, and read of, some exceptions, like our Favourite Son) it is no doubt that we are constantly choosing the lesser of two evils.

So let us assume that G W is the lesser (d)evil. What type of president is he? I think that it is safe to say that as a business man, Governor and President he is a deligater. (In his case this may be an absolute God send!)

We can argue this point at some other time, I will haul out my references at some stage and write a piece on this.

So where does this leave the free world, who is at the helm? When comes to the internal politics of the USA, I have no clue who he sends the job cards to, and frankly, even less interest. All I can say is they are doing fairly well compared to the rest of the world. When it comes to Foreign Policy, I have my suspicions. There is a strange consistency in the scope of American influence in world history.

Quick, a Pop Quiz!

What is the one clear link between:

Democratic Republic of Congo (formally Zaire), Panama, Iran, Iraq, Columbia, Angola, etc etc?

What links Saddam, Osama and Manuel?

Yes, there is a clear link - CIA sponsorship and sanction at some time in history. The lesser of many evils in each respect? Someone thought so, or they had great prescience in creating a future for themselves.

Once again, I will supply references, but from my personal point of view, I have met the bastards in far to many places for it to be a co-incidence.

So, if there is a foreign policy that is hammered out by the CIA, who is the CIA? Remember that class bully that was sexually dysfunctional and had a really sadistic streak? Remember the nerd with no sense of the real world, but enough theory to solve the world's problems, but only in theory?

Well that's them. Only this time they have guns, money and an evil master plan. Oh yes, and the most subversive of secret weapons, Fox Network.

This sly Fox ran a very powerful network, and he and his friends convinced over 60% the American population that one or all of the fundamental pieces of mis-information used to promote the war, were true.

Source:
Study: Wrong impressions helped support Iraq war

There are many other sources to this, to go back to first principles is too time consuming for this arena. I will for money, though.

So now we have the CIA all over the place. They even cropped up at Wouter Basson's trial, in sunny South Africa!

CIA, anthrax, Wouter

But, where are their offices, you may argue. Well, they are there, but you cant just go around sticking up CIA offices, so they use front companies and American Aid Groups, such as Christians in Action. (CIA, get it) I have bumped into the characters in many distant and diverse places, and believe you me, they wern'tt site seeing! The conversion ratio was high though.

So now we know, it is the 'Christians in Action' who link all these countries and people, and they dictate foreign policy.

So, if you are a small third world country, a terrorist harbouring nation, a follower of Islam, be very careful of the Christians.

And don't forget, G W Bush is a Christian, so be careful of Bush.

And so maybe, since he's a Christian, and Christian's front the CIA, maybe, just maybe, G W is not so stupid, and is in charge after all. Beware, G W might just be the man with the (evil) plan!

0n…..Violence, cowardice and being sensible.

Friday, March 04, 2005

"There are more pleasant things to do than beat up people."
Muhammad Ali

Shaun Brian's corollary:

"There are more pleasant things to do than be beaten up by people."

Let's get one thing straight, according to some, I am a bit of a coward, in my terms a pacifist. I do not feel the need to prove my point at the risk of a broken nose. I do not feel the need to escalate a situation of potential (or actual) violence to prove my point, or to prove that I am a man. I avoid physical confrontation at all cost. Often this is not too much of a problem for me, being 6 foot three and weighing 100kg. I use my reluctance for conflict as a tool, I appear confident, therefore the opposition doesn't really want to find out whether I am a black belt or a sheep in wolf's clothing. (The name of Shaun should give them a hint).

I have a background that involves a stint as an officer in the infantry and as being the head of a security company that provided training for close protection officers, better known as bodyguards. These points on my CV seem to indicate that I would welcome a good fight. I don't. At this stage of my life, I believe that I have better things to do. Due to my training, as well as due to my ability to judge character at 100yards, I always enter a room/venue/club and try and spot the troublemakers. You know the one's I mean, the short guy who has a point to prove, the guy shouting about his last fight, the guy with a gun at his ankle, the guy wearing the karate suite. Once I have done this, I avoid them. I make no conversation with them and if they jostle me, bump me, spill drinks on me or insult my friends, I do not comment or retaliate in any way. I simply try and lose myself in the background and appear as if I am not worth confronting.

