TONY ON MANDELA, EVOLUTION & MORE

Including Three Word Wednesday and Totally Optional Prompts.
Have you had a go yet?

Welcome to my Wednesday magazine post.
Last weekend was Glastonbury time. The highlight of Brit music festivals, this marathon event was marvelous as usual. Whilst some of the headliners – The Verve and Kings of Leon – were somewhat depressive, the spirit lived on.

But one act that stuck out was Amy Winehouse.

Watching her on TV, she seemed to transport me back to the old smoky clubs, soulful music taking me over. At least, with my eyes shut. With them open, I watched a bizarre disaster of a woman, looking hardly on this planet, let out of rehab for the concert, and – possibly – punching a member of the audience.
I’m not saying she is a genius – far from it – but she highlighted the problem of the troubled genius – her talent is an expression of her troubles; a tragedy in so many acts. And she seems to also reflect present events. For something else was happening as Glastonbury was starting.

London hosted a 90th birthday concert for Nelson Mandela.

Winehouse was out of rehab for this, too, singing the finale: free someone or other. So, we had a weekend about Africa, too – beginning with a birthday party, and ending with a fake president swearing himself into office in Zimbabwe.
And just as there is an inconsistency in the troubled genius, we see the same in this troubled, dark continent. A statesman who is lauded and great, and a vile dictator who no African politician will dislodge – including the ‘great’ Mandela himself; just minor criticism and an urge to consider a national government of unity.
Perhaps Mandela is more a western creation – a man who was there, did well, but had mythology piled upon him. We placed our hopes for a continent in one man – a focal point for our guilt charities – produced a ‘genius’ to represent the troubles, allowing us to play around with the superficial without addressing the real problems.
It makes you wonder doesn’t it?
Next magazine post, Friday. See you then.

© Anthony North, July 2008

GIRAFFOLUTION

Graceful beast, it’s got some neck,
and long legs so it can trek,
then reach up to the highest tree,
chomping leaves with so much glee

The giraffe, it gave the solution,
to that theory called evolution,
species adaptation going mad,
with ultra-stretched neck, it was certainly no fad

It adapted to its surroundings,
its growth was simply astounding,
evolving to its ultimate height,
to collect its food without a fight

But good job it didn’t evolve in a city,
imagine how huge and pretty,
if the Eiffel Tower had been the tallest thing,
wow! that neck would really zing!

So what’s the moral of this story,
of evolution in all its glory?
What one species does to another,
can cause all sorts of bother

so remember as we continue to dabble,
in nature’s DNA as we scrabble,
to turn from men into gods,
loading nature’s balanced odds

That the giraffe displays it best,
how evolution can adapt to pests,
with a genetic neck rising to the top,
of our double helix, so us it can chop!
Full stop

(c) Anthony North, July 2008

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FUTURE PROSPECTS GOOD – Fiction

She sat at the table and felt good. The room was perfect. Just the two of them. Expensive – just as she was used to. And as she poured the champagne, she knew her life was going to be good from now on.
How different it had been only a couple of weeks ago. Married into money, she seemed to have the perfect lifestyle, but the slight problem of her not loving her husband made her indifferent. Hence, the affairs – lots of them. Which is where HE had come in.
‘So I pay up, or you expose me,’ she had said when he showed her the photos. Of course, she wouldn’t have minded, if not for the money. But she just couldn’t give that up.
…
He felt guilty after that first approach. At first he could see no reason for it. After all, he was a professional blackmailer – had a whole file on this type of woman, the easy pickings. But this one was different.
Maybe it was her looks. Yet he had blackmailed beautiful women before. So it soon dawned on him that he was maybe falling in love with her.
And she sensed it, too. Even though he was a blackmailer, she handed over that first payment with a kiss. And it felt so right …
…
She sipped from her champagne, smiled seductively, and he held her gaze. ‘So we’re agreed?’ she said.
He replied in the affirmative. Future prospects were good, he knew. And it seemed strange, as he laid down his file between them, that this was both a business meeting and a declaration of their future life together, in love.
She felt a buzz at the prospect of her becoming a blackmailer. The money would continue now, she knew that. And as he continued to drink from his glass, she watched as his eyes glazed and he fell from the chair, dead.
She picked up the file, smiled once more, and departed. Now she had a husband to divorce.

© Anthony North, July 2008