25. 07.

My "Prague: A Novel" Moment with Pavel Vondra

Pictured below is the phenom known familiarly as Pavel Vondra:

For those of you who don't know him or have never met him, he's Aktulane.cz's Senior Foreign Affairs Editor, responsible for all English-language sections (in Czech, rubriky) at the site, more generally. Basically, anything in the English language which goes through Aktualne's "CzechNews" pipeline, must first go through Pavel's good offices. Pavel's standards are high. His stories are atypically Czech. He covers breaking news from regions of the world the large Czech mouthpieces and media organs don't have the brass testicles to cover in their pulpy pages.

Yesterday night after Toil, we sat for a few beers near the site's spanking brand new digs in Holesovice. Yep -- as you can rightly imagine -- that's when the conversation began to get quite animated and positively politically-charged.

Do tell, you ask? Alright, then kindly allow me to indulge you...

I admitted to my interlocutor of being suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling I can only describe as my very first "Prague: A Novel moment."

*** POSTSCRIPT: If you haven't read any of Pavel's stuff previously, you'd be surprised to learn he's just about one of the most promising up-and-coming journalistic "Wise Old Men" this country will have seen in quite some time. ***

But first, a couple of words about Prague, um...the novel, that is.

The story, scratched out on parchment with blood for ink by Arthur Phillips (just kidding), details the longings of a group of misfit mixed Americans who somehow find themselves situated in early '90s Budapest, Hungarian Democratic Republic. They look enviously upon that which is transpiring "upstairs" in a country one above them -- up in Czechoslovakia -- and more specifically, up in Prague. They're jealous of a city -- for its era -- which has become the lightning rod for all that's bright and beautiful about the post-Communist universe. They wish to go there too, and the kampf they suffer down in Budapest is connected to the dissonance they feel about being in second-rate Budapest.

Phillips' novel is indeed a challenging read in English (his expressions are not customary -- lots of lexical acrobatics there!), and I told Pavel so. When I brought up the title, he'd surely heard of it in the past, but didn't realize the verisimilitude of what the book was describing compared to what we were getting into conversationally at our table.

Flashforward to our conversation...about Czech youth.

In the early '90s, here was the general Czech and Slovak profile for Young People in this newly democratic crater:

** eschewed the snivelling, backstabbing, opportunist ways of the last 20 years of "normalization" politics.
** competent in all manner of higher techs, and more open to foreign languages than their parents, who -- when encountering non-Czechs in the Prague streets, for example, were swift to respond with a "Nerozumim!" when you approached them in your native tongue. These same parents used to run away as well.
** despised the pain, the hurt, the imprisonment, the torture, the cruelty and the letdown their parents generation were made to suffer under Husak's Soviet-aspiring hardline regime behind the Zelezna opona (the "Iron Curtain"), and would seek ways -- in cheek-by-jowl cooperation with Poet-President Havel -- to remedy this...for all time.


But as we all know, by the end of the '90s we realized how this was all a pipe dream. We were high on newly-liberalized grass and LSD (we didn't yet know of the harms of the latter, given that such information was samizdat in Communist Czechoslovakia). And the drugs were cheap. The drugs were good.

With one successive Czech (and Slovak) political letdown after another, we realized the boundless hope that we'd placed in our elected former Communist leaders was utterly misguided.

Czech sempiternal repugnance set in like viscous molasses, and our Young People became just as malfeasant as their parents and forbears had been. The only difference was that Young People had more gewgaws and better plane and transport access to places all across Gaia in which to ply their crooked and misguided machinations.

The new profile for these happy optimistic youth instead became:

** a desire to perfect the raw, unrefined corrupt thieving talents of their predecessors; only this time with access to global markets, the world's banking system, usually hopped-up on all manner of sexy designer drugs and brandishing expensive toys. They would abscond to jetsetting destinations with alarming regularity, increasingly as places of refuge from the newly-democratic Czech police.
** to be extremely savvy technically, that would allow them to could collect graft and ply their various evil misdeeds in merely a fraction of the time it would take their parents to do so. Instead of running the other way when hearing foreign tongues, Czech and Slovak Youth became not only expressive masters in their native tongues, but could shake their swagger sticks in other global lingas franca as well: German, Chinese, Spanish, French, and, in most cases, English.
** to despise the neo-Stalinist crimes of the past, and to still be shocked and dismayed to discover the depth of the obfuscating and two-facedness of the Communist regime, yet rather than dig deeper into the past -- willing to probe the stymying mystery of things like the still-alive post-War Benes Decrees, all the while '68ers would be receiving monetary compensation for sufferings at the hands of the Soviets and the Warsaw Pact invading and occupying forces -- they'd prefer to leave well enough alone.


There's much more, but we're time-pressed folks...I'm cutting to the chase.

It was at this time that my "Prague: A Novel" moment kicked in.

Phillips was masterful in outlining in his book how the young Americans in Budapest were betrayed by time...how they arrived in Hungary with a dream of changing the way the future would spill out in front of them. How young Hungarians -- in this instance -- were hopeful that they could "write the future" according to a new set of rules.

According to the dictates of their ultimate desires.

How the mistakes of the past needn't be repeated. The future as a blank canvas. The horrors of the "'56 Generation" just a twinkle in some old fogies' eyes.

I told Pavel all this. He smiled and wholeheartedly agreed to get his hands on the novel. Though he couldn't commit to a deadline as to when he'd knock it out, knowing Pavel and his penchant for working through a couple of feet of written material each 10 hour workday, I somehow know I'd soon be hearing more about his discoveries.

