An intro of sorts.

These are calamitous times. On this tiny speck of an island and beyond, all hell’s freaks seem to be taking over. Even the land itself seems to be angry: volcanoes are erupting, the land mass moves and quakes and ice caps melt.

It is, some argue, a time for seriousness, no time for mirth. Laughter nowadays,when all is awry, should not feature too highly.

But, as the situation grows more intense and horrific, even if I am derided, I will go on laughing. I will keep uncovering spots of lunacy in our daily life; I will burst the balloons of those in authority.

I will look at bigots, those sitting on silly fences, and those who think it is better to stay mum than upset the king, the emperor or his minions. I will laugh ecstatically in their faces. I will, I hope, laugh off all pomposity wherever it comes from – even if I am told off about my own verbosity and pomposity.

Liberty is not enjoying a good time here or abroad. Our leaders prize material well-being more than anything and more and more people sing the praises of wealth at all costs.

Our right to privacy and freedom of expression might be further curtailed, but no one can stop me laughing or joining others in outrageous laughter.

Laughter proves I am better than the oppressor; better off than the rich but corrupt. Laughter is my freedom to judge the authorities who denigrate the true worth of good governance. Poking fun at the authorities proves that I am alive and not a zombie kept going by silly handouts and outrageous little gifts.

Dictators – benign or not, democratically elected or not – hate laughter just as they hate the deeper truths. Depriving me of laughter is impossible, except by the ultimate act of the torturer and jailer: death.

Until we – or some of us – are not allowed to live, as happened with one lone voice in the wilderness back in October 2017, my vision for my life here on this little, dense rock, is to laugh on. Stop me living and I will stop laughing.

In these articles I will go on laughing and willing others to join in to prove that some of us are alive and know that the world is skewered and turned on its head.

Some laughter and some fun will not iron it out or straighten it. But it will, hopefully, poke some sensitive areas.

 

2018 is over

Thank God – or whoever should be thanked for cataclysms – for that; 2018 is over: dead, buried and long may it be forgotten.

In Malta we have slowly moved into an area where the unreal and the surreal have taken over. We are living in an amnesic bubble where the world gazes at us in amazement and we move on seemingly unperturbed.

All the world knows we are rotten to the core, yet we just wade on – because after all the economy is doing so brilliantly, so fry you Jack!

Just when you would think the leading party in opposition could be in pole position to take over the running of the country in a few years’ time, the PN sounds like an old hag – or an old male crank – gone completely barmy.

The PN, that powerhouse of old, is now toothless, aimless, racist, shambolic and in tatters. If the PN were a pirate ship, its leader would have walked the plank a long time ago – preferably tied to his cronies who are clueless in Pieta or wherever they walk and talk.

In times past, the PN in opposition would be way up in the scales of being the obvious choice to govern.

How Joseph Muscat and his merry pirates still retain the highest trust rating is beyond a joke. You would think the words ‘trust’ and ‘Joseph Muscat’ would not even be put together by Muscat’s most ardent, blinded followers. Love him for his conniving, for his incredible aptitude to decimate all opposition and for many other dubious, but successful, traits yet trusting the man is definitely surreal.

Do the Maltese trust Joseph Muscat because they are as callous as he is? Is this what we do not realise – that when Muscat is accused of lacking true values, his values are best suited for our country: the crass values of grab now and to hell with all things right and the future.

If it wasn’t so tragic, I’d die laughing.

 

Victor Calleja

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