When you’re famous everybody wants a piece of you. Italy Part 3

So the other day we went to this picturesque little Tuscan town called Siena that was very old. How old? Well to give you an idea, much of the town pre dated the Rolling Stones. A funny little Italian girl in 3-foot cork soled shoes took us on a 3-hour walking tour of Siena. We lasted an hour before my wife got distracted by shoe shops and I got distracted by beer. The tour started in a big church and because it was the start I was still paying attention. The lady balanced on cork told us about a young Italian woman called Saint Catherin who came from the town back in the 12 or 1300’s. She was a saint because she was mates with the Pope and didn’t used to eat much and rather than sleep she used to whip herself to make up for the sins of the common folk. Anyway she died in Rome but the townsfolk of Siena wanted her remains in their church so the head honchos in Rome sent them her thumb and her head and you can see them on display in the church. The head is in a little box covered in wax and the dried out thumb is on a little silver stick.
The lady didn’t know why there was a thumb and a head I suspect when the people of Siena asked for Catherin’s remains, the priests in Rome sent them a thumb. But the town got really pissed off and complained that you cant build a decent shrine with a fricken thumb and they demanded more. So a few days later a courier delivered a box with Catherin’s head in it.
After the church we walked down a street to see another church. It was next to a
Mc Donald’s. I explained to Dick and Sue the middle aged American tourists, that inside that particular McDonalds there was a glass cabinet with the desiccated thumb of the original Saint Ronald. They didn’t see the humor.

Hairs a thought

How come when a teenager chick dyes her her hair purple or blue she is crazy, going off the rails and rebelling against society but when a lady over 75 does it she is just Grandma Betty

ITaly. IT rocks.

I don’t know why so many Italians migrated to America. Lucky for us they did, otherwise we wouldn’t have had The God Father Part 1& 2 (not so much 3) or the Sopranos. But why you would leave Italy is beyond me. This country is so fricken cool. You go into a shop to buy your daughter an ice cream and there is a fridge full of beer. How civilized it that. And these little ice-cream/beer/coffee selling shops are everywhere. Did you know being an old man sitting outside a cafÈ drinking coffee and reading a paper is an actual job in this country. You have to train for it your whole life by sitting outside a cafÈ reading the paper and drinking coffee and when you are old enough they pay you to do it. By law a cafÈ has to employ at least one old man to sit outside their cafÈ. Some hire two or three so they can talk to each other. I want that job.
The Italians like to put their villages on top of hills. A lot like the Maori in New Zealand who used to put their Pa on top of hills. And for the same reason. In the old days towns and villages used to regularly try to kick the shit out of each other. If you lived on a hill you could see the baddies coming. Today it serves another purpose. It means the countryside is dotted with hill tops covered with picture perfect Italian towns. Very fricken pretty. As I thought about the Maori and their pa I reflected on the fact that in the 1940’s Maori warriors came over here and kicked the shit out if baddies. I bet they felt right at home here. I love Italy I might never leave except I am spending al my money on ice-cream, coffee and beer and it will run out in 5 days. Maybe Italy isn’t so cool when you don’t have money. Maybe that’s when you start thinking about moving to America and getting into organised crime. I really like Italy. If I had to do an advertising campaign for it I would make the tag line - ITaly, the IT country. Because it rocks.

The cardboard boxes box.

In life they competed against each other to fulfill our storage requirements. But once they had served their wide variety of purposes, they were condemned to the great recycling factory in the sky. Their dreams might have been squashed flat, but in one last spirited act of camaraderie they came together to form a symbolic reminder of the crucial role their kind play in our lives.

Me & George Bush in Rome

Arrived in Rome and noticed large numbers of police on the streets. Even the cops dress stylishly in Italy. Lots of them had these little purple cravat things round their necks so they kind of looked like security guards at the Playboy mansion. I thought maybe the heavy uniformed presence was a regular thing like Cairo, but no. Turns out George W Bush had chosen to celebrate the end of the G8 with a visit Rome the same day I did. I wondered if all the police on the streets meant the Italians wanted to arrest Bush to question him for his war crimes in Iraq or abuse of human rights in Qantanamo bay. But it turns out they were there to ensure he got through town quickly and efficiently. The Romans brought road to the world but you know how hairdressers often have bad haircuts and mechanics cars are always in need of repair. Well Rome’s roads are a shocker. I could see why the most powerful man in the world (after the inventor of the pushup bra) would need help getting out. After waiting 45 minutes while plain clothed cops on scooters raced up and down the road beeping their horns and me explaining to my daughter that we couldn’t cross the road because the leader of the free world was on the way, the Bush traveling circus raced up the street. 6 motorbikes, 4 or 5 local cop cars then three big fuck off black America limos with blacked out windows. The front one had its windows down and sitting there with the butt of his machine gun sticking up was a grumpy looking secret service agent. I suspect he had probably just paid the entrance fee to visit the Coliseum. That was followed by half a dozen more Italian cops cars, a couple of motorbikes and what looked appeared to be 4 Japanese tourists in a little blue Fiat who had taken a wrong turn. Although they could have been part of the Secret Service’s last line of defense ninja squad, because none of them were taking photos. Everywhere George goes he must see hundreds of people lined up on the street waiting. I wonder if he thinks they are all there to see him or if someone has told him it is because the cops wont let anyone cross the street. Soon he wont be president anymore. I think it will be very hard to adjust to life as a commoner after 8 years of never having to stop at traffic lights. Maybe they will let him keep the grumpy guy with the machine gun to help adjust to normal life. Actually with all friends he’s made round the world he’ll probably need a dozen guys with machine guns around him permanently. Sucked in.