Wishing you the best of weekends,
Tri-lettered ADM


~~~~

As a bonus, I've reposted 23.07.08's entry sans the allegedly offensive bits, entitled, THE THREE-COFFEE RITUAL. This was as per Editorial's instructions. (Je mi lito, @stejskal-e).





I, like you and most residents of the Dour Village, consume more than a reasonable amount of coffee bean extract on most of my "sane" days. Today happens to be one of them.

The message has been pounded into us by the health smithees and assorted other fanatics: the totally legal drug -- otherwise known as caffeine -- has heapful therapeutic properties. The oft-repeated message has penetrated our thick skulls: coffee aids in the digestive process, coffee helps you think. Coffee is good for you.

I adhere to a rigid three-coffee Prague ritual on most mornings. Kindly allow me to break down my java consumption habits on a 1-2-3 cup-by-cup basis, a little colour for your afternoon reading pleasure.


Cup #1 -- "Assault Those Tastebuds"

** I don't need coffee to wake up, since I'm rather awake at most times and hours of the day. Yet this first cup's purpose is to slake that caffeine thirst which assaults my senses right around the first 20 minutes after arising from my otherwise royal slumber.
** Cup#1's got to be down and dirty. It's got to come fast and furious, sans flourishes, and moreover, it's got to arrive on my desk with zero delay.
** I generally polish this one off quickly. Several slurps, and it's gone (down my piehole, that is). Within seconds the elixir takes its toll. My pupils widen, my pulse shoots into the high hundreds, and the ideas start to flow, flow, flow, baby.


Cup #2 -- "Recline and Enjoy the Ride"

** This cup's strictly made for pure enjoyment. Since I practically inhaled that first piping mug, this one's brewed for the savouring.
** I generally like to move the mug around the desktop several times, angling for best position as I shift my ancient 'puter hither and tither in search of the optimal typing posture.
** I'll generally add a wee bit more milk, and perhaps even a dollop more sugar to this second round of the hot brown liquid. This stands in stark contrast to the first cup, which I attack with reckless abandon, like Sigourney Weaver's Ripley in ALIENS after a long cryosleep without coitus.


Cup #3 -- "Pushing That Heart-Pumping Envelope"

** This cup follows about half-an-hour after the previous, and is -- for all intents and purposes -- completely unnecessary. By now I've got so much javajuice in me that I'm hoppin' worse than a Czech addict in Smichov in one of Topol's novels.
** I drink it because I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that this will be my final visit at a Prague-area coffee house. Every moment is precious, therefore best to top up on that feelgood while you can. Be like Russians in this regard.
** I order it because I can. I drink it because others in the world don't have the same luxury. I pay for it because I like to spread the surging Czech crown wealth and because the men and women who are the faithful servers at their respective hospitality establishments are some of the finest pro-am's I've had the good fortune of tipping.

Provided all of this goes off without a hitch, my day is golden, like the city I call home. Any deviation from this rigid itinerary, and things go awry.

You too, I guess?

Wishing you, the best of things,
ADM

24. 07.

Loic LeMeur: The Reason Why We "Socially Compute"

I sat down on my swivel chair this morning at the 1s and 2s and almost pumped out several magnificently-spun lines in response to something I'd read at one of our recent comments c/o @sportovec (that, sadly, will have to wait until tomorrow).

However -- as such things generally go -- destiny had other ideas for me and my writing course took an entirely different direction. As I pumped open my feed reader, out popped this, courtesy of Loic LeMeur, the Man.

In summary -- and it's a short post if you want to grab a look at the source material for yourself -- Loic raves about how his baby seal, Seesmic, is one of the first apps to personalize the computing experience for users. Rising above the bland anonymity of comments, chats, and emails, Seesmic since February 2008 has permitted users to view each other in recorded action, in full-streaming video.

Clearly, Loic's onto something here. Moreover, Seesmic might also be something Czechs'll find uzasnej, amazing. An app which will pull Czechs out of their collective soporific drowsiness and challenge their societal tendency towards passivity and cause them to rethink their predilection towards ad hominem attacks which seek to not only discredit the interlocutor in question, but to totally destroy her/him and her/his reputation. Not to mention the plethora of troll attacks, anonymous critiques from those who would rather censure than do, and other "Czech" insecurity complexes which are the collected muck of at least four centuries of serving the interests of Greater Powers than Ourselves.

I see many upsides for the post-Communist countries, in terms of a swift uptake of the Seesmic API and in terms of breaking down that massive "Berlin Wall (Great Wall of China?)" of F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) that's grown like poison ivy around our nation's soul. Seesmic might go quite a ways to dismantling the suspicion Czechs presently have vis-a-vis one another (especially amongst revoltingly materialistic Husakovy deti, the irrecoverably self-absorbed make-money, make-money progeny of 1970s-era "normalization" fame in the Former Czechoslovakia).

Here in the Golden Village, skills improvements come fast and furious. Frankly, I see them all the time in my various professional dealings.

Compared to when I started here back in Double-Oh-Two, Young Czech "Turks" (and Turkettes) have come a massively long way in terms of know-how, "showing their balls," and technical competence.

Just like Twitter, Utterz, and other famous social networking apps, Czechs are some of the keenest post-Commies on the "consumer trial" vector. I'm convinced that once a critical mass of Czech users flock -- en masse -- to Seesmic, our inherent Czech genetic tendencies towards "following the strongman" will result in a brisk usage of the Seesmic interface. A re-dawning of that Age of Aquarius I'd like to be witness to once again.

If you haven't seen Seesmic yet, have a look at the genesis of the project here.

Wishing you the best of things,
ADM





*** A quick general note about LeMeur's posts: Now here's an example of a European with massive cojones {Loic being half-Spanish certainly helps!). Did you know that Loic wasn't afraid to venture all the way to America's Left Coast to kickstart his new Seesmic venture?

I have consummate respect for his follow-through, and in terms of a relevant European example for Czechs to aspire towards, I think Loic fits the bill handily.

Given Czechs' adoration of all things French without exception (to the complete bafflement of the experts!), this bodes well for Seesmic in the Czech lands. For Czechs...if it's French = it's good.***

22. 07.

Karadzic Has Been Nabbed...So There Is A G.od After All!

** UPDATE --> with video! ***



Today's post embellishes upon the following bit of audio commentary over at my omnibus site...

You know, I can almost remember as if it were yesterday...those university fireside chats around the smoky Trotskyist tables, the clandestine meetings of our college anarchist cell. Secreted away, as we were, in those hushed corners of the neo-Classic cafes of Montreal's French Quarter, we introduced the then-novel notion that there were three men on the globe whom the world could not -- nor would not -- take down:

1) Saddam.
2) Slobodan Milosevic.
3) Radovan Karadzic.

With respect to the first two, we all know what befell them.

Saddam was hanged by a trial of his peers, escaping the worst of the accusations levelled against him, his cronies, and his two sadistic sons -- Uday and Qusay.

Rather than face the music for the mass gassing and bombing of the Kurds in the north of his country, he was brought up on charges for another trifling crime -- a pittance compared to the mass murder committed against his fellow Iraqi citizens in Kurdistan. His neck was unceremoniously snapped at the end of the hangman's noose in Baghdad.

Slobo, meanwhile, apparently committed hari-kiri under tight guard in The Hague, or so we've been lead to believe. He, too, succeeded in evading the worst of his gross misdeeds, suicidally excusing himself from the orgy of hatred which would likely have been his destiny had he lived to face the music.

And now, we move onto Karadzic.

So far, there have been no haggard, Saddam-like photos released of the man who has been at large for more than a decade. A crafty adversary who has eluded the long arm of US international justice, not to mention NATO forces on the ground in Bosnia, replete with the sundry corruption allegations which have been hurled at said policing authorities, the rap being why NATO hasn't bagged him and brought him in sooner.

Here's a purported photo of one of his more famous getups, sporting long white hair and bearded, all professorial and all:

Yesterday, when the "Serbian Security Forces" -- ever wonder what they comprise? -- nabbed him clean (with Ratko Mladic likely soon to follow, once they apply the pressure on the silver-maned head shrinker and part-time "poet extraordinaire"), the imaginings of a one-time anarchist agent-provocateur from Toronto have come to an untimely end. I have not only hung my spurs and given up my Canadian passport, but I have also cast my lot in with the destiny of the citizens of Bohemia. But that, my friends, is for later blogging.