As an extra defence, I always make a point of befriending the bouncers at the clubs I go to - I am not gushing, just friendly and I never expect a free entry. Most of them warm to me, and if some tosser gets out of hand, I simply defer to them - after all, they are paid to fight. I have angered one or two potential heavy-weight contenders by inviting them to take the fight outside, walking out with them and promptly turning and heading straight back in. While the bouncers refuse them re-entry. This usually costs about 200 bucks and staying at the club until my foe passes out, leaves out of boredom, or finds an alternative contender, add another 200 to my bar bill.

Sometimes though, things can go wrong. The most common cause of this is an ignorant friend (I am avoiding saying woman with the greatest restraint). I don't know what it is, but some people just gravitate towards the "bad boy" in the room. Often this is fine, but sometimes that bad boy has no brains, no sense of humour and a recently acquired black belt in the most violent of martial arts.

To make things worse, when you tell your friend to avoid this weapon of mass destruction at all costs, they seem to think that it is an invitation to form an alliance with them and to discuss you and your weaknesses at length - I speak from experience.

Once, we came across just such a character: a Neanderthal of little brain-power, and lightning fast hands that made Jacky Chan look like he performs in slow motion. Add to this a venue with no bouncers and the only potential male support a group of gay ex-ballerinas, and you will understand my predicament. Now all of this could have been avoided had my beloved then better-half listened to my early advice of "steer clear", but the darling that she is simply had to initiate a conversation, and involve me in it. I wont go into details, but things got nasty fairly quickly. Fortunately I was not present for the first smack that some 52 kg queen received. I heard all about it though (We had vacated the previous venue and moved on; the only sensible move made all night). While in the middle of describing what they would love to do to the Neanderthal, in he walked, heard the story and administered the second short, sharp smack to another member of our party. (no more rouge needed now!)

At this stage it was time to go, I was certain. But no, by now my dearly beloved had decided that her evening was not going to be ruined by this jerk, and so tried to explain to him how he a had ruined her evening. My heart was now pounding, and not in anticipation, but with unbridled fear. To make it worse, everyone was now looking to me to sort out said Neanderthal. Well, this called for action, and action I took. I called my bouncer friends and asked them to please come and sort the problem out.

They did, thank God. I felt like a coward, but when I think about it now, I know I made the right decision - and here is my point - there is no point in fighting a battle you cannot win, and if you have the right friends, who says you have to fight your own battles.

My survival advice is as follows: don't escalate the problem unless it is life threatening, do not react. Rely on professionals. Lose the first battle to win the war - put pride in your pocket.

But just in case my cell goes on the blink, and I can't call my friends, as of tomorrow, I am back in the Dojo.

Footnote:

The Reluctant Messiah's advice on physical confrontation:

"Talk fast, think faster, run fastest."

On Writing my first Novel...

Sunday, February 13, 2005

"Fiction is not a dream. Nor is it guesswork. It is imagining based on facts, and the facts must be accurate or the work of imagining will not stand up."

-Margaret Culkin Banning

I am planning my first novel and this quote perfectly illustrates the problem I have. Unlike many first time novelists I only have one problem, but right now it seems insurmountable. Because good fiction is based on fact, or if it is truly good fiction, the world believes it to be based on fact, readers assume that the work is a first hand description by the author of something they have experienced, or would like to experience.

The typical problems a new writer has don't bother me. I know I want to write. My ego is large enough to believe that I have a talent. I have a word processor, spell check and I've read all the "how to" books ever published. I have the time. I have the lonely evenings. I have a publisher who has expressed interest. I even have four novels lurking in my head, and all I need to do is commit these to paper.

My problem is, if I write about any subject, fiction or non-fiction, at my very first interview I will be asked, "How much of the story is factual, how much is true to you?" Like John Irving, I will answer "All, and nothing". Because my ego does not allow me to think anything apart from the fact that my book will be a resounding success, I know that it will be published world-wide and stocked in every good bookstore; so it is inevitable that my family will read it.

So here's the problem: I have certain members of my family - like my mother - who would not look out of place in a fanatical religious cult. They are of the type who believe that by reading Harry Potter my kids will become the spawn of Satan. (They will actually become the spawn of mediocrity). They believe that swearing is a mortal sin, punishable by flogging (which they believe is OK). Unless I write a saccharine sweet novel that is full of happy families, and contains no tortured relationships, no drugs, no magicians, no crime and certainly no sex, I am stuffed. Seriously stuffed. I will receive a phone call for every evil reference in my disgusting novel. I will have ministers, councilors and exorcists calling at my mother's plea. Social services will be approached to take my children away. The publishing house will be picketed and my mother would ask total strangers what she had done to deserve this. And this is only my mother, who is the sane one.