Wearing out the sandals on the streets of Rome.

Rome. Famous for it’s sandals and giving the world toga parties. There are a few other things but those are two biggies. So I was buzzed about finally being able to visit the place. First thing you notice is that Italians dress really well. Maybe it’s because they spent all that time wrapped in matching white sheets and now they want to make up for it.
Did you know the Romans also invented the toilet? I thought that was quite ironic because the one in our hotel room didn’t work.

We only had half a day in Rome so we went to the Coliseum. It looks really shitty but it is really old so that makes it ok. Thing is, there must have been a long period of time where the Coliseum was just shitty but not actually really old. During that time it could have been pulled down and replaced by something new but no one got around to it and then after a long time of no one doing anything, they suddenly realised that it was now really old and the whole shitty thing kind of worked in its favour. So the coliseum is really a great example to local body politicians round the world that sometimes just simply doing nothing can be good for you town.

Around the Coliseum there were men dressed like Roman soldiers that you could have you photo taken with. My daughter wouldn’t go near them till I explained to her that they were kind of like Santa in a short dress with a sword. After that she was all over them.
Skipped the Vatican but saw little pictures of the Pope for sale in souvenir shops everywhere we went. I thought a good Catholic Church souvenir would be a little jumping penis wearing a priest’s collar. I asked the lady in one of the souvenir shops if they sold anything like that but she was Korean and didn’t understand me.
Rome is a very civilized city. You go into a shop to buy your daughter an ice cream and there is a fridge full of beer. No wonder so many countries round the world submitted to Roman rule. Speaking of Roaming I’m off to Tuscany now for a 4 day tour of the locations used in that crappy Russell Crowe film where he made wine.

Tomorrow’s pirates

Back in the day pirates struck fear into the hearts of sea travelers across the globe. Black Beard, Long John Silver. These were scary men. But they must be turning in their unmarked deserted island graves now when they see what has become of their bloodthirsty terrifying tradition. I wonder how Black Bart would have reacted if someone had told him that by the 20th century dressing as pirates would be a favourite for 4 year old boys celebrating their birthdays. Rather than the wind blowing across the deck of the cake it is the blowing out of candles that happens now. Yo ho ho and another plastic cup of lemonade for little jimmy then out to the sandpit to dig for buried treasure.

300 hundred years ago it would have probably been considered in bad for a kid to have a pirate party. I wonder how little Johnny will celebrate turning 5 300 years from now? Nautical themes will always be popular, so maybe Japanese whaler birthday parties will be the big thing. Dad could turn the garage into the deck of a Japanese whaler and pour fake blood all over the floor and after a glass of non alcoholic sake the kids could play pin the harpoon on the humpback.

Lindsay Lohan Rehab Part 2

Lindsay Lohan is back in rehab so now I know of more rehab centers she has been in than movies. That is kind of sad. Not just for Lindsay but for me too because it shows I have an addiction to crap tabloids and gossip rags.

Bombing Iran. Be part of the action and buy the soundtrack.

Cost money to bomb the hell out of foreign countries and the Pentagon in an effort to soften the blow on the American tax payer without compromising the blow to the Iranians has formed a record company and they plan to release a soundtrack album to their upcoming attack.
The theme song will be a rerecording of the 80’s hit by the Flock of Seagulls ‘I ran’. Other tracks on the album may include Saturday Nights Alright for fighting but this depends on the bombing happening on a Saturday. If it happens at the start of the week it will be ‘Tell me why I don’t like Mondays’ but recorded by a popular Iranian singer.

The soundtrack to the war is just the start of a plethora of self-funding plans that are being implemented to make ‘War pay its way’. An exciting use of technology is the plan to install web cams on the cruise missiles to allow viewers to experience a first hand look at the leveling of Iran’s nuclear sites. ‘Go in with the first wave’ is the slogan for the cruise cams. The beauty of these little babies is they are programmed to detach moments before the missile hits. The camera then parachutes down to earth and becomes a bomblet, which will explode when the emergency services turn up to look for the charred bodies of Russian nuclear technicians in the ruins. Cruise cam subscribers will have to pay more to stay logged on for the second phase of the operation.