Now that Karadzic has been taken into Dutch custody at the ICTY (International Criminal Tribunal For The Former Yugoslavia in The Hague), I've once again become a staunch believer in g.od, something Trotsky himself never likely had the joy of experiencing from the confines of his latter-day Mexican redoubt.

And if Karadzic is, indeed, traceable, folks, then Osama isn't too far down the pipeline.

It's all a matter of will and dosh, and who's got the meaner spherical sac of testicular venom (aka "the balls") to go out there and nab the elusive Saudi terror-financing tycoon.

Yesterday's reports off the Serbian wire transported me back about 15 years. Yet somehow one thing remains inconclusive: has the nightmare just ended, or has it just begun?

21. 07.

Roma in Canada

Touchy subject and colossally painful stuff, friends. Ouch, I'm still smarting after the morning's read...

Among other sources, The Toronto Star was reporting over this weekend how Canada (my former "home and native land") is reconsidering slapping a visa requirement back on our hapless Czech citizens -- yet again! Their crime? An apparently "overwhelming flow" of Roma "asylum seekers" to the constitutional monarchy on the other side of the Pond, in excess of certain so-called pre-agreed "acceptable limits."

Some immediate questions arise after reading the bare bones news coverage, likely the bleakest of sources to get informed by (take it from me -- I practice journalism in the Czech Republic, where if your cellphone has the gumption to ring while giving an interview to His Hipster Highness, you don't have the gall to write anything other than fawning praise for the Government and its policies because he's scared the living crap out of you. Not mentioning any names, of course!).

Here 'goes:


1) What's the problem with more Roma in Canada?

If the Canadian government is worried about too many gypsies on its territory (for practically similar reasons the rest of the Continent seems to be, then why can't Ottawa just come out with it -- down and dirty? Canada, you've got some stinkin' double standards there -- thank goodness I surrendered my passport earlier last year).

The opinion of one of my Prague-based former Canadian mates (MK, you so rock, kamos!) is aptly quoted here: "Canada has become so g.oddamn diverse, so g.oddamn multicultural, that the Prime Minister's official statements are so drippingly politically-correct, they border on the obscenely banal."

I couldn't agree more.

Jeez, if The Land North of 45 is so burned about Roma, why can't it just come out and say so? If you've got a selective immigration policy, Canada, then plainly say so. Don't faff about. Czechs obviously don't, don't we Mr. Cunek and Ms. Janackova and humble citizens of Vsetin?


2) Are Roma more guilty than certain other ethnic groups in Canada for so-called "societally-objectionable" behaviour?

If we're already talking about the Canadian example, then I can name-drop at least three (though I won't) existing "cultural communities" in Canada who likely have even more notorious reputations than Roma for certain societally-objectionable things! In fact, considering what I know and have experienced myself as a former Canadian -- born, raised, and university-educated -- Canadians would likely be pleased as maple syrup to have more Roma residing in their country, at the very least because of how they'd richly add to the cultural fabric of the nation.


3) If all 2004 EU joiners don't require visas -- then why do Czechs?

The PR horizon for Cesko doesn't look too rosy right about now, kids. With the brouhaha swirling about on Missile Defence (MD) and with our current governing "coalition" dogpaddling in uncertain waters come Fall 2008, do we really need yet another stake through our part-time satanic hearts?

Here's another question for you: are the Czech authorities doing a capable-enough job of enforcing Canada's visa-free stipulations and quotas? If not, why (the heck) not? If Canada's already giving you a "gimme," then why in Tarnation can't the Czech immigration poobahs hold up its end of the bargain?

Or perhaps this is part of a ticha dohoda -- a "silent agreement" -- between certain clandestine forces to rid the Holy Republic of a sizable minority of its native citizens?

Personally, I think a majority of Roma who decide to emigrate and situate themselves in Canada will not merely survive, but thrive. If not in the present generation, then certainly by the next.

Canada is a "make money-make money" nation. If you don't pull your own weight, you don't enjoy the cream. Roma peoples wouldn't be able to sit on laurels. Just like any other citizen (gosh, this sounds so Napoleonic, doesn't it? So French Revolutionary, actually).

And we all know: "No money, no honey."

So, does that make the tri-lettered (and charactered) ADM discriminatory (g.od forbid)?

Something tells me someone up on the Castle Promontory wouldn't think so...welcome to the new Czech Arithmetic...

18. 07.

Americanizing the Czech Language

Disturbing developments are afoot in our Golden Village of late, if you haven't noticed, and it's the unwanted infiltration of Americanisms into our ancestral, holy tongue. Czech is being irreversibly polluted with each passing minute by the most colossal of Esperanto-esque pressures to simplify and dummy-down our vernacular. I, for one, resent this. I am now on heightened alert.

Something tells me during the Old Time -- especially during the former Czechoslovakia's "love-in" with Mother Russia during the Ferocious Fifties -- Praguers didn't import Russianisms into our lingo, shouting "blyat" and "subaka" at each other in drunken reveries at Czech pubs, now did they?

Have a squizz at this snippet of conversation I snagged at a downtown restaurant last night:

Man: "Ahojky Vlad'ko, jak se fucking mas mamasita?"
Woman: "Mela sem hroznej den, ver mi, papasito."
Man: "Bylo tak shitty, jo? Kromne tomu rekni mi co se deje?"
Woman: "Whateva'...nechci kamo. Mam velky hlad, musim ihned neco jist."

(For my non-Czech readers:

Man: "Hi Vladko, how the fuck are you, mamasita?"
Woman: "You won't believe what a terrible day I had, papasito."
Man: "That shitty, huh? Other than that what's happening?"
Woman: "Whateva'...I don't want to, bubs. Anyways, I'm famished. Let's eat!")


and so on, and so forth.

Yes, the man was clearly effeminate and likely even a pants-chaser, yet that's not the point.

What you can however clearly witness by the supplied example is that our Holy Czech Tongue is being bastardized by the infiltration of Americanisms and other nonsensical expressions into our rigid Teuton-inspired 7-case grammatical structure, Praise Be.

Where on G.od's Green Earth are we living, moje pratele? In Spanish Harlem?

I'm reminded of that forth clip from Drawn By Pain a series I recently completed where the episode's Antagonist -- quite clearly a Hispanic American -- was taunting our hero, Emily Waters, in Spanglish, of all languages. Normally, I find Spanglish cute, in a maudlin sort of way, yet now that I can see how American-inflected English been corrupting our Czech Linguistic Purity, I ceased being one of Spanglish's strident fans. (I know, J-Lo baby, I still adore your rubenesque doopa, but "America" is killing our holy ancient Czech culture, our precious legacy and ethnic purity, and leading our young XX/XY Czech Chromosomal Units into no uncertain linguistic ruin).

So what's the Remedy? 3 suggestions for you...

1) Every time you hear a young Czech (male/female, since it hardly matters) slapdashing "Americanisms" and other linguistic shortcuts into daily Czech parlance, mosey on over to that soul and declare your extreme displeasure with the mongrelizing of our Ancient Speech. Explain in measured, rational tones -- without a scintilla of violence -- how the continued adherence to grammatical faux-pas and other spoken gaffes in our Tongue with eventually water down our uniqueness in Europe, fulfilling that doomsday scenario, as our Esteemed Econcomics Doctor up on the Castle Promontory is wont to say, that "Czechs will be dissolved like a spoonful of sugar in the European cup of espresso" if the EU is permitted to roam free in our country.

2) Lobby the Czech Ministry of Culture to finally introduce -- since the idea's been kicked around since early 2006, when the present Communist Administration came into being -- its "Office of the Czech Language," complete with Language Inspectors who will walk around the city making spot inspections at various cafes, restaurants, shops, and places of business to ensure that Czech is always paramount and prominently displayed. If a street sign includes both Czech and a non-Czech tongue (since the rest of them are all insignificant, anyways!), its Czech lettering must be at least double the size of the, say, English or German lettering, otherwise a fine shall be sternly levied. A second infractions of this regulation will result in a suspension of business activity for a period of 30 days. A third violation entails a complete dissolution of the s.r.o.

3) Whenever you hear Slovak spoken on our Prague streets, constantly interrupt the Slovak speaker as they mispronounce our distinctly Czech words like "Masarykovo Nabrezi" or "pristi" or "hrbitov." When they say "tri" or "ctyri" in Slovakian without our gorgeous Czech "r," refuse to engage them in conversation. Spank them even, albeit gently, and ideally on the forearm. Force Slovaks to realize the futility of their nation's independent future. Since Slovaks are usually some of the most flagrant violators of Czech Linguistic Purity, responsible for the "Americanization" of our Czech language, to boot -- a retroactive retaliation against we Czechs for keeping the more violent Slovaks at bay during the more than 40 years of "co-habitation" with them -- Czechs must stand shoulder-to-shoulder during this time of dire need.

