#my first mep! so happy that i can share this now!

[marshmallowgoop]

My part of MeeTsu's "Head Above Water" MEP!

A huge motivating factor for creating my YouTube channel back in February was the ability to be involved in MEPs (Multi-Editor Projects). So, I'm absolutely thrilled that I had the opportunity to be a part of this one, which came together beautifully!

Check out the full video here!

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Next Rainfall (2/4)

@miraculousfluffmonth , Day 13: Finally Alone

Now I can finally share the link to the lovely AMV @kellarhi made for me in our little fanwork exchange. Check it out, it’s amazing! Thank you for this gem!

***

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

AO3 / fanfiction

***

2. First Clue

It wasn’t easy to find her again. After all, he wasn’t exactly available every time the skies decided to grace Paris with another rain. And even if he happened to be free at the time, either Marinette didn’t go out or she chose different routes. The awareness that she might have been walking somewhere and he couldn’t get to her to learn something about her secret was slowly driving him crazy.

When he finally spotted the girl alone in the rain, a week later, he almost pounced on her in relief.

‘Here you are!’ he exclaimed stepping in front of her.

‘Mep!’ Marinette squeaked as she collided with his chest. He caught her expertly before she could fall to the wet pavement.

‘Sorry,’ Chat mumbled. ‘I thought you saw me.’

The girl exhaled audibly. ‘I wasn’t looking,’ she admitted. ‘I was thinking-’

‘About me?’ he made a show of flexing his arms and raising his brows.

‘Hah!’ she snorted. ‘You wish.’

Well, he would lie if he said he was opposed to such dreams. But that wasn’t the reason he was there, getting wet again.

‘Remember our deal?’ he murmured as low as he could.

Marinette started at the sound of his voice. ‘Y-yeah,’ she offered.

‘Well?’ he cocked a brow and ducked his head expectantly.

‘Hmmm,’ the girl sent him a studying stare. ‘What should I tell you first,’ she mused, gnawing at her lower lip.

‘Maybe something general,’ he offered. ‘Like the category of this secret. What is it about?’

Marinette’s cheeks turned dark pinkish color at his suggestion. She narrowed her eyes and he took a step back under the weight of her stare.

‘But you can tell me anything, really,’ he raised his claws protectively in front of him.

The girl tilted her head. ‘Actually, it’s not a bad idea,’ she admitted, her eyes dropping to her pink boots. She twirled the handle of the black umbrella in her hand before adding, ‘it’s about my crush.’

Chat’s eyes bulged comically. ‘Your c-crush?’ he croaked, feeling the heat crawling to his own cheeks. He had no idea why his treacherous body decided to react like this.

‘Yes, Chat,’ she confirmed with a short nod. ‘My crush. And that’s all you’re getting out of me today.’

Damn, instead of feeling sated he grew even more curious. That girl was devious, he thought, watching her disappearing around the corner. He heard a telltale splash of boots hitting another puddle and smiled to himself at the sound. That tidbit left him with more questions than answers. How was walking in the rain about her crush? Was she trying to lure them? Was she performing a summoning ritual? Was she just happy after meeting them? And at the back of his head a tiny voice volunteered: Who! Who was her crush? His insides twisted anxiously.

‘Who is your crush?’ he blurted out at her the next day as soon as he caught up with her.

‘It’s nice to see you too, Chat,’ she deadpanned. ‘Still no umbrella, I see.’

‘What? Oh,’ he backpedalled a bit. ‘Hi, Marinette!’ he gave a little wave.

The girl shot him a lopsided grin. ‘It’s been killing you, hasn’t it?’ she asked, not even trying to hide her contentment.

‘Yeah,’ he sighed in defeat, picking at the end of his tail.

‘Well, it was you who suggested it,’ she reminded. ‘I only followed your idea.’

‘I knooooow,’ he whined. ‘Now, please tell me, who is your crush?’ he deployed the kitten eyes.

‘Ooooh, heavy artillery, I see,’ Marinette chuckled. ‘But it seems I’m immune,’ her grin widened.

‘Please, please, please, Marineeeeeeette~,’ he chanted.

‘And where would be the fun in that?’

‘Fun?’ How was this supposed to be fun, he mused. It was torture!

Marinette twirled on her heels and jumped right in the middle of a giant puddle, splashing him as a result. Chat winced with disgust.

‘Fun,’ she repeated, as he raised his foot and shook it to let the water drip down.

‘This is supposed to be fun,’ she pursed her lips and fluttered her lashes - a picture of pure innocence, with the devil hiding beneath. ‘Or where you thinking I’m just gonna give you my secret without anything in return?’

He hadn’t thought about that. ‘So this is your price? My suffering?’ he sighed dramatically. ‘Not only am I getting wet, but also relentlessly teased? Do you have no shame, woman?’

He noticed her cheeks got warmer but she held his gaze. ‘I do have some, and that is one of the reasons I’m not going to tell you who my crush is. My offer still stands - one detail every time you find me in the rain. But I won’t blame you if you give up,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s not like you have to know my secret,’ she suspended her voice.

What a tease, Chat thought. She already got him hooked and she knew it perfectly well. His pride hurt a bit, so he decided not to let her know she won, at least not yet. ‘Well then, I need to rethink this whole deal,’ he waved a clawed hand at the puddles, the boots and the umbrella.

‘Think away,’ Marinette sing-sung. ‘You know when to find me!’ And without waiting for his reaction she sauntered into the next puddle, splashing the water with wide chassés.

[rejectedbyeharmony]

My First Husband

The title is a little tongue-in-cheek as I have not been married again, but I think it’s funny to refer to him as my first husband. After I ruined my life by dropping out of college and had no plans for my future, my dad made me go to work for him. My dad worked in remodeling. He tried his hand at his own company, but ended up going to work for a friend; and this friend was generous enough to give his free-spirited wayward daughter a chance. So, Dad had me working manual labor during the week, but the bonus was that I had a full weekend. Most of my friends worked retail or in the service industry so they had to work on nights and weekends.

I took to the internet to build a social circle. If you grew up in the time that I did, you probably spent your fair share of hours in AOL chat rooms. I was in a particular chat room that was geared toward the tattooed and pierced community. It was predominantly young adults who had a couple trashy tattoos and a bunch of piercings in their face and perhaps in their genitals… It attracted people who worked in the community or people who were attracted to people who were tattooed and pierced. But it was a pretty mixed bag of members all over the country.

