Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?
(They do, I told them!)
So yesterday I did it: I gave a homeless bum a tenner so he could check himself into a hostel for the night. The poor sod was sitting outside Pearse-station. An elderly man, bent over his hat, mumbling “Spare change” to everybody who passed him by. I didn’t really want to make a scene, so I just gently threw the two five euro-notes in his hat and walked on. Your man suddenly awoke, stood up, came after me and wished me a Merry Christmas indeed… Some of the commuters even turned their heads, got out of their zombie-state for a split second and saw that there was a flaw in the Matrix.
So you think I must be feeling really good about myself now. Making a difference and all. Well, I was. For about five seconds. Then I realised that I spent about thirty times more on a suit on Sunday and that I’m about to spend ten times the amount I gave the bugger on some lousy meal on New Years Eve. We don’t really know what it is, huh? To be needy.
I saw Bob Sir Geldhof (who got kicked from school -the exclusive Blackrock College- in the street where I live) on Sunday. He was showing the original Band Aid-video to the “next generation” of do-gooders. At the end of the video there was a picture of a typical Ethiopian girl: thick belly, scull-like head, death in her eyes. And then he pulled the rabbit out of the hat: this girl lived and she was there, fully nourished and twenty years older. The Girls squeaked Aloud and all the other artists gaped as if they were seeing a Roswellian creature…
They're just precious aren’t they? Singing half a line (that has to be remixed for two days, because most of them couldn't hold a note if their life depended on it) and not getting ridiculous amounts of money for it. And who’s the clan-leader? Mr. Paul Hewson aka Bono. A regular goody-two-shoes, isn’t he? Saving the world, spreading peace where ever he goes. Fuck off Hewson! Your last tour made you and your drinking buddies 145million $. That money could give Africa bulimia for three generations. Your house in Dalkey costs about 15million € , and I don’t even know where else you got mansions. Nobel Prize for Peace? You must be joking.
If we ever want to heal this world, we’ll need more structural changes then some losers squealing some 25-year old X-massong. Let’s start with killing the George Bush’s, the Ariel Sharons and the Jean-Marie Pfaffs of this world and work from there. To the barricades! Death to the infidels! Let’s start the revolution. But not before January 4th: I’ve got presents to unwrap and geese livers to devour.
(They do, I told them!)
So yesterday I did it: I gave a homeless bum a tenner so he could check himself into a hostel for the night. The poor sod was sitting outside Pearse-station. An elderly man, bent over his hat, mumbling “Spare change” to everybody who passed him by. I didn’t really want to make a scene, so I just gently threw the two five euro-notes in his hat and walked on. Your man suddenly awoke, stood up, came after me and wished me a Merry Christmas indeed… Some of the commuters even turned their heads, got out of their zombie-state for a split second and saw that there was a flaw in the Matrix.
So you think I must be feeling really good about myself now. Making a difference and all. Well, I was. For about five seconds. Then I realised that I spent about thirty times more on a suit on Sunday and that I’m about to spend ten times the amount I gave the bugger on some lousy meal on New Years Eve. We don’t really know what it is, huh? To be needy.
I saw Bob Sir Geldhof (who got kicked from school -the exclusive Blackrock College- in the street where I live) on Sunday. He was showing the original Band Aid-video to the “next generation” of do-gooders. At the end of the video there was a picture of a typical Ethiopian girl: thick belly, scull-like head, death in her eyes. And then he pulled the rabbit out of the hat: this girl lived and she was there, fully nourished and twenty years older. The Girls squeaked Aloud and all the other artists gaped as if they were seeing a Roswellian creature…
They're just precious aren’t they? Singing half a line (that has to be remixed for two days, because most of them couldn't hold a note if their life depended on it) and not getting ridiculous amounts of money for it. And who’s the clan-leader? Mr. Paul Hewson aka Bono. A regular goody-two-shoes, isn’t he? Saving the world, spreading peace where ever he goes. Fuck off Hewson! Your last tour made you and your drinking buddies 145million $. That money could give Africa bulimia for three generations. Your house in Dalkey costs about 15million € , and I don’t even know where else you got mansions. Nobel Prize for Peace? You must be joking.
If we ever want to heal this world, we’ll need more structural changes then some losers squealing some 25-year old X-massong. Let’s start with killing the George Bush’s, the Ariel Sharons and the Jean-Marie Pfaffs of this world and work from there. To the barricades! Death to the infidels! Let’s start the revolution. But not before January 4th: I’ve got presents to unwrap and geese livers to devour.