~~~~

What's clear is that the Czech language is under brutal siege.

The pace of our language -- regardless of whether the Czech speaker in question hails from Moravia or Bohemia -- has massively sped up. Czechs are now forced by circumstances to fit more Czech words into an American-paced dubbed sentence during the dubbing of distinctly American TV programs, with the overall effect that this is corrupting our language and culture.

You don't agree with me? (It's permitted, by the way).

Well then have a listen to some of Milada Horakova's recorded trial testimony from 1950 and see exactly what I'm on about. The mellifluous depth of the late Ms. Horakova's Czech speech is peppered with the way Cyril and Methodius would have truly wanted us to converse in our Holy Tongue.

I love America. I love Americans. I support America's Cause in the world. My commitment to them is unswerving.

But my beef with America begins when Americans abroad attempt to impose linguistic hegemony on our Ancient Czech Traditions, our Special Bohemian Ways, and our Holy Czech Culture.

I know it troubles you as well. Stand by me now during this time of danger.



Preji Vam hezky vikend,
Wishing you the best of things,
ADM

17. 07.

Who Do I Root For? For Cesko?

Ano...the mighty Olympic Games are coming up soon in Beijing and I'm feeling that familiar wave of stress which washes over me every Olympiad, pratele.

You know what I'm talking about?

I just know I'm going to have mondo trouble in the "who to root for" department. In whose name will I clink beer stein after countless beer stein in congratulatory quaff upon congratulatory quaff? Will I do so for Canada, my so-called "home and native land?" Or will it be for my adoptive hearth and home, the Czechlands? Right now, I'm rubbing my antsy thumb and tweaking my aquiline nose in despair...woe...woe is me...

So I decided to fall back on familiar patterns to save the day. Kindly allow me to fish out my notepad, where I took the liberty of drafting a PROs/CONs List to support my case both for and against rooting for Cesko.


Let's begin with the bad news, so that we may more efficaciously get it out of the way...


CON:

1) The Canadians are livid enough with me as it is, thank you very much, for having previously relinquished my Canadian citizenship. Since my blood family (as opposed to my new Czech family) still resides in that Land North of 45, I might very well be endangering their livelihoods -- nay, their very souls -- if the Canadian Secret Police dressed in Red Serge were to discover my whereabouts in some dank Prague cellar, sitting glassy-eyed as I knock back the shots. No, we can't have that happen...

2) It might appear as though I'm carpetbagging for several of my Czech colleagues and loved ones. When our summer Olympians begin racking up their medals and kicking major global sporting posterior, if I cheer too vigorously for Cesko it mightn't exactly leave the most flattering impression.