I befriended a girl named Misty who lived in New Jersey, and we had been chatting online since I was in high school. We met finally when she and her family were visiting DC and I felt like I had found my long-lost sister. This girl and I totally imprinted on each other, and were inseparable aside from the distance.

One of my free weekends, I decided to go visit her in Central Jersey. I had never gone that far north by myself. But I figured after my trek to Charleston, a four hour trip to New Jersey would be cake. So I drove up there and got in late at night. Misty was working at the local Stop & Shop and she told me to meet her when she got off work. I pulled up in front of the grocery store and sat waiting for her as she came walking out with a couple of guys.

I got out to smoke a cigarette with them and she introduced me to Dale and Joe. They worked in the deli and they were “hilarious”, according to Misty. So far Joe had only poked fun at Dale’s last name, which was Butts. I’ll admit that I have the sense of humor of a teenage boy, so I definitely did laugh at that. But the jury was still out on “hilarious”.

They were having a party that night and we were invited. I was down! And so we said our goodbyes and headed back to Misty’s to get ready. She said, “I’m really excited for you to meet Joe because I think he’s awesome and I think that you’ll like him.” She also mentioned that she kind of had a crush on him. I was confused, and asked “so... do you want my approval or do you want me to hook up with him?” And she laughed and said “whatever’s clever girl!” But that’s how Misty was... you never really knew what she was talking about, but that was all part of her appeal.

So, we go to this party and we’re having an awesome time and I’m definitely digging Joe. Misty wasn’t wrong, he was hilarious. And, I don’t know, there was just something about him that was different and really cool.

I stayed up there for the rest of the weekend and spent most of it with Joe. Misty seemed to be supportive of this union and wasn’t jealous or weird, so when I came home Sunday night, we just started this slow-moving long distance relationship.

We decided a few weeks later that we should meet up again, this time we chose Philly. I’ve never been to South Philly and Joe‘s roommate was from there and they wanted to show me how to order a decent cheesesteak in on South Street. So I spent another weekend with these guys and I was just loving life. These weekend trips happened at least every other weekend for about two months, until finally I told my parents that I wanted them to meet him.

Fast forward to St. Patrick’s Day. I spent the weekend with Joe, and we were Irish af and drank a lot of green beer. The next morning we woke up and Joe’s mouth and teeth and hands were all stained by green food coloring. OMG We tried really hard to scrub it off before meeting with my parents that afternoon, who had driven up to go gambling in Atlantic City and we’re going to meet us halfway in Delaware. Joe and I tried as hard as we could to get that green off, but it was permanently stained on his mouth and hands. [LOL]

We took showers, got dressed, and got in the car, and every time I looked at him I could not stop laughing at all the green. Deep down, I knew that my parents would probably appreciate it, being proud Irish-American people. While I enjoyed watching him squirm, I assured him everything would be fine.

We met my parents for lunch and had a great time, and they thought his Irish pride was hysterical. I think they could see how happy we made each other. My parents asked Joe if he would be willing to move, my dad said that he had already spoken to his boss and he could get Joe a job with us at our company. Joe emphatically said yes! We ended lunch, said our goodbyes (but see you soon’s!) and went back to Jersey to tell Joe‘s roommate that he was going to be moving out. Dale had already prepared himself for that and told Joe “well you’re good, so whenever you’re ready...”

He was ready. So we packed him up and left that night. Moving this man to my hometown was so exciting and gratifying. After having been through the trauma of uprooting myself for someone who didn’t share my feelings, this relationship was healing that wound.

We lived with my parents at first, until we saved enough money. We got our own place, my first apartment, just south of Woodbridge, in Triangle. It wasn’t the best neighborhood and it definitely wasn’t the best apartment, but it was ours and we were proud of our place. We were poor. And I mean POOR. We bought loose cigarettes from the Getty gas station on Graham Park road because we couldn’t afford entire packs. We got pay day loans to pay the bills. We always had weed and beer, though because... priorities.

I really thought that this was the person I was going to spend the rest my life with. We were so well-suited for each other, and we talked about marriage all the time. Finally one day, Joe sat me down and said that he wanted to join the military. He thought long and hard about his future, and the only thing that he could see in it was me. He couldn’t see himself going to college, and he definitely couldn’t see himself learning a trade on his own. He thought the military would really get him where he needed in life.

Growing up with a father who’s a Vietnam vet, I have my own feelings about the military and war. And Joe’s decision came mere months after 911. The idea of Joe going to Iraq or Afghanistan terrified me, and supporting his decision was not the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. But, eventually he convinced me that the military would take care of us, and I would be able to finish school and figure out what I want to do with my life. My experience working with my dad had taught me that I really liked interior design. I loved working in people’s homes and making them their dreams a reality. So with eyes on the prize, we moved forward, and he started visiting recruiters from different branches.

He asked me if I would marry him. There was no ring, there was no fairytale proposal. He just asked me point blank: “if I join the military would you marry me, so you can go wherever I go?” That was more meaningful then any YouTube quality proposal I could ever get. (But in case my future boyfriend’s reading this, I expect you to make a big damn deal when you asked me to marry you.) I, of course, said yes, and we immediately went to my parents house to give them the good news. My mom and dad happily agreed that this was a great plan and they supported our marriage.

We started to talk about wedding dates, and Joe insisted that we needed to wait until he had his schedule set for MEPS and Basic training. In the next couple of weeks he was working closely with an Army recruiter. He had his MEPS center date selected, and had a vague idea of when he had to go to boot... and it was fast approaching. We knew that we need to plan a wedding in about five months so we immediately sent out invitations, and started looking for a venue and dress.

Over the next four months my mom and I planned a pretty elegant little wedding. My sister and Joe’s sister Vicky were my bridesmaids, and Joe’s two best friends were his groomsmen . We got married under this little gazebo in Occoquan, if you’re familiar with Mamie Davis Park. We walked two doors down to the Sea, Sea & Company restaurant (you probably know it now as Madigan‘s.) Their upstairs room was affordable, pretty, and would accommodate our entire party. It’s actually a pretty nice space and it laid out really well for the wedding.

While our wedding was small, it was joyful. All of our family was there and a few friends, because we decided to keep it small. Everyone danced, we ate great food and had a ton of alcohol. My sister had her first drink from the bar as an “adult” (she was 18, I had just turned 20 for those keeping up). She ordered a Roman Coke, and I heard her order it a few times before I finally asked her what are you ordering? I laughed so hard explaining to her the drink was called a “rum and Coke”. That was basically the feeling of the entire day thus far, fun and blissful.

