On the Relativity of People

So. Let me start by saying, I think people are stupid. You, me, him, her, them, us. Not because the average IQ is low. No, the average IQ, as you very well know, is 100. ... Which is still low, but I digress. No, it's only because people believe just anything other people tell them. So from 1 moron, you get 2 morons, and then 4, and 8, and so on, increasing faster than the number of transistors on a die. And then, alas, morons elect other morons. That's how democracy works. Except the elected moron has more power.

And on with the subject of power. See, democracy is a great system. It allows you to peacefully overthrow your leader(s) every 4 years or so. That's great and all, because people (especially women, I find. I know, I'm totally misogynistic) like change. And 4 years with the same living room arrangement is more than my mother would be able to live with, so same goes with political leaders, but anyway. The point being, democracy and a constitution usually prevents dictatorship. But sometimes it doesn't, because people are morons. Like what have Americans done with Bush? It's okay if you elected him once. Hell, I'll even forgive you for voting for him twice. But please, please, could you guys stop watching MTV and start reading political newspapers!?

I remember, a few years ago, there was a forum where people argued about the Iraqi War. Out of numerous people, not all American, I was the only one that opposed it. Which means I got trashed. And you know what, that's fine. Patriotism is a real force, and a true asset when it's well used. But damn. You have to admit that now, it's pretty obvious the war was completely unjustifiable, from a political, ethical or economical point of view. Well, maybe not from the economical perspective if your family deals in oil or weapons. But whatever.

It's okay to make mistakes. I'll add, too, that it's normal not to care about strangers living half the planet away. It's true, right? What the hell do I care if 42 Iraqis die in a bomb explosion?... I'd rather watch Paris Hilton. Because at least, she's hot. And 42 Iraqis are not even worth one Marine, that's very well known. Now for putting the country into a complete mess, I guess Americans should give away their rights and let their appointed political leader turn the country into a fascist state. Anyway. That wasn't the topic of today's post.

No, the topic I had in mind at first was mostly the thing North America (or probably all of the Western world) has against everyone that dares rival their supremacy. Like China. First of all, one question. How fucking scared are you? Of losing your job, of losing your dominant position, of having hordes of yelling Asian barbarians invading your homeland, pillaging your homes and raping your women? Next. I'll agree with something. China doesn't have a democracy. Yes, it's a dictatorship, but a dictatorship that has many people at its head, called the Party. How is it different from the States?... I'm not quite sure. I am not very politically savvy, I admit.

Heard about the toys recall? How China got bashed over it? I'll be the first to admit, chinese-made items have a tendency to be of lower quality. But they also have a tendency to be cheaper. Last I heard, when you pay for a Lada, you expect a Lada. And yet... It seems there's also a tendency to demonize China, while errors could be somewhere else. No, it's not entirely Mattel's fault, nor Chinese producers. I think it's a shared responsibility, but if it is, why does one party get bashed more than the other? I'll tell you, the toys recalls made the front page of newspapers for more than a day. The apology from Mattel was on page 14 and was 4 lines long. Thank you, fair treatment. And if you complain about local people losing jobs because of China... Sorry. Commercial treaties go both ways, the people you elect sign them. Start being competitive and get off that fat ass of yours.

Or how about Iran. Yea okay, they're going on about getting some "nucular" power. If it helps them provide energy to their people, good for them. Am I against nuclear weaponry? Absolutely. The last thing we need is a second Cold War between the West and the East. But Iran and their nuclear bombs is about as dangerous as Saddam Hussein and his weapons of mass destruction. And even if he gets them... Sorry, but no one apart from Bush would be crazy enough to use them. It's funny because the latest run for armament was initiated by the States, endangered by people using rifles. Putin's mind is already fathoming incredible things due to Bush, missile shield and all. I wish those two would be married, for ever and until Death does them part.

And hell, if Ahmadinejad wants to visit New York and Ground Zero, let him. I'm sure he won't pee on the site. I wouldn't either, because last time I went, there was no public bathroom. Truthfully, him being president and all, he might even have some interesting things to say. He might even pay homage to the victims. But of course, I wouldn't dare say he might be a normal person. If I do, I might be compared to Hitler, you know.

If only Easteners were white and believed in Lord God, things would be so much easier... oh wait. Where would we get the invented enemies from!? We should launch a Holy Crusade to cleanse the planet of the Unbelievers. Freaking people.

Falling leaves

Les feuilles tombent. Tombent sur ces tombes.

Have you ever seen a person die?... I remember, once. I was on my way home, after school. I had to follow the same dull road for about thirty minutes. Not much to see. A few trees leaving town, then a field, and then our little house at the extremity.

I remember the scene. It was a four-way intersection, stop signs for each direction. That little boy was running with his bag on his back. He had a blue jean jacket, white and red sneaker shoes, a red cap on his head.

The car didn't stop.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Then... He flew to the middle of the street. The leaves on the ground were projected upward, yellow, red, bloody. There was blood everywhere. Running on his face and unto the street, scarlet rivulets. I am ashamed to admit, there was a strange beauty in it. It was like a crimson star, starting from a corpse. The fallen leaves completed the picture with their bright colours, contrasting with the deeper red shade.

I don't think the little boy was dead. Weirdly enough, his face was towards me. I could see his eyes, big and unblinking. He was silent, and seemed almost serene, fully aware of his situation. But maybe he was already gone.

All around, though, people came back to life. It was like a still picture suddenly turning into a movie. That, or an exposition of possessed wax statues. A woman accross the street screamed. It was an ear-piercing, despairing and scary shriek. It still rings in my head when I think about it. The man driving the car, a brownish Peugeot 405 I think, came rushing out of it. But he didn't dare approach the boy.

In fact, no one did. People came, looked frantically for a public phone, yelling, shouting, crying. They all looked at the boy, but no one tried to touch him, no one tried to help, no one tried to see if he was still alive.

Soon enough of course, my view of him got blocked. I was still standing in the same place, and sometimes his eyes were visible through the blur of legs. But I didn't want to watch anymore. I didn't want to wait for the police or the ambulance, didn't want to get caught in so much motion. Commotion.

I followed the road, walking a stiff walk, kicking dry leaves with my feet. And they were projected upward, yellow, red. I watched them rise, fly and fall. I listened to their rustle, and I liked it. I've always loved kicking leaves, watching them and listening.

I left town, and kept walking, as usual. I took a look at the sunflowers field to my left. Most of them were already withering, their head looking down as if they were mourning. But one was strong, happy, alive. He stood out in the crowd, like a joyful sun. And I don't know why, but I went into the field, and got to him. I cut him at mid-length with my school scissors, half tearing it down. He still seemed smiling in my hands.

I could see our little house on the side of the street. An old, rustic and cheap house, white walls and green roof. I liked it nonetheless. When I pushed the door, my mother came to me, a worried look on her face. I didn't tell her why I was late, and she scolded me for stealing someone's sunflower. I didn't care much, that time.

I left the sunflower on the dinner table, and went up to my room. And I thought about the little boy. He was quite young. Too young to die. His life resembled autumn's dry leaves. They rise into the air, dance with the wind, and fall. Or maybe he was like that sunflower, happy and joyful, who got his life taken from him. I don't know.

...

I do know. His name was Laurent. We lived in opposite directions from school. He had to cross the street. I can still see him, waving at me from the school's gates. And he was my best friend.

This was fourteen years ago. Each year, when autumn starts, I think of it.

Tu n'es plus au monde, mais les feuilles doivent toujours tomber sur ta tombe...