3) I haven't sincerely studied the Czech athletic roster. I mean, sure, I already know some of the more prominent names and such, but that hardly makes me an expert. So if I gun full throttle for the Czechs, it wouldn't actually be out of a genuine true- and inner-knowledge of who, precisely, would be contesting the various competitions.

4) If I were to root for Czechs during the Games, I'd be doing exactly what the majority of other Czechs would be doing! Since my Inner Contrarian prevents me from being so sheep-like, the urge to go against the grain on this one remains strong indeed.

5) I disrespect the cult of denial that continues to swirl about the present Chinese hardline Administration. While our premier doesn't seem to have any cognitive dissonance about attending the Opening Ceremonies nor in participating in the activities of the Official Czech Delegation, I don't wholeheartedly agree with our Topol. Since this is really all about dosh and hardly about amateur sport, what's the point in tacitly accepting what the Chinese perpetrate against their own people? I don't do hypocrisy well...only sometimes...


And now for the shimmering positives...


PRO:

1) The Canadian team isn't really "Canada's Team," okay? (Remember the 1992 World Series-winning Toronto Blue Jays -- a team mostly filled with Afro-Caribbean, Latino, and African-American baseball players). For a Canadian team to really be representative of its namesake, its entire squad and delegation must -- by definition -- be populated by Native Canadians. And since the number of indigenous Canadian sportsmen and women are presently unknown to this writer, opting to support the Czech squad is more in accord with "racial purity," a perennial election issue for a critical mass of Czechs who live outside of Prague.

2) As part of my continuing effort to shuck off my "Canadian skin," what with my previous open mind towards novelty, completely unfettered interpersonal communication -- especially at the office -- and with my previous welcoming attitude towards newcomers in my midst, I've decided to jump on the bandwagon without a single qualm and support the Czech squad. So all you foreigners out there, you are forewarned! We don't want you here! (How did I do? Convincing enough as a Czech?)

3) My societal activism, my internet link popularity (no hubris, just a statistical fact!), and my overall online "brand identity" might boost the prospects of the Czech team in that all-critical region between the eyes -- your noodle. The sheer volume of words that shall sally forth from my pen in support of the Czech Sporting Cause will yank the discussion away from US Missile Defence, Russian threats of ballistic retaliation, and the endless yammering-on about vepro, knedlo, zelo (for our foreign readers, that's Czech "goulash" -- a uniquely Czech culinary invention, wink, wink) onto more valid pursuits, like "amateur" sport and Tibet.

4) Svelte Czech women in sporting attire (did you see the latest designs in today's Czech papers, by the way?)