But, everything went dark after that.

[dannyrobertsnovelist]

The Beginning of the End of the World----’Europhilia Eternal’

Ah yes, the ‘End of the World’. In the 1950s and 1960s, it was assumed to be nuclear war; now it is assumed to be ‘climate change’ or possibly a virus from Chinese bats. But----and probably unlike other story-writers----I tend to the view that war is likely to destroy us well before climate change does its job.

 And how does war come about? Through arrogance and presumption. The arrogance and presumption of men and women building empires. ‘1984’ wasn’t far off the mark: war will come as a battle between three empires by 2050: The Americas; The China-led (and Russian/Iranian supported) Asian Empire; and finally, and most importantly, The Most Glorious and Magnificent European Union of Perpetual Reason, Peace and Harmony (as it will style itself by 2030). And it will be the latter that provokes the war through its economic weakness and its ever-more-desperate attempts to crush its population into submission.

 My offering isn’t, however, set in 2050. It’s set now, because all End of the World scenarios have a seed, a ‘Beginning of the End of the World’. Let’s go to a near, if fictional, future, in which the UK had its ‘People’s Vote (2nd ref), and went for ‘Remain’ by 50.1% to 49.9%, and was welcomed back into the EU as a loyal, obedient and apologetic servant of Our Most Glorious Union……

 ‘EUROPHILIA ETERNAL!’

  ‘Our Parliament, Fergus,’ said the Pole, sniggering, ‘is the veritable cathedral of European Harmony and Reason, the embodiment of truth and goodness. Nothing else can compare to it.’

 The two Members of the European Parliament strolled into the Strasbourg building. Its splendour never ceased to impress them. Both of them raised their eyes to the ceiling, in wonder, but not in prayer. ‘In my opinion, Fergus,’ said Grzegorz to his Irish colleague from the European People’s Party, ‘our Parliament outshines all the world’s churches for magnificence; and quite right too!’

 Fergus laughed. ‘Yes, Greg,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure that, over time, Europhilia will replace Christianity as the people’s faith too, following today’s proceedings! Nobody will dare to challenge us again. We will be supreme, forever.’

 The two men turned to more immediate matters. ‘Moves to establish a coordinated European Army under the command of a general appointed by the Commission are progressing well, I understand,’ said Fergus to the Pole.

 ‘Yes,’ replied Greg in a confidential tone, ‘the UK and France continue to resist; but I don’t think it will last.’

 He continued:  ‘Both of those Regions claim to have a ‘glorious history’ when it comes to armed conflict; of Britain, this is doubtless true, but of France it is doubtless untrue; and when challenged on this, the French President threw a hissy fit. I was there when he did. It was very funny.’

 ‘Even funnier was to watch the Brits demand a right of ‘independent action’ to defend the Falklands from Argentina, or to defend Gibraltar from Spain. We said No, knowing that the Brits have no bullets left following their vote to Remain in their referendum. We expect them to cave. In the end, the Brits always do. Pathetic.’

 Fergus laughed again. ‘Indeed!’ he said, ‘their national submission to Our Magnificent Union has gone down well in Ireland. Many Irish love nothing better than to see Britain humiliated. Long may it continue!’

 ‘And,’ continued Greg, ‘a European Army will be our final guarantee of stability, a complete solution to the risk of Regions trying to split off. I dream of the day Romanian soldiers keep the peace on the streets of Paris! And Swedish police maintain order in Warsaw!’

 He warmed to his theme, eyes gleaming, arms waving about. ‘Maybe a regiment of former Somali refugees, installed as European policemen, and armed with water cannon, batons and tear gas, to be the anti-riot police in London? I long to see them suppressing nationalist demonstrators. Such diversity! Such mixing! Such true European togetherness and citizenship! The final victory of our multicultural project!’

 Arm-in-arm, the two happy MEPs strolled into the European Parliament together.

 Meanwhile, a tour guide was showing a group of Japanese tourists around the same building. She was a specialist in the language. None of the tourists could be in any doubt about their guide’s enthusiasm for the building, and for the Parliament for which it was one of two joint homes.

 ‘This is the largest multinational parliament in the world,’ she gushed, ‘and second only to India’s, among all parliaments; it’s got 751 members, all directly elected by more than 350 million voters from 28 countries. The next election is due in 2019, so not long to go.’

 ‘Why two buildings?’ said one of the tourists, ‘why meet in Brussels and Strasbourg? Bit expensive isn’t it? And disruptive.’

 The guide scowled momentarily, as if the tourist had loudly broken wind; but she recovered her composure, and replied, ‘It is a testament to the Glorious Principle itself that our Parliament meets in two separate countries, France and Belgium; cost is no object when it comes to furthering the aim of Ever Closer Union.’

 The tourist who had asked the question was, however, not to be admonished quite so easily.

 ‘Ever Closer Union? Is that what you mean by the Glorious Principle? But that’s the aim from which that English prime minister got an exemption, wasn’t it? You know, for the UK, so they voted to Remain in their referendum. So not everyone agrees with that principle. Calling it ‘glorious’ seems a bit strange.’

 The guide now looked very cross indeed. She knew though that it was her job to explain, to educate, not to get angry. So she calmed herself and responded.

 ‘The Parliament,’ she said, ‘is the supreme body of all Europe, it has complete power which supersedes all of these national bodies. That’s clear from the Lisbon Treaty. The Glorious Principle is at the heart of everything the Parliament does, and nobody---certainly not the heads of the member states meeting informally---can just agree to waive it.’

 ‘Besides,’ she said, sniggering ever-so-slightly, and speaking with an air of faux-confidentiality, ‘no-one cares a hoot about the UK Agreement.  Today’s proceedings will confirm that.’

 She raised her voice so that all the Japanese tourists could hear her.

 ‘Today, my friends,’ she said, ‘is an auspicious day for you to have come. I am so pleased for you that you are here for it. For today, supported by the Commission, the Parliament is to finalise a series of key decisions that will entrench permanently the Supremacy of the European Parliament over all legislatures and governments of the member states, and of the European Commission and Court of Justice over all national civil services and courts.’

 ‘Today we will confirm our historic mission to unify the People of Europe as One Nation, ending the divisiveness and enmity which has marked our history. From the Urals to the Atlantic, from Lapland to Malta, we shall be Bound Together. Forever.’