You may laugh, but my life would become hell. The books in my head are very troublesome in this regard - one is about a sexual deviant who sells out his friends, the next is about a cop who discovers he's, well, different, and the third is about a writer with a bad childhood and cold distant parents.

The answer is, of course, to have a pseudonym, but this will never work, because they need my photo for the book jacket - I would never allow an impostor to lay claim to my novel (ego again). I want to become a writer to gain the credibility I have never had, and to appear intellectually superior. Difficult if you hide behind a false name. Then there are the TV appearances, interviews, cameo film roles, premiers of the film version, and everything else a top author must endure. No, my own name must stay.

The only solution is to delay until the problem members of my family are dead. Then I can write guilt free. So now this is a waiting game.

There is actually one other solution: write the books now. Secure a book deal. Just before the book is released murder my fanatical relatives, and that way I will ensure the success of my books. And I will have the material for my next book. And there will certainly be a film. I will use the tortured childhood of one of my characters as a defence, and be free in six months. I will be notorious - this is actually a darn good idea. I'll start planning now.

How much of this is what I am actually thinking? All of it and none of it - just wait and see.

On Music...

“Music: The only cheap and unpunished rapture upon earth”
Sydney Smith

I love music. I adore music. Live concerts make me cry. I am obsessed, and I can’t understand why others aren’t. I have dedicated “Little Wing” to my youngest daughter, but she has not managed to sit through it once, and turns to me and says “daddy, why are you crying?” I have dedicated “Four Seasons in one day” to my ex girlfriend– I can’t understand why she didn't appreciate this act of love. Same for “Who’s gonna ride your wild horses”. At this stage she just got pissed off and went and had a bath. I have often said to friends and family that “Somewhere down the crazy river” by Robbie Robertson is me – they all smile indulgently and agree with the crazy part.

I am, however, very selective as to what music I am so passionate about. You can therefore imagine my frustration at living in a house with a seven year old, a twelve year old and (untill recently) a twenty-one year old. I like The Stones – but not if sung by Britney. On one of her Albums (a word that gives away my age) she wails about getting no satisfaction. Well get laid, girl, don’t ruin my memories. The only positive thing about Britney, Christina and whoever, are the posters my daughters put up. Playboy was less revealing in my day. As for the twenty-one year old boy, he likes Gangsta Rap. I don’t have any understanding of this music, I’ve never been beaten by an LA cop. Certainly there is no melody that I can identify with.

Oh God, have I turned into an aging rocker? Do I look as desperate as those Ozzy fans? I don’t think so; I just appreciate good music. I like Dylan, Van Morison, Queen, Yes, Genesis – oh hell it’s true, I am an aging rocker. But I do appreciate new music. I even have a Robbie Williams CD – and not only the swing tunes. I go to clubs and love the work of Roger Sanchez, Faithless and all those other dance music producers. I just don’t play it in the car.

Talking of the car, thank the Lord for the advances in car hi-fi. I have a retreat in which I can listen to my blues, rock and jazz. As soon as I put a CD on at home anyone would swear I turned into Satan’s choirmaster. The kids complain, the ex goes berserk and they all go to McDonalds for diner – and heaven help me if I haven’t put their CD’s back in the shuttle.

The thing I am hoping for is that the twenty-one year old starts hanging out with art students, because then I know that at least we will move from Gangsta Rap to Rodriguez, Dire Straits and Bob Marley. Actually, the other day I forced him to listen to “A whole Lotta Love” by Led Zeppelin while giving him a lift. Now my Led Zeppelin Two CD is missing – either destroyed or being appreciated in some student commune.

Suddenly it has struck me. I am a musical snob. I am no better than those boring idiots that only listen to “Classics” or the “Operaah”. I have always been one. At school I wrote a record review about an album by Yahzoo – an eighties pop band, - and said if they were still around in ten years I’d eat the album. I saw them last night on VH1 – and actually enjoyed the song, although the indigestion of eating 12 inches of vinyl was hell – hey, I’m a man of my word. It brought back memories. I now realise that a lot of this music is supposed to be temporary. It is only to be enjoyed for the moment, and then years later as a form of nostalgia. One day I will hear a Shakira song and say to my daughter’s boyfriend “ I remember, that was her first CD – do you remember CD’s?”