5) It will be fun to see the Czechs trouncing their erstwhile incorrigible Slovak little brothers and sisters. Again, we have to teach our agrarian eastern neighbours a due lesson in humility. You breakaway in 1993? You take on the eurodollar in 2009? Who do you think you are?! As far as I can see, Slovaks are cruisin' for a massive bruisin'. I shall truly enjoy watching our mighty athletes clobber Slovak wannabe sportsmen and women into Slavic oblivion.

~~~~

So what do you say? Go Czech Team, go! Or "O Canada..."

Jaggers! Decisions, decisions...


--ADM

ps1: Why can't we modernize our language and use the globally-correct terms -- Beijing, Taiwan, and Shanghai? Not Peking (an old Catonese pronounciation, a vestige of the racist Opium Wars of the mid-19th century), Tchaj-wan, and Sanchaj -- gawd!

ps2: this is the music I was listening to as I compiled this post:

16. 07.

Mind Messages from the Other Side

I've something to admit, Loyal Bohemian, Moravian, Silesian, and Roma Readers. I'm afraid. Very afraid as I write this.

I woke up this morning after having received a Message from the Other Side. The Transverse...of the River. The Vltava.

I believe I'd dreamt I was standing atop the Castle Promontory, looking out over the delicious spread of Our Golden Village...

I was admiring the skyskrapers in Prague 4, constructed expressly by Czechoslovaks to beautify that former Communist (southern) stronghold, those bleak residential areas where one-third of the Republic's citizens still live.

I was inhaling the placid scene, the sheen of the thousands of cobblestones, tickled, as they were, with wet acid rain polluted by the carbon monoxide of heavy industry on a beeline from that mining meeca, Ostrava, to Prague's northeast.

I wasn't uttering a peep.

But I could hear the sound of voices. Aural echoes of trapped souls. Humans locked on the Other Side of town, under siege, clobbered daily by the sonic boom crescendo of Castle artillery fire -- endless salvos lobbed into the Old City under orders from Our Supreme Leader. Our Loving Tribune. That "blue/green/grey" monstrosity. You know who I'm talking about, The Straw Who Stirs the Absinthe.

I could hear the souls whining, weeping, stroking horsehair violin strings, Yehudi Menuhin-ing it. Sliced off -- as they were -- from their bretheren with a Red Sickle, deprived of their daily dose of Starbucks (lousy) coffee. Those were the voices of anguish.

Helicopters were coming and going on the Other Side -- a veritable flurry of activity. They seemed to be delivering things (because I had X-Ray Vision throughout), as the people sent things away, and awaited the arrival of these same transports -- a veritable lifeline for them.

But those weren't regular looking choppers -- they in fact resembled birds. Flapping flexible wings. A new-fangled aeronautic design, constructed by Czechs, taken in by osmosis through the blood over the generations -- the spirit of the 20-year compromised democracy known as the First Republic (and let me tell you, 20 years is a long time for anyone). Just like they used to do at Vodochody...

With each plaintive wail, it was like a dagger in my Pumping Organ. With each howl, I felt like crumpling up inside. My corpuscles were cringing.

Why was I hearing these voices?

Have I been singled out for a particular reason?

Has the finger been pointed my way?

Why?

I'm scribbling this post. I'm awake. My eyes are wide open and all of the crud's been scooped out. No white stuff, no blurriness.

But I continue to hear faint sopranos.

Is it normal? Am I?

15. 07.

Is Violence Ever Called For?

The hard-to-beat Ike "The Southern Splendido" Pigott of Occam's Razr over and down to the right in Birmingham, Alabama -- a XY Chromosomal Unit in whose image I fashion myself when it comes to the scribbling craft -- sent me a disturbing link courtesy of Ketchikan, Alaska last evening about the judicious use of violence: when, where , and if it were appropriate, militarily and/or otherwise.

That, moji pratele, in turn lead to a flurry of e-activity over at Utterz.com, where I proceeded to wax about this matter vigorously.

There I found myself behind the 1s and 2s, digesting the eloquent musings of an otherwise self-admitted callow youth who, from his comfortable (and mostly snowy) perch up in caribou country, had the surly gumption to dictate to we Central Europeans when it was appropriate for us to open a "can of whoopass" and press our violence buttons.

Concerning Czechs, I felt this was particularly pressing given our annual penchant for non-aggressive means of solving our national conundra. One of the primary reasons Prague, for instance, has so captivated my soul is due to its distinctly non Manchester-ian, Glaswegian, or more "Balkan" means of resolving Cesko's societal conflagrations.

I could easily have envisioned Peter Stanton's post as being penned by an unassuming Bohemian or Moravian up-and-comer, some Czech chap or miss who duly studied the lessons of our former Czechoslovakian Past and the steps which lead us up until this very day. Stanton's distinctly naive touches were positively scrumptous!

In any event, I thought I'd serve this one up -- fresh and piping hot -- to our readership.

And don't kid yourself: this is a hard topic to address, friends.

My personal sentiment is that wholesale avowals of societal "violence" (since one person's violence is another person's preferred mode of conflict resolution) is entirely wrongheaded.

Here in the Czech lands, we've seen the destitute result this mode of living, eating our hearts out, as we do, in our Central European crater. The Czech conflict gene has been extracted, as it were, from the ancestral Czech DNA. There are even Czech neurologists who contend that this gene has been absent from the Czech bloodstream ever since the rousing defeat of the Hussite forces at White Mountain/Bila Hora.

A society that doesn't know how to assert itself in situations of national need is a doomed society.

I know of too many young Czechs -- the next generation of sluggers, who, when they assume the reins of power from the former-KSC (Communist Party of Czechoslovakia) cabal over on the Lesser Side -- who don't wish to have the Cain-like stain of pliant citizen on their consciences. Those who wish, like the Czechoslovak Army did on those Sudeten ramparts back in thirty-eight, to trounce the enemy mustering at our gates, to reclaim the fighting spirit of General Zizka anew.

Until the advent of that solemn day, the rest of us will be compelled to sit and spin on that rusty nail, that cult of nonviolence, mellifluously promulgated by our navel-gazing Alaskan friend up in Ketchikan.

Is violence ever called for? Can there be a judicious use of it?

Surely you have an opinion, given the presence of our National Forces in Afghanistan and Eye-raq. I'd be curious to know what it is.

14. 07.

Prague Post Follow-up: Czechs Are "Spineless"

Like you, I watched the television news last night -- in addition to checking out the instant replay in this morning's papers -- about the Kroll audit initiated by Foreign Minister Karel Schwarzenberg into the shady financial dealings of Minister for Regional Development and leader of the Christian-Democrat Party Jiri Cunek.

While locals might be used to this, I believe these sorts of scandalous accounts come as quite a shock to newcomers to the Czech capital, even those who are apprised well in advance of what's to come, those with a fair degree of "entry preparation," so to speak.

Just looking at the smug photos of Cunek this morning in the newspapers, then reading the obfuscating Q&A he did (in Czech) with one of MfD's (Mlada Fronta Dnes'/Today's Young Front) correspondents, makes you wonder what kind of a legacy he's leaving for his kids.

Rather than shrivel up into a coil (like a snake) and hide himself under the nearest Moravian stone -- like precisely whaat would happen where the democratic movement is slightly more progressed -- he waddles about Parliament, swinging his big stick like a phallus.

It makes me sick.

I know it makes you sick too...problem is, you're in a position to do something about it and what are you doing?

ps my blog title follows closely on an op-ed piece recently done up in the Prague Post.

11. 07.

The Decalogue: Getting To Know Your Neighbours #3

*** UPDATE: Ubi concordia, ibi victoria!!! ***

Více »

10. 07.

Czech Immigrants Party -- Summer Congress

