Ever since the inception of this bordello republic, the elitists and the nepotists have sucked the blood dry from it's veins, turning people into the impoverished and desperate yet hapless primates they have become. We are at the last few drops of blood, the leftovers, so, these few bloodsuckers are at each others throats. For the leftovers….live on TV…
My mother tells me tales of how her mother ordered her to chew bread when she was only a child to feed her newborn brother. Technology and welfare have progressed since those days, civility has not…
If I cannot sell you the "leftovers" idea, then how about the cocaine conspiracy theory?
A month or so ago, YKAN (the drug enforcement agency of bordelloland) managed to confiscate 100 kilos of cocaine. Now, a keen mind will point out that 100 K's of coke for an island with less than one million population is a lot of white dust. Check that, it's a HELL OF A LOT of white dust. Makes me wonder…do they snort half of it and the rest they use it to bathe the famous Yeroskipou lokkumia (traditional sweets) in? Or maybe slap some on the faces of politicians before they go on TV making them look like kourabiedes (traditional Xmas sweets). I mean, makes the assistant attorney general with make up look like an extra from "Night of the Living Dead".
Cocaine is not a cheap drug if you can't get a high from music and wine. A doobie will cost 20 Euros?
1 gm of cocaine is over 100 Euros so who is using it? Those who can afford it, of course. In Cyprus,
it's most of the "well off". We are talking Doctors, Lawyers, Politicians, Businessmen (who haven't gone under)… A nose diaphragm test will prove it. So, take away 100 K's from these people and they will go at each other's throats… Conspiracy theory over.
In truck stops and hamburger joints
In Cadillac limousines
In the company of has beens
And bent-backs and sleeping forms
On pavement steps
In libraries and railway stations
In books and banks
In the pages of history
In suicidal cavalry attacks
I recognise…
Myself in every stranger's eyes
And in wheelchairs by monuments
Under tube trains and commuter accidents
In council care and county courts
In drawing rooms and city morgues
In award winning photographs
Of life rafts in the China seas
In transit camps, under arc lamps
On unloading ramps
In faces blurred by rubber stamps
I recognise…
Myself in every stranger's eyes
Upon this hill I plundered from the pool
I look around, I search the skies
I shade my eyes, so nearly blind
And I see signs of half remembered days
I hear bells that chime in strange familiar ways
I recognise…
The hope you kindle in your eyes
5.06 AM (EVERY STRANGER'S EYES)
Roger Waters
So hold on to the ones dear to you. Hold on tightly...