Deep inside I just wish that I could have written a song that will be played in 20 years time – but then maybe that is what the artists I despise are trying to do – create something meaningful for their generation – a generation I don’t understand.

Well, my daughter is now calling me to watch her sing along to the new Christina song. I will watch it, because anything my daughter sings is perfect in my mind, I will store it in my memory banks for the fond moment in the future, and then write a letter to Britney and, in no uncertain terms, explain exactly how she could get some satisfaction.

On Grannie's Grounding...

This article was previously published on my Life of Shaun Brian site

I decided not to do Grannie's grounding. The main reason is that I honestly don’t think I can spare the energy. That may sound rather weak, but it is not. This is going to be like a David Lynch film – after he raided Hunter S. Thompson’s medicine chest.

There will be my mother, basking in the glow of another crises. She will be supported by social workers, hospital staff and Christians.

There will be the other side of the family, who will serve as a reminder of the mental illnesses I have to look forward to in my later years.

There will be the co-habitants of the aged care facility, who all hated her, and will insist on offering sincere condolences. Half of them are Nazi’s and the other half the mothers of apartheid – I never thought age was an excuse. Each will insist on kissing me with downey-lavender-goo lips trailing breakfast spittle.

There will be the “gentleman friends”, each of whom has invented some aristocratic title, after finding out which buttons turned granny, well, generous. These expectant leeches will be feigning total devastation – try destitution - they got that one right. They will be late for the funeral due to the inconveniences of the once-rich, but they will all be early for the reading of the will!

And then, most frighteningly, there will be the spectre of my stepfather, who had a very, very close relationship with his mother-in-law. While still in the proverbial closet. He will wail like the apron-tied son, and glance over at my 100% biological brother, whom he believes is his son by immaculate conception – because God told him so in a vision.

No, I can’t do it. I cannot cloud the memory by this circus-freak side show. I said good-bye a year ago, when my visits became something of a catalyst for World War 3 among the family. I ensured that my daughter still spent time with her, so that she could have pleasant memories.

I would rather remember the smell of Ginger-beer in wooden crates under the sink, honey-comb pudding for good boys and Saturday morning tea than the stench of greed, malice and discontent.

Thanks for the memories, the history and the touch of genius, or is it madness? Sleep well. I love you.

On Procrastination.

-This article was previously posted on my site "The Life of Shaun Brian"-

When duty calls me, I’m prepared
As though our goals were aimed and shared.
I draw my breath in, shoulders straight,
And quietly procrastinate.

-Alison W. Birch

I have been delaying my attempt to be a writer for 20 years. When I was 16 I wrote a short, angst ridden piece for the school magazine. It was accepted and published and I experienced the thrill of seeing my words, the words I had arranged in that order, in print. I remember the various teachers, parents and pupils who congratulated me on the piece, and suddenly I began to entertain the idea that I could actually become a writer – I had visions of travelling to exotic locations, being able to live anywhere, gaining instant credibility and having my opinions and ideas quoted around diner tables across the globe, while still maintaining a level of anonymity. I clearly remember the evening that I sat down at my desk with a brand new exercise book, and a sharp HB pencil and firmly resolved that I would write at least 2000 words a day – starting tomorrow.

And so it has been for 20 years – well not quite. I actually forgot about my dream of becoming a writer until my matric English teacher told me I had some talent, and so, because I preferred writing to studying, I wrote non-stop for a few months. On reading what I wrote back then, I am convinced that my English teacher was on some serious medication, or she was playing some kind of cruel trick on me. Actually, that could be quite fun for a sadistic teacher – recommend totally unsuitable career paths for your pupils. You see this is the perfect opportunity for procrastination – I could go off and devise some hysterical stand-up routine around this teacher and the poor pupils – “yes Johnny, you are perfect to be a fighter pilot, and I am sure they would have developed a cure for 4 inch lenses by then”. But I won’t. Because I have made a commitment, I will no longer procrastinate.