Radar bases, presidential hip-socket operations, the auditing of that Vsetin bigot's finances, demonstrations in the Wenceslas Square without a single video posted to YouTube in the English language so the rest of the world can chime in, and the Social Democrat (CSSD) Party's head honcho doing cloak and dagger deals with the Secret Middle Eastern Power accompanied by his Slovak mistress (who steps over dead bodies to get ahead and whose nation loves Israelis and Palestinians) down in the Holy Land...

Ano, what you're needing right around now is a quick review of the Summer Congress of the Czech Immigrants Party (CIP, pronounced "chip," for short). CIP Comrades travelled from far and wide across our great glorious republic to Prague during Monday to Wednesday of this past week to collaborate and plot.

For those who don't know, there are -- count 'em! -- 4 independent seats up for grabs smack in the centre of the Chamber of Deputies floor -- if you haven't seen its schematics (black is the colour) -- and we aim to capture at least one of these (2 projected) with heapful luck and much neo-Trotskyist backroom horse-trading -- a la ODS (the Civic "Democrats" in the Czech Republic, for all of our foreign readers not familiar with our ex-Communist parliamentarians.

So, s potesenim -- with pleasure -- I present the minutes from last night's session for all and sundry.

1) We'll be fielding several candidates in smaller Bohemian, Moravian, and Silesian locales. Our initial slate has us going head to head against the Established Party fatcats in Beroun, Rokycany, Plzen (aka Pilsen), Hradec Kralove, and Mikulov (aka Nikolsburg). We've chosen these various hamlets and villages for very specific reasons. In Rokycany, to wit, we want a CIP spokesperson closer to Brdy (aka Birdie), whereby we have closer access to the radar installation so we can coordinate flashmob demonstrations in support of the radar base with greater effectiveness and speed. In Hradec, on the other hand, some of our Thai hopefuls presently employed in a variety of agricultural functions in the loam soil farming district have established strong ties to local Bohemian organic farmers and rural types and wish to capitalize upon this ongoing connection, their good work in the field proof positive of their loyalty to the local electorate. We were also considering Vsetin...but we ran out of our stock of shoe polish and none of our African Comrades wanted to make the trip east...whereby they'd be that much closer to Slovakia, and we all know how much Slovaks love "the other" (especially now that they'll be hailing in the euro...more opportunity for fugees from the rest of the planet to take advantage of the Slovakian economy).

2) Several American Comrades holding Czech citizenship or permanent residency in the CR will be heading the CIP's List. The reason for this stroke of genius is rather simple: we're trying to forward the theory that between the Americans or the Russians (since there isn't an "independent" nor legitimate truly "Czech" option, don't we know it Condi?), the CIP will be campaigning hardcore for the Americans. Okay, okay, we know they're both imperialistic, those Ruskies and Yanks. We know the Americans are indeed up to something they're not letting us onto with the base action, but it doesn't matter -- America gives! Ever had a look at Russian "civil society groups?" Crikey! A nation which doesn't care a jot about its poorest citizens and unfortunates. A nation which doesn't dole out a single kopek in foreign aid, internationally, and a country with a terrible PR track record, especially lately with the radioactive wet job on Litvinov in the British capital, the swift rise of Tsar Putin, and this bluster about hitting Cesko hard with retaliatory moves against MD = Missile Defence. CIP's Americans will be able to forward our agenda with more convincing authority.

3) Mixed race Comrades will be featuring in Czech and English language YouTube clips plus doing interviews for Czech radio and with prominent Czech radio personalities in both languages. The message we're trying to put across here is thus: mixed-race Czech citizens, for example those with, say, one African parent and one Czech parent and who speak Czech as their lingua franca, are out there, live in your society, and they have a right to opine on the issues affecting day-to-day Czech life. They're not "accidents." They're not "sellout kids." They're not "Jungle Fever" babies. And their certainly *not* the progeny of so-called illicit relationships between "betraying" Czech girls who have gone outside the Czech Tribe to wed or procreate or have fun. And if I go to Liberec one more time and hear some blue-collar Communist at the bus station ask my friend why "...his teeth are so white while his skin is so black," I'm going to pull a Jan Palach and go all Jesuit on him. But the upshot is rather than sheepishly accept the sordid policies of our ex-Normalization era Communists over in Parliament, we'll rather stand up in Parliament -- a la '68 in France and Germany -- make a g.oddamn ruckus on the Legislature's floor -- of course dressed in jeans and all manner of other cheesy scrubs -- and filibuster against the scandalous practices which pass for parliamentary democracy in the the Czech Chamber of Deputies and the Senate. Politicians...you have been forewarned.

4) English as the CR's official second language. Czech citizens are masterful at languages, given that their vernacular only affords them the ability to converse with -- at most -- say, 20 million people on the planet (i.e. Czechs, Slovaks, Czechoslovak exiles, former First Republican Czechs with a major axe to grind, former German Czechoslovak citizens, bearded, Bible-thumping Poles, Czech-Poles, Czech-Slovaks, Slovak-Poles, Polish-Slovaks, Slovak-Czechs, Ukrainians, Roma, etc.). Since we're all speaking English to each other, not to mention how the Czech language itself bears increasingly little resemblance to the florid cestina you would once hear from the saintly lips of, say, the recorded "transcripts" (since they were doctored anyways) from Milada Horakova's show trial, a motion passed last night over the smoky and alcohol-infested table that English should become the republic's second official tongue.

5) Pie-throwing as a legal means of protest in the Czech Republic against wayward MPs and Senators. Green Party Foreign Minister Schwarzenberg on Tuesday waded out into the demonstrating crowd in front of Prague's Cernin Palace (the Czech Foreign Ministry Bat Cave) and the tomato toss was actually pretty limp-wristed (if you ask me, the former Stb -- Czech Security Police under Communism -- bodyguard did a completely amateur protection job). In other words, it was just a rotten tomato. But imagine if someone came up to Schwarzenberg and squished a soft cream pie in his face? Now that would be an effective means of expressing your citizen's displeasure with the signing of the radar base long-term restrictive pact without even asking a single Czech citizen in advance nor holding a referendum on the issue since a country like Denmark can hold two national referenda on whether to accept the eurocurrency and other insignificant issues for their 5 million-strong population. Ten million of us and our affected neighbours (think the Temelin nuclear power plant here, babies!) don't get a chance to offer up our opinion to our "elected leaders." Oh, and just to remind you: the CIP is PRO Radar Base. But we are AGAINST Franco-ist, Husak-ian, Brezhnev-ian strongarm tactics.

In short, the other things were discussed were:

** do we make public some of our surreptitious backroom dealings to recruit Education Minister Ondrej Liska away from Bursik's Greens over to our side?
** full severance of diplomatic ties with Slovakia as a retroactive sanction for their hasty 1993 exit from the Federal Czechoslovak Republic (1989-1993, Rest In Peace) and for betraying their Older, Stronger Brother for taking on the euro before us. (NOTE: The CIP doesn't have any Slovak Comrades in our ranks -- even Benedict Arnolds like Petra Kovacova and other grave-digging Czech-Slovak females).
** a proposal for a Czech exit from the European Union and creating a "heaven on earth" Middle European Switzerland.
** a succession plan in case one of the ODS', CSSD's, or President Klaus' loyal minions decides to, ahem...relieve me, as CIP's Head, from active political activity.
** reintroduction of public drinking in Prague's squares...since this is what tourists come here for anyways, and is a great hard currency draw.

And much, much more...

VOTE CZECH IMMIGRANTS in November of this year!

08. 07.

Hans Renner's German Take on Czechoslovakian History

Fresh back from a writing assignment up in Denmark.