 ‘Please join me in the Visitors’ Gallery, from which you can watch these momentous and historic proceedings.’

 The gaggle of excited Japanese tourists followed their guide into the Visitors’ Gallery.

 They passed by one of the Members off to take his seat. It was no ordinary MEP. It was Antoine Dubois, head of the European People’s Party, the largest political grouping within the Parliament, Greg’s and Fergus’ big boss. He would be sitting right at the front of the hall, with his large grouping of EPP colleagues from various countries. He knew that today was momentous indeed; a day that would be remembered with joy unconfined by all True Believers in European Union, and would cause gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair among the Unbelievers.

 The inner cabal of the EU elite---known to the cognoscenti as The Committee for the Creation of a Single World Government--- would be meeting soon after this plenary session, under Dubois’ august chairmanship. At that meeting, they would joyously toast the outcome of the Parliament’s proceedings with fine wines and canapés. Eternal happiness would surely reign amongst all those who live under the benign rule of this Most Glorious Union; and for those failing to share such happiness, the Committee had its plans…...

 The atmosphere was tense as the President of the Parliament stood, and looked out at a packed Chamber. As expected, every MEP was there. Without exception.

 Everyone knew what was coming. Nevertheless, it must have startled them when the President declared:

 ‘Normal procedures are suspended. I call for a supporting vote by Members on this.’

 Every single Europhile MEP of Left and Right, from whatever country, stood and cheered. Attempts by Euro-sceptic parties to resist this declaration were shouted down.

 The President continued:

 ‘Noted. Members have assented to the suspension. I ask the President of the Commission to assent.’ The head of the European Commission immediately nodded.

 ‘Accordingly,’ continued the President of the Parliament, ‘I will shortly put to the vote Resolution 1. I will first read Resolution 1.’

 He seemed to stretch his back and neck, as he prepared himself for this. He knew that all Europe would be watching, via internet and television channels dedicated to the work of the Union.

 ‘This Parliament notes that it is the supreme legislative body for all of the European Union; that the European Union is the single unitary country which this Parliament represents; and that all other legislatures of The Regions of the Union (formerly theoretically independent states) are subordinate to this Parliament. This Parliament so resolves.’

 As the President read out this Resolution in French, those unfortunate MEPs not possessing an intimate knowledge of the language of Voltaire and Racine were forced to rely on the Parliament’s interpretation system. The interpreters of the Parliament were of the highest quality (thus justifying their enormous cost) and were able to reflect the sonorous tone of the President’s declaration.

 As with the resolution to suspend normal procedures, every Euro-obedient MEP in the Chamber rose and cheered. This meant that all MEPs from the European People’s Party rose and cheered, along with all the Socialists, Liberals and Greens, as well as assorted Leftists. The ‘Conservatives and Reformists Group’, sat glumly, silently, its British Tory MEPs humiliated by the turn of events, its Polish MEPs of the nationalist Law&Justice party furious but silent; their clenching of fists indicating that they wanted to ‘live to fight another day’.

 Only the two Euro-sceptic groups stood to shout the Resolution down; but its fate had been pre-ordained, and the outcome was inevitable.

 ‘The Resolution is carried!’ yelled the President, the cheering re-doubling.

 ‘We now move to Resolution 2!’ the President shouted, ‘I will read it!’

 ‘Noting and approving of Resolution 1, the Parliament now resolves to require an Oath of Complete and Total Allegiance to the European Union from every Member, it being inconsistent with membership of this Parliament for any person to espouse policies inconsistent with the Glorious Principle of Ever Closer Union. The text of the Oath is as follows: I swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to the European Union, noting that any allegiance to any Region of the Union is wholly subordinate to this Oath.’

 At this point, the Parliament went completely nuts. The Euro-obedient groups began cheering again, while the Euro-sceptic groups began singing loudly the national anthems of their home countries (or ‘Regions’, as the President had called them); but the effect of several national anthems being sung at once was to produce cacophony, which rather defeated the object.

 The British Conservatives seemed to shrink into their seats, hoping that things could not get worse. Things could, however, get worse, and they promptly did.

 The President declared Resolution 2 passed; he then moved on to the third and final Resolution.

 ‘This Parliament notes the Agreement reached by all 28 heads of government on February 19th 2016 purportedly granting special status to one particular Region, namely that Region historically named The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. This Parliament notes that this Agreement is without effect unless a treaty implementing this Agreement is passed, and unless this Parliament approves the Agreement; and so this Parliament resolves to dis-approve of this Agreement, on the grounds that it is wholly inconsistent with Resolution 1 passed today for any Region to be permitted to have a status inconsistent with the Glorious Principle of Ever Closer Union.’

 If it had been possible for the roof of this magnificent building to be raised, the cheering and delight that greeted this third Resolution would have done it. French and German Europhile MEPs were in particularly buoyant mood at this Resolution, turning on the British Conservatives and jeering at them. The Conservatives waited for the ground to swallow them up, but the ground did not grant this favour.

 One of the most Europhile of the British Socialists rushed over to the Conservatives group. He had been drinking a lot of premium quality Belgian beer. He had become addicted to this beverage since his 2014 election to the Parliament, abandoning the weaker English bitter he had habitually drunk in his home town, a former coalmining region now notable only for its food banks, betting shops and a plethora of temporary jobs on zero hours contracts.

 However, none of this could be an excuse for the most un-Parliamentary language the young man then used towards the other honourable members:

 ‘You’re so screwed!! We’ve won!! You’ve lost!!’ he yelled at his Conservative fellow-countrymen, his face red, his suit crumpled, his breath smelling of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke from his favoured unfiltered Gauloises Brunes. He turned round and began to remove his trousers, evidently intending to display his buttocks for the edification of the Tories. He was dragged off by a smiling colleague, before he could complete this process.

 Almost simultaneously, the youngest member of the British Euro-sceptic group also ran over. He too had been drinking alcohol, albeit not with the Socialist, and his message to the British Conservatives was in similar tone, although its meaning was quite different.

 ‘You scum! You’ve totally legged over the whole nation! Damn you!’

 He too was dragged off, by a colleague who had not been drinking, and who wasn’t smiling.

 At this point, ninety officers of the newly appointed Euro-Gendarmerie entered the building, to the sounds of ‘Ode to Joy’, the Euro-anthem, being sung loudly by loyal Euro-obedient MEPs. The Gendarmes were dressed superbly, in a manner that would have befitted Napoleon Bonaparte’s personal bodyguard. With the powers of arrest now available to them, they marched purposely forward and seized hold of certain known dissidents, MEPs who had historically caused trouble.