There are, of course, a million more distractions than in the early days of pencil and paper – the only in-built distraction was the art of the doodle, but the PC has a never-ending array of procrastination possibilities. But I am resolute. Never again will I sit in front of my PC and say “I will now get on with my writing/taxes/finances/e-mails etc, as soon as I have set a new world record in solitaire”. It is sad, but I have actually created entire fantasies around the game of PC solitaire. I am convinced that I am the world champion, playing for a million dollars, if only I can score above 6500 points. Suddenly four hours are gone and it’s time for dinner, and that’s not procrastination, because I have to eat.

So, after dinner I attempt again to become the Kasparov of PC solitaire and eventually collapse into bed, tired, frustrated and unfulfilled. But tomorrow will be different – I will get up early and write 200 words before the sparrows fart. The reality is that at 10am I sit in front of the PC and decide that my office is a mess and I need to sort out my files – for the 10th time this month. Just as soon as I have scored a 5000 pointer.

At last here I am – actually writing, so maybe something has clicked, and perhaps I can start to work on this writing thing, and perhaps I can start doing some of the things that I really want to. While looking for the quote at the beginning of this page I found this one:

While you are postponing, life speeds by. – Seneca

And I thought that this was true and depressing – an apt description of my life – too little, too late. By the way, who is Seneca, or Alison W. Birch for that matter? I must look that up. As soon as I have scored 5000 points and won the world championship.

On Resolutions....

Thursday, January 27, 2005

-This article was previously posted on my site "The Life of Shaun Brian"-

“Most good resolutions start too late and end too soon.”

Andrew Glasow

It is January. Again it is time to make my resolutions for the New Year. I have done this every year for the past 15 years. The problem is I can’t remember one of the bloody things I’ve promised to improve, change, stop doing, start doing, which I have actually done. No, that’s a lie. Ten years ago I resolved to visit one new destination every year for the rest of my life. I did London, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Perth, Brazzaville, Israel, a small town in Germany, Amsterdam, Brisbane, Kinshasa, Mauritius and Rustenberg in the first nine. This year I managed none – unless you call the public toilet on Greenmarket Square a new destination – hey, I was desperate, not lonely.

So now that I realise that I have broken the one resolution I have managed to keep for any length of time, what about this years resolutions? If I am to believe the multitude of self-help gurus from the world of positive thinking, my resolutions must be clear, easily understood and measurable; if I believe the more esoteric of these gurus I must concentrate on larger, more spiritual issues, such as world peace and loving my fellow earth beings. If I mix the two I end up with something like:
“This year I resolve to channel 17,25% of my positive energy into attaining world peace in 76 of the worlds nations while spending 2 hours each day meditating on the 35 minutes of negative energy I distribute to my co-workers each day, thereby making the work place 7,25% more bearable for 12% of the company” – It would never work- my maths is crap.

I could go for the “soft issues approach” and adopt a daily resolution that I carve into my bedside table and read every morning, hoping that it improves my life in general. This one, penned by John Vincent, was suggested to me:

“ I will this day try to live a simple, sincere, and serene life; repelling every thought of discontent, anxiety, discouragement, impurity and self seeking; cultivating cheerfulness, magnanimity, charity, and the habit of holy silence; exercising the economy in expenditure, carefulness and conversation, diligence in appointed service, fidelity to every trust, and a childlike trust in God”
I would, of course, also need to keep a bucket close at hand for the involuntary retching that will accompany me saying these words. If you want it, use it. Just stay the hell away from me during your “serene life”, because someone like me could really bugger that up for you.

I need a resolution that is simple, that I will not forget, that will make me, my family and friends happier people (if I have the resolve to keep it), and one that is measurable, and easily transferable to the next year if I fail to obtain it. I have one: “ Make a Million Rand”. If I achieve it, I will no doubt distribute some of this new wealth to the less fortunate amongst us, my family will be happy, my creditors will be very happy (and believe that there is a God), I will be a lot less stressed and life would be a lot more bearable. I can also then make my next resolution: “Make another Million” and so on, for the rest of my life.

Alternatively, if I don’t make it, I can always use it for the next year, or if I am truly resolved, I can rob a bank. Then I can continue to see new places – like the inside of a Prison.

The Knife of Shaun Brian

On Verbal Aikido/Hari Kiri..

On Bush, War, Fair logic, and Christians...

0n…..Violence, cowardice and being sensible.

On Writing my first Novel...

On Music...

On Grannie's Grounding...

On Procrastination.

On Resolutions....

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