Glad to be home. Exceedingly glad, actually.

You know, there are few experiences I know of than that tingling sensation I get when landing at Ruzyne, blowing out of the arrivals lounge into the expectant Prague air, remembering what this nation -- and Prague, our enlightened polis -- represents to other Europeans across our now unified Continent, strong and mighty.

Before I wax all poetic on you, kindly allow me to digress anecdotally.

My Danish colleague -- one of the best writing wingmen one could ever hope for, and a XX Chromosomal Unit with Viking roots, to boot -- handed me this title the instant I got off the train at Aarhus Central Station, giggling all the while as she did so. Back in 1988 or thereabouts, Hans Renner -- one of the best Czechophiles on the record from our former occupying neighbour next door -- penned one of the more comprehensive pocket histories on the evolution of the state of affairs in the former Czechoslovakia ever written, in my estimation, the History of Czechoslovakia Since 1945.

Let's review the events of the era (for those of our younger readers on the other side of the Pond who aren't in the know) and the realpolitik extant at the time. The state of affairs here in Central Europe and the internal situation in the former Soviet Union, our former overlords, crucifiers, and unfortunate chief financiers of the time.


** Soviet-inspired Communism was showing its age. Major pressure fissures were threatened to rend Soviet society as the dual reformist policies of glasnost and perestroika -- the latter, especially -- were promising to fundamentally alter the manner in which the socialist bloc would interact, trade, and relate to the West (no one at the time could've predicted the swift rise of the neo-Tsars in today's Russia -- although I'm sure if you dig deeply enough, some fermenting scholar with a major case of bad breath and ear wax in some think-tank in the UK/US likely was positing the future rise of a "Putin" in the not too distant future. I can even recall conversations I'd had about 'round the campfire in upstate New York with my then-girlfriend's father, a prominent Montreal-based Russophile and engineer -- email me offline for the details).

** Czechoslovak Communism vowed to outlive the "insane" breaches of Marxism-Leninism being promulgated by Gorbachev. Meanwhile, back at the Prague ranch, while the Soviets under Gorby were hurtling headlong towards CPSU (Communist Party of the Soviet Union) reformation, alcohol prohibition, and gutting itself from the inside, the KSC/CPCz -- the Czechoslovak Communist Party, rather -- was digging in for a protracted ideological battle, vowing to hold onto those COMECON boons and their Tatra tram cars in Smichov until the Second Coming of Stalin. Our quisling hardliners installed during the post-'68 dung storm and Gustav Husak's (go Slovakia, go!) bureaucratic dystopia were going to battle the universe until their very last morsel of knedlik.

** Czech dissidents were being persecuted with even greater viciousness. Professor Renner is keen to cite how this happened not only to the usual collection of Charter 77 Signatories (egs. the eminent Dr. Jiri Gruntorad, one of my favourite local Prague personalities and the manager of Libri Prohibiti in Prague's Senovazne Namesti, Mr. Dienstbier, Karol Sidon, Ivan Klima, former President Havel, etc.) -- as would be entirely expected -- but also to those members of the then-nascent Czech Confederation of Political Prisoners. The authorities were cracking the whip hard. For those of you in P-Town on a furlough, have a look at some of the gonzo footage of the riots on the Wenceslas Square at the Museum of Communism.

While all of this was ongoing, Professor Renner was compiling his work. Silently, but deliberately, compiling his research and seeking publication. In light of the images and soundbites of the day, which expert would have predicted the swift downfall of the hardline Czechoslovak regime in the late '80s? Especially someone living in the West...they were dug in for good...

Back to my Danish colleague...

When she handed me the book, at first I was a bit skeptical.

Throughout the several years I've been shuttling back and forth between the rest of the planet and the Czech lands -- what Renner affectionately refers to throughout his narrative as the Czech "countries" (foreign readers: these are Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia -- the triconstituent components of our modern-day emerging wannabe democracy) -- I've read heaps of books on this subject. Besides, Renner's material was terribly outdated (the cover photo was a B&W winner up on Vinohradska). I had a deadline, and not to mention I toted along three other fat titles I had to plough through for my assignment.

Yet devour Renner's work I did. I positively loved it because:

a) It was extremely well-annotated and outlined. Renner -- or his translator from the original German, I presume -- explained in sharp, unadorned English the nature of the Czech and Slovak landscapes of the period. Within a compact, well-spaced 200 pages, a foreign reader of this treatise will have mastered the rudiments of the Czechoslovak post-WWII political conundrum...and a mind-numbingly vertiginous one it has been.

b) Hans Renner's passion for all things Czech and Slovak shine through brilliantly. For former political exiles and expatriates to the Czech (and Slovak) lands alike who have learned to love their (re)adopted home, the affectations of the people who comprise its citizenry, and the historical imperative of the Czech Cause -- both in Europe and in the world, more generally -- Renner's words warm the heart, despite the heavy academic nature of the subject material.

c) You cannot find this book in any Czech library (I've already searched), nor can you purchase it online for less than $50, shipping extra. And -- gift of heavenly gifts! -- my colleague hands it to me with as much fanfare as a spank on a baby's bottom. And I'm thinking...oh, here we go, another "Czechspert;" this time in the former of a German intellectual. Okay -- namaste! -- I admit it. I was completely wrong. Renner is a maven.

d) You clearly understand the underpinnings of the compromised lines of trust rending Czech society into a thousand tiny fragments. Former Party members who made it their life's mission pre-'67-68 to utterly obliterate (not merely silence, not just gag, but to totally and irreversibly bury!) non-Party members -- those who had been non-Party members since the beginning, not the post-'68 carpetbaggers like some of the bloggers on this site's prestigious A-List. Then, as they were castrated and undermined like vile dogs during the forced normalizace/normalization phase, how they were compelled to kiss non-Party behinds just to be permitted into the hallowed halls of the Czechoslovak Dissident Movement -- with the even mightier display of humanity being the Charter-ists compassion for these vile scum by permitting them into their tight inner circle (not sure I'd have had the same compassion as Mr. Havel et al. had, sorry)...you clearly comprehend why the culture has devolved into the way it is today...it's a society that's healing. Yes, still.

It's always been my ultimate wish -- especially after spending these many years in Prague -- that young Czech Gen Xers, Yers, and, now, Cers expunge and annul the blight of this past pain, this torment, and sordid Czechoslovak legacy that they've inherited by osmosis, surreptitiously, like a Trojan horse.

It hurts to observe it in effect.

To wit, last night's conversation with a colleague who works in the hospitality industry and earns a very substantial crown salary (and kindly forgive the expletives, as I'm quoting directly):

Friend: "You know, Adame, I hate to admit it, but I know my Czech people. We always look for ways to fuck with each other. We always seek ways to screw each other around for money and position and use each other all the time. I can be your friend one day, and when I don't need you anymore, I kick you [out] into the shit."
ADM: "That's rather an old-fashioned attitude, isn't it? Young Czechs don't think that way anymore...at least not my friends and my wife."
Friend: "You wouldn't believe what I still see today. You wouldn't believe your bloody ears, mate."

Ouch!

Yet, despite the seemingly dire prognosis from above, I felt a ray of light after finishing the Renner primer. I got up off my rattan chair in my Aarhus writing warren, even more enlightened about the country and the city which I'm honoured to call home.