The people line up and salute the flag and listen to the national anthem, ‘doesn’t it give you chills’ says the man next to me.
The flag representing the people nearest to us, the anthem sung for solidarity and pride. We identify with those closest. They went to the same school, they largely look like us, have similar facial features, watched Thunder Cats on Saturday morning and went to the same shops, walked the same streets, ate the same food, we are comfortable with the similarity.
Those over there, they did not watch what we watched, did not eat the same food, did not listen to the same music, they have slightly different facial architecture, different hair, it grows in different ways and colour, their weather changed their bodies over hundreds of years, they speak a different tongue. They are not us, we do not identify with them.
But I saw them cry when their loved one died, they hug their mothers, I saw them enjoying the fruits of the earth, raising and encouraging their children, just like us, I watched every nation enjoying sport. They are us.
So sorry no, I don’t enjoy the flags or the anthems, everything that encourages us against them, I’d bury the flags, and silence the anthems.


My one vice

How do folks drive at the speed limit on motorways?, sure in the city there is danger at every turn, and country lanes have blind bends that you must watch out for. But the motorways are huge expanses of wide concrete, gentle curves and no junction, yet they ask us to drive no more than seventy miles per hour, a ridiculous pedestrian speed, a speed to send people to sleep, and that is the last thing you need while driving, one moment awake, next moment asleep permanently. The cure for this boredom induced sleep is speed, and lots of it, see how fast your car will go, no matter what car, fearsomely fast Ferrari or sedate Citroen, they will enjoy the challenge set for them, a break from their usual meandering pace, a chance for them to clear the arteries of sludge and fill the lungs. An Italian tune up they used to call it. When some poor car driven by a little old lady who cannot see as far as the end of her bonnet clogs up their cars engine from lack of use, the mechanic would head out and give it the thrashing of its life, and enjoy it too. Comes back purring like a kitten.
So let your car run free, it is a wonderful feeling to be going as fast as the car can manage, smashing wind aside, thundering along the road screaming and bawling. making the dawdling cars shudder from side to side as you barrel past. It’s a little piece of rebellion and freedom.



If your teapot dribbles,
you need to be more
committed in your tip,
confidently pour it
and you will not
spill one drip.



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