All them Empires striking back OR: Why Chewbacca never pees

Pepe and I went for an open Question Time on climate change in the Student Guild´s Stanley Theatre, where university representatives and members of the green party talked a lot of sense but, as was often the habit of scholars, palavered and cross-referenced and lapsed into an infinite loop of mind parade never to come to a real conclusion. Only when the organizer of the event, a young lively alternative girl, all smiles and uncomplicated, stepped up to the stage in order to add her five cents, did some life come into this convention. We were supposed to move our own buttocks, to do something ourselves, multiply the message, bring it to the people and start the process by acting ourselves. It did not help complaining about those we despised for their bigotry and their reluctance to change the world for the better in a truly beneficial sense. I had a poster of Bush as the world´s biggest terrorist on my door. A very student-like form of protest of course. I was listening to Springsteen, Guthrie and Public Enemy and tried writing my own protest poetry. This chap had failed to sign the Kyoto charter, so much on the topic, but that was just one of the many evils he set into this world. Encouraging the flow of investment. “History… we don´t know. We´ll all be dead”, he said, and maybe he was right in a horrible, twisted way, just as Mein Kampf might have been on the right track when postulating that life was war, see the Clinton doctrine, and Clinton was who we liked much more, wasn´t he? but as heard yet again in the inaugural lecture of the new professor of ancient history the other day, neo-imperialism reigned the world. “We are an Empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality.“ That was cynical post-modernism at its best. I had watched Winterbottom´s disturbing Road to Guantanamo recently. Perspective. One word, one idea might have several definitions, one definition might describe a million things. The world was amorphous. Continue reading