 ‘You, citizen, are under arrest for insulting revered members of the European Commission!’ snarled a Turkish officer from the Gendarmerie at the most senior British Euro-sceptic present. The Turk grabbed the MEP by his collar, ruining the knot of his silk tie in the process. The duly elected Member of the Parliament for the Sub-Region of Surrey was then dragged out of the building by the Euro-Gendarmerie.

 He was not the only one. The Gendarmerie took other MEPs out by the collar too, and some were even handcuffed. Others were threatened with the taser in order to persuade them to come along quietly.

 All of the arrested MEPs were curiously unable to appreciate the legitimacy of their detention. ‘What crime have I committed?’ shouted a Hungarian. ‘Do you know who I am?’ screamed a French lady who had stood for the French presidency unsuccessfully. Both were told that their offences were ‘Sedition and Regionalism’. The arresting officer patiently explained that ‘Regionalism’ referred to the offence of ‘Publicly asserting that a Region of the Union was somehow to be regarded as an Independent Sovereign State’.

 ‘Such an assertion,’ explained the officer, as he dragged the Hungarian out of the Chamber, ‘is self-evidently treason to Our Most Glorious Union. It is also evidence of insanity, as such an assertion is clearly contrary to the factual position.’

 He laughed in the Hungarian’s face. ‘So although the offence normally carries a five-year prison term, you can cop a plea of being a nutter, and spend a few months in a secure hospital for the criminally insane.’

 He waved his arms at the other arrested Members. ‘Lots of you traitors will probably end up in the loony bin. You should be good company for each other, as you learn the errors of your anti-European ways, and get re-educated.’

 Some of the other arrested MEPs were accused of the same stock offence. Others though were advised that they were charged with different crimes, ranging from ‘Questioning the Legitimacy of the Supremacy of the European Union’ to ‘Writing Poems Not Totally Respectful of the European President’.

 Greg, Fergus and the tour guide watched all this with enthusiasm, from their separate vantage points and cheered along with everyone else, as the arrests were made. The British Socialist MEP who had earlier vented spleen at the Conservative group saw an opportunity for a bit of self-serving publicity.  

 He rushed over to the arrested MEP for Surrey, who was being removed by the Turkish Gendarme. The Socialist knew the Euro-sceptic well and hated him with venom. But now there was an opportunity to lance the boil of that venom, and achieve catharsis. Recalling certain events in Paris on July 28th 1794, the Socialist walked straight up to the arrested man, and screamed right in his face, ‘You monster, spewed up from hell. The thought of your punishment intoxicates me with joy!’

 Even though he shouted this in French, the (soon to be former) MEP from Surrey understood those words, and knew they were originally yelled at Maximilien Robespierre by an unknown woman as he was taken, by tumbrel, to his execution at the guillotine.

 Having delivered himself of this message, the Socialist noted that the TV camera had captured his moment in the limelight, and then returned to his seat, punching the air with all the delight of a footballer celebrating a particularly significant goal.

 The head of the Parliament called for order, and then made his closing declaration:

 ‘Let Joy be Unconfined for all the Peoples of Our Glorious Union! Tear down these national flags, burn them. Let there be just One Flag, to which all shall pay respect!’

 As he spoke, as if on a pre-arranged cue, the national flags of the twenty-eight member states were lowered by several Gendarmes, those who were not engaged in the business of removing traitors. Each flag was, in turn, placed in a huge steel cauldron, which the Gendarmerie had brought in. It was painted blue, adorned with twenty-eight little gold stars. It was evident that someone had painted the European Union flag onto this outsized dish.

 The first few flags of the old nations were carefully and respectfully folded by the Gendarmes as they were put into the cauldron. It became clear, however, that this show of respect and care was taking up too much time.

 ‘Get on with it, citizen!’ snapped the President of the Parliament to the Captain of the Gendarmes. ‘We don’t have all day.’

 The Captain signalled the need for haste to his colleagues, who changed their approach immediately. The remaining flags were ripped down and torn in the process. They were then shoved unceremoniously into the cauldron.

 ‘Look over there,’ said Fergus to Greg, as they smiled and applauded.

 Greg looked across and saw that another troop of the Euro-Gendarmerie had lined up on both sides of the path that led from the entrance to the Chamber to the central point occupied by the Leadership Group----as the presidents of the Parliament and of the Commission would hereafter be known across the lucky lands of the Union----and where the Euro-Cauldron had been placed.

 ‘What’s going to happen next?’ shouted Greg into Fergus’ ear. He had to shout, as the noise in the Chamber of the (many) happy cheering Europhiles and of the (few remaining) screaming defeated nationalists required a shout, even at close proximity.

 Fergus grinned and pointed.

 At the entrance there appeared a man of about forty. He was tall, handsome, clean-shaven, his dark hair beautifully coiffed above his twinkling blue eyes. He was a well-known figure in his home country. Indeed, he was the president of that country, recently elected with a large majority. He was an ardent Europhile, from a medium sized member state most of whose citizens had steadfastly refused to blame the Union’s policies in any way for the dreadful state of its economy. They preferred to blame such standard totems as ‘big business’, tax avoiders, ‘speculators’, ‘climate change’, cheap Chinese imports and the American president.

 Exactly as the Union’s propaganda branch would wish it, thought Greg, admiringly.

 The blue-eyed national president was dressed in athlete’s kit. He sported running shoes. These were topped off by a tightly fitting blue lycra one-piece, decorated with the twenty-eight gold stars of the EU Regions. The one-piece hugged his body closely, accentuating his musculature and the bulge of his loins. He carried in his right hand an object which was on fire. It was identical in shape, size and function to an Olympic torch.

 Waving to the adoring Europhile MEPs, the athlete ran down the corridor of Gendarmes created for him, smiling for the cameras. When he reached the cauldron, he stopped. He held his arm aloft. He did not move.

 The Parliament went silent.

 ‘Good day,’ said the athlete, ‘honoured citizens of the European Union. I greet you, on this awesome occasion, as a fellow citizen, and as a president of one of our Union’s Regions. We are united in friendship, comrades together. Everybody. Irrespective of language. Irrespective of the history of your Region. Irrespective of any enmity or rivalry that may have existed hitherto. Irrespective of religion. Irrespective of race or colour. And irrespective of whether you were born within the Union’s boundaries or not. For all are equal in our eyes as European Citizens. As long as you are loyal to the flag of the Union, nothing else matters!’