Another exciting project being considered is sending in CIA spy drones to scrape up radioactive debris from around the bombsites and sell it off in special radioactive proof glass boxes on EBay. Be the first guy in your office to have a piece of Iran’s nuclear program on your desk. Cruise missiles make a big hole in the ground but they don’t need to make a big hole in the American taxpayers pocket thanks to the bean counters at the Pentagon.

Baking a better world.

The French have one and the Lebanese, despite all their problems have one to.
Bread, every country has it so it must be a great source of pride to a nation to have a type of bread named after them. Kind of like the way a town feels when they get their first university. But there are a lot less breads named after countries than there are universities.
Good on you France I’m glad my great granddad and his mates and my granddad and his mates were able to help you out twice last Century. And thank you Lebanon. It wasn’t enough for you to send out thousands of your most highly trained kebab makers to feed the late night drunks of the world. You also gave us your bread. It might not be much in the way of thanks but I have written a letter to the United Nations suggesting that France and Lebanon get a 5% discount at the UN cafeteria.

Gaza Strip business opportunity

As I fancy myself as a bit of an entrepreneur I am always on the look out for new ways to get filthy rich and watching young Palestinians throwing rocks at Israeli soldiers on TV for the millionth time the other night gave me an idea. Business is all about supply and demand and it seems to me that in the Gaza strip it must be getting really hard to find hand sized rocks because they have all been thrown at the Israeli soldiers by Palestinian youths. But just across the border the Israelis have the opposite problem. So here is my cunning plan. I am going to go to the Israeli Army and offer to clear up all the rocks that are littering their positions and generally making things look messy and then I am going to truck them over to Gaza and sell them back to the Palestinians who will pay good money for throw able rocks. I know what you’re thinking they are used rocks the Palestinians would pay more for new rocks. But I will market them as ‘Pre tested’ thus being able to charge a premium for them. Maybe I will put little pictures on them and make them collectable thus increasing there value even more. The Israeli army could set up a scheme where if a soldier gets hit with the same rock more than once he wins a prize like a drink holder for his jeep or a little glow in the dark star of David. Take a fresh look at the conflicts happening around the world folks. There are plenty to choose from and if you don’t make money out of them, an oil company or an arms dealer will. So get in there.

Religon and booze. And why they wont serve chicken in church.

Where can a sober well dressed man or woman get a drink at 9am on a Sunday morning with other respectable people? Church. It’s called communion and it is served with a snack. But there is a catch. The only booze on offer is red wine and you have to pretend it is the blood of Christ. And you have to imagine that the snack. A small wafer of dried bread, is Christ’s flesh. I was thinking about this because I am working on a book at the moment. The working title is ‘Christianity. The bollocks behind what probably started off as one guy with some not entierly original, but decent and simple ideas about how we can all get along better if we are nice to each other that got twisted and distorted by power and money hungry bastards who took advantage of the fact that man is basically a gullible creature who can easily be controlled by fear…… Yes I realise the title is a tad long. That was kindly pointed out by my publisher. I did it on purpose. That way when I change it they will feel like they had some input.

Anyway. Back to Communion. My parents dragged me along to church on a semi irregular basis as a kid and my early understanding of communion was that it was like halftime at the movies. A chance to have a quick drink and a snack during what seemed to be a very tedious and drawn out process. Kids I noticed were never given a drink or the chips just a hand on the head. When I asked dad why I didn’t get a sip of what I thought was cordial, he explained it was red wine. Even back then I remember thinking it seemed a little early to be hitting the hard stuff. So I wasn’t allowed the wine. What about the chip? Dad explained the chip, which was actually a wafer of bread and was impossible to swallow without the wine to help wash it down. It was only later I discovered the ghoulish back story behind the wine and bread. The wine I get. It’s red. And like xmas morning it is a legitimate excuse to drink booze in the morning. I get it. But the bread thing has always confused me. The bread represents the flesh of Christ but is that really the best they could do? Why not chicken? Isn’t that what human flesh is supposed to taste like? OK so maybe chicken isn’t a breakfast meat. Fish then. Jesus could make that appear at will so it would tie in nicely. And you could serve it cold. Churches could buy it from local Japanese restaurants. They could make it on a Saturday night and leave it for the church people to pick up on a Sunday morning. There would be a problem if there was any left over. Fish wouldn’t store as well as dried bread wafers. But I used to watch with amusement how at the end of communion the priest would finish up the last of the wine in the expensive goblet himself. I noticed he never bothered to gobble up all the left over bread. Funny that. Guess he was more of a blood man than a human flesh man. But perhaps the fish would be more to his liking. He could take the sashimi home each week and have it for Sunday lunch.