 Everyone would have cheered at this undoubted verity, but the athlete had not finished speaking. Still holding up his strong right arm which grasped the torch, he continued:

 ‘On a plaque at the entrance to this building, there are written the wisest words ever spoken,’ he declared. ‘They are the words of Philip Kerr of the area we now know as the North-West Region formerly called Scotland.’

 ‘Who was Kerr?’ asked Greg of Fergus. ‘He was the Marquess of Lothian,’ replied the Irishman. ‘A Scottish nobleman. He tried to persuade Churchill to make peace with Germany in 1940. He failed, but what a hero in the cause of European unity. He would be proud of what we are doing today.’

 The athlete was still speaking. ‘Those words of Kerr reverberate today. I will remind you of them.’ The athlete stopped and spoke the words that appeared on that famous plaque:

 ‘National sovereignty is the root cause of the most crying evils of our times….The only final remedy for this evil is the federal union of the peoples’

 A murmur of approval of this sentiment could be heard in every corner of the Chamber.

 (Naturally, as any MEP who might have disagreed with Kerr had already been ejected.)

 ‘Today,’ said the athlete, ‘marks the moment we finally extinguish the crying evil identified by Kerr, back in 1939. Join me, my friends, in this most joyful act.’

 The athlete theatrically lifted the torch a little higher, stretching his lycra-covered arm to its maximum. At the same moment, the president of the European Commission ran forward. He held a plastic jerry can in his right hand. The can was blue and decorated with the twenty-eight gold stars. He then opened the can and poured the contents into the cauldron.

 It was petrol. The president of the Commission nodded to the athlete, and hastily withdrew. The athlete then lowered the torch to the cauldron.

 The contents of the cauldron, namely twenty-eight national flags soaked in petrol, immediately caught fire.

 The flags burned merrily. Everyone cheered. Loudly.

 At the same moment, an enormous flag was undraped from the roof of the building. The flag was twenty feet in length and twenty feet in width, far larger than the individual national flags now feeding the fire in the cauldron. It was, of course, the flag of that newly declared single political entity, The European Union.

 But it was slightly different in appearance. The twenty-eight stars were gone. In their place was one enormous gold star.

 The single glorious star of the European Union.

 ‘One Star is all that’s needed,’ whispered Fergus to Greg. ‘Yes,’ replied the European Citizen from the Region Formerly Known as Poland, ‘One Star to rule over twenty-eight little Regions. To mis-quote that Little Englander, Tolkien, One Star to rule them all, and in Our Victory, Bind Them!’

 ‘Ode to Joy’ burst from the Parliament’s sound system. Louder than it ever had been heard before. The words rang out, sung in their original German, by Berlin’s finest choir.

 Fergus and Greg stood with every other person in the Parliament. They sang the song with gusto. Each person’s right arm was stretched across his or her chest, the fist placed right by the left shoulder.

 And all across Europe, the serried ranks of the populus, Euro-citizens all, joined in with both song and salute. Whatever they had been doing, they stopped, to do their duty. No, not their duty, their pleasure, their joy. Tears rolled down every cheek as every European citizen’s voice rose, the choral section of Beethoven’s Ninth sung in every Regional language, as the birth of The European Union of Perpetual Reason, Peace and Harmony was celebrated.  

 They knew. They understood at last. They loved Mother Europe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At London’s City Airport, a private jet was taxi-ing on the runway. The jet had but one passenger. He was the British member of The Committee for the Creation of a Single World Government, and a very well-known former politician. As prime minister of his native land, he had been credited with the remarkable feat of persuading a former American president to abandon plans for the invasion of Iraq a decade or so previously. Consequently, the Press had dubbed him ‘Tony The Peacemaker’. From then on, all journalists adored him.

 As did everyone else. An ardent Europhile, it was his intervention in the referendum debate that had swung it for Remain. His passionate argument that the UK could be ‘in Europe, but not absorbed by Europe’ had turned a likely four point win for Leave into a tiny win for Remain.

 He had watched the proceedings at the European Parliament on his iPad. He knew that the game was up for him, his duty done to the Europe he loved, but his reputation in the UK likely to be trashed. Many would call for his head.

  ‘Okay,’ he thought, ‘Time to scarper.’ He was relieved to be getting out. ‘Panama,’ he had decided, ‘that’s the place for me. And for Bonny and the kids. Loads of cash at bank, and the world is our oyster.’

 He leaned back in his leather seat, and lifted to his lips a glass of vintage champagne.

 He grinned to himself. ‘Job done, though,’ he muttered, ‘Job very well done.’

 And as he drank the Veuve Cliquot, the ‘plane took off.  As it ascended, night fell over the European Union Region Formerly Known as England.

 THE END

[mocktheright]

Humiliated Tommy Robinson demands second vote - Humiliated Tommy Robinson demands second vote after losing his £5,000 deposit in European election failure A humiliated Tommy Robinson declared he “wants a second vote” in a bizarre video posted from his bed after he failed to secure a seat in the European Parliament. In the clip, which is believed to have been posted on the Telegram private messaging app, the independent MEP candidate described himself as “dead to the world”. He said: “I don’t accept the result of the election. I want a second vote.” He went on to claim “people had been lied to” before saying “I want to do it again”. The independent candidate polled just 2.2 per cent of the overall vote in the North West, finishing in eight place overall, as the Brexit Party gained the largest share with 31.2 per cent. He lost his £5,000 deposit and left the count after less than one hour. Robinson, whose real name is Stephen Yaxley Lennon, earlier blamed Government "interference", saying he was unable to fight a fair campaign because he was taken off various social media platforms. Speaking on arrival at the count in Manchester, he said: "Trump won his campaign on social media. Brexit was won on social media. I'm banned from social media "So my ability to fight a fair campaign is gone, orchestrated and organised by the Government. "I feel like I have been fighting with my hands tied behind my back. "I think on my Facebook (page) 59 million watched my videos in four weeks ... if I still had that ability now I would have walked this election. "This has proved you cannot have a fair campaign when the establishment and the Government interfere and remove any ability you have to talk to the public. "My supporters are not even allowed to mention my name or they get deleted, it's dark." The founder of the English Defence League added: "I am just happy if I got non-voters to vote. I'm happy if I politicised people from working class communities. "I think this whole election is about Brexit so Nigel Farage can absolutely smash it but I would be excited about that if the Brexit Party would talk about the issues that I feel affect most of us in working class communities. They are just another politically correct party unfortunately but they are great on the European Union." Robinson stayed for just short of an hour at the count venue at Manchester Central as he conceded defeat before the first council area result was officially declared. Before leaving, he told his followers on Telegram: "Disappointed to say the least. They (the votes) are not in but they are in... at the same time what do you expect? Going through the votes we have certainly not got a place as a MEP but I want to say a special thank you to every single person who supported." The Brexit Party won three seats, Labour and the Lib Dems claimed two each and the Green Party secured one seat in the region. It came as YouTuber Carl Benjamin, who was second on Ukip’s South West regional list, also failed to get elected. Mr Benjamin was condemned during the campaign for comments he made about Labour MP Jess Phillips. The 39-year-old, who styles himself online as the "Sargon of Akkad", said he "wouldn't even rape" the Labour MP and then refused to apologise for the remarks. -- from Mock the Right on Facebook - bit.ly/2TKLJMe

[cryptokingrobiul]

Top 20 Broker

New Post has been published on http://www.top20broker.com/news/angela-merkel-rejects-one-theresa-mays-key-brexit-demands/

Angela Merkel rejects one of Theresa May's key Brexit demands

Angela Merkel has rejected one of Theresa May’s key Brexit demands, insisting negotiations on Britain’s exit from the European Union cannot run in parallel with talks on the future UK-EU relationship.

“The negotiations must first clarify how we will disentangle our interlinked relationship,” the German chancellor said in Berlin. “Only when this question is dealt with can we – hopefully soon after – begin talking about our future relationship.”

In her six-page letter triggering article 50 and formally launching the process of leaving the EU, the prime minister said she believed it was “necessary to agree the terms of our future partnership alongside those of our withdrawal from the European Union”.

The EU institutions and 27 remaining member states, however, have long said they were determined the divorce settlement, such as the rights of EU citizens in the UK and Britons on the continent and the size of Britain’s exit bill, must first be agreed before substantive talks on a future relationship could begin.

On a day of some drama in Brussels, Donald Tusk, the president of the European council, warned after receiving May’s letter that there would be “no winners” from Brexit, and the next two years would be a matter of “damage control”.

Wearing a black tie and appearing at times visibly moved, the former Polish prime minister spoke to reporters just half an hour after receiving the prime minister’s letter from the UK’s ambassador to the EU, Sir Tim Barrow.

Holding the letter up for the benefit of the cameras, Tusk said: “So here it is, six pages. The notification from prime minister Theresa May triggering article 50 and formally starting the negotiations of the United Kingdom’s withdrawal from the European Union.

“There is no need to pretend that this is a happy day, neither in Brussels nor in London. After all most Europeans, including almost half the British voters, wish that we would stay together, not drift apart.”

Tusk said the EU27 were “united and determined” and that the council and the European commission had a strong mandate to protect the EU’s interests. But he added: “As for me, I will not pretend I am happy.”

The EU’s goal, he said, was to minimise the costs of Brexit for the EU’s citizens, businesses and member states. “We will do everything in our power and we have all the tools to achieve this. As for now, nothing has changed. Until the UK leaves the European Union, EU law will continue to apply to and within the UK.”

Tusk said he would share a proposed formal response from the council to the UK with the other member states on Friday and that agreement on so-called “guidelines” would be reached at a special summit in a month’s time. “What can I add to this?” Tusk said. “We already miss you. Thank you and goodbye.”

Elsewhere, however, sadness gave way to a determination to protect the EU’s interests in the coming talks. The French president, François Hollande, said on a visit to Indonesia that Brexit “will be painful for the British”.

The frontrunner in the race to succeed him, the centrist Emmanuel Macron, said the overriding priority must be to defend the EU. “The question is not to punish the UK for a vote made by British people,” Macron said.

“My deep wish is to have Britain with the EU in another relationship … [But] my priority will be to protect the European Union, the interests of the European Union, and the interests of European citizens.”

Italy’s prime minister, Paolo Gentiloni, said his country’s priorities would be “confidence in the future of the EU and its unity, and the defence of our national interests, both at an economic level and in regards to the rights of our citizens in Britain”.

Belgium’s prime minister, Charles Michel, said his country shared some of the closest economic ties with the UK, but a trade agreement had to find the right balance between rights and obligations. “Commitments from the past must be honoured.”

Joseph Muscat, the prime minister of Malta, which holds the rotating six-month EU presidency, said negotiations must be fair, transparent and honest, but added: “It is imperative that EU membership emerges as the superior option. The EU will not be 27 different opinions on Brexit but one common vision.”

Jean-Claude Juncker, president of the European commission, said the UK’s decision to quit the bloc was a “choice they will regret one day”. He also left the door open for an “associative” citizenship of the EU for Britons, an idea proposed by the European parliament’s Brexit coordinator, Guy Verhofstadt. Juncker said: “It’s not my working assumption that this will happen, but I know mainly the chief negotiator of the European parliament is asking for this. It would not disturb me if this happened. But this cannot be the answer. It doesn’t take away from Brexit all the dangers and problems. It would be an answer for citizens.”

A European parliament resolution scoping out what will be acceptable to MEPs, who will have the right to veto any future deal, contains a series of demands that appear to scupper the British government’s hopes for the coming talks.

The document, leaked to the Guardian, vowed that Britain would not be given a free trade deal by the EU in the next two years and said a transition arrangement to cushion the UK’s exit after 2019 could last no longer than three years.

British cabinet ministers have repeatedly insisted that a comprehensive free trade deal could be struck within the two years of talks allowed under the Treaty of Rome.

The document further suggested the UK would not only be under the jurisdiction of the European court of justice during any transition period but that its treatment of EU citizens forever into the future would be a matter for its judges.

In her letter, May had insisted that leaving the EU would mean leaving the jurisdiction of the court in Luxembourg. However, Verhofstadt denied that this would be possible.

“The withdrawal agreement will be an act of union law,” Verhofstadt told a press conference in Brussels. “An act of union law is naturally controlled by the European court of justice. It is as simple as that. The withdrawal agreement will be nothing outside the treaties. So automatically the court of justice is competent.”

Manfred Weber, the chair of the largest party grouping in the European parliament, warned Britain that the consequences of Brexit would impact on its citizens daily lives, and that the EU would be “tough” on the UK.

“We have developed in the last decades thousands of detailed regulations which had the idea of limiting the impact of borders in our daily lives, in the daily life of citizens, to make our life more comfortable, easier, more safe,” Weber said.

“That was the idea of all these regulations, and the British people decided to leave this union, so they will not be so comfortable, so safe, not so economically strong. That’s why we will say that it really is a very negative day.”

Denmark’s prime minister, Lars Løkke Rasmussen, said Britain’s farewell to the EU was “incredibly sad”, but added he expected “many bumps on the road” following a decision that “will have consequences … Rights and responsibilities go hand in hand in the EU. You cannot have one without the other.”

The Spanish prime minister, Mariano Rajoy, said Spain’s priority was to “minimise uncertainty in relation to investment in place between Spain and the UK”, while Sweden’s Stefan Löfven said he wanted “organised, results-oriented negotiations” because good relations with London “are important for Britain, Europe and Sweden”.

source

[guerrillathoughts]

Guerrilla Book of the Week - Book 3 - My Life at the Limit, Reinhold Messner

The third week of the year has drawn to a close; it is hard to believe that the first month is nearly gone. This week I took to reading “My Life at the Limit” by Reinhold Messner. This is another autobiography of sorts; It is a long interview with the man himself about his life in chronological order. 

Reinhold Messner was born in the 1940’s and went on to become one the most famous mountaineers in the game. The quote from Time magazine states that “Messner is not only the greatest high-altitude mountaineer the world has ever known; he is probably the best it will ever know” Messner made the first accent of Everest without supplemental Oxygen, which was thought to be impossible, and then became the first climber to summit Everest solo. He was the first climber to climb all fourteen of the eight thousanders - Every mountain over eight thousand metres, and on top of that he did not use supplemental oxygen on any of them. His back catalogue of first ascents and time records is incredible; Despite the tragedy of losing family and friends on the mountains he kept climbing. He is himself an author, writing about Alpinism; He is a former MEP; He crossed deserts and climbed mountains; He has designed gear, such as boots, and has basically changed the game. The man believes in the Yeti and claims to have seen one in Tibet, lives in a castle and basically he seems, as the Telegraph once claimed, the greatest man on earth. He is not without his controversy but that is addressed in the book and my aim here is not to comment on all of that, but merely to reflect upon his book. These are not meant to be book reviews; to be honest I found this book to be a real slow starter, but I was able to find some real gems of information in there. The first of which describes his views on education. I have been educated to post-graduate level. I am a qualified designer and teacher and I have various qualifications in youth work. I am not against formal education - However I do feel that formal education is only one half of a full education. Messner says “During my last few years of school, I came to realise that my path to knowledge would not lead me to libraries, professors, universities, and studies. My path to knowledge was through living life and experiencing reality. I could learn plenty second hand, but nothing was ever to surpass the experiences I had in the wilderness.” Where as I do not feel that formal education should be rejected completely, I accept that it is not the be all and end all and that academia is not the path for everyone. I love libraries and I love learning. Messner is not saying here that libraries have no value; just that they are not the only place one can learn and also that he can learn more in the wilds. I agree that a lot of my learning has been done on my travels, hikes and climbs. Combined with my post-graduate education I have formed a rounded view of the world and developed my opinions on topics that I could easily glide through life without even thinking about - but not live a full life without.

Messner talking about experiences does scare me as I consider all the experiences I have let slip through my fingers. He talks about his father’s support for his climbing, despite how dangerous it was. He reflects that his father “All his life he stood with his back to the wall and never climbed it”. I am determined that upon my dying breath I will be confidently able to say that I climbed the wall. Quite often it is easier to let opportunities escape through fear of how they will play out, as last weeks book reflected. Messner goes on to say that “Killing time gives me the horrors.” I have to admit that I understand this. As I have mentioned in previous posts, I decided this year that I would no longer lie in on my days off. I will no longer wait until the afternoon to get out of my bed. Just this week I was up at 7am on Saturday morning, and went for run along the coast. I caught the most beautiful sunrise, my first for the year. Messner discusses at this stage that he does “…things with a passion, or not at all.” As the questioning turned to the dangers of the life he chooses to live, he discusses how he needs to live this way. When accusations of lunacy and careless selfishness are brought up Messner merely brushes this off saying “The symptoms of my disorder is defined by a lust for life”.

I have written about this before on this blog. I know that sometimes when I set out at 5am on an icy winters day, to drive and climb, that it seems reckless and that I don’t value my life. But it simply is not true, it is actually the opposite that is true. It is my desire for life that makes me do these things. Messner has lost people to the mountains, including his own brother on his first trip to the Himalayas. He has been close to death himself - It is being this close to death that makes him feel fully alive. He says “It is through resisting death that we humans experience what it is to be human.” I do not know that I whole heartedly agree that one must be close to death to feel truly alive, but I know that danger does fill us with adrenaline. Working in the office does not. The conversation develops, and an accusation is brought up that in a dangerous situation Messner broke the rules. “What do you mean by rules? Who makes the rules”. This sentence jumped out at me as I agree with it in so many ways. In this case Messner was asking who has the right to make the rule of how to climb a mountain, especially since he fundamentally disagreed with their rules. I think we need to apply this to life. Who makes the rules? Who said that you have to work 9 to 5, have weekends off, holiday in summer, pay off your mortgage by sixty and then slowly fade into a grave? And yet for so many people in this world, that is the reality. It is those that reject the working world that are deemed to be insane and not those that turn the wheels of the big machine. Messner says some great things about the planet we live on. He was an environmental Member of the European Parliament - for the Green Party. He loves the planet, because it provides him with the extremes that he loves. He is questioned about these extremes and how he allows himself to duel with nature and he refutes this stating “…not like a duel, I expose myself to nature; I don’t set myself against it or anyone else. I am prepared to step out… into a nonhuman world.” He speaks about how he does not belong in nature and how he goes out to the wilds to allow himself to learn and grow within nature. It is not a duel, it is a coexistence.

I amn’t in complete agreement here. I feel that humans are very much part of nature, but I love the sentiment that it is not a duel. I would be more in line with John Muir’s way of seeing the world, that humans are merely out of touch with nature, not separate from it.

Messner climbed his eight thousanders. He did it without oxygen. But he wasn’t finished. Now the deserts called him.

“I kept being drawn to the outer limits of civilisation, where once more I had to learn to see the invisible, to cope with the remoteness and the exposure” Although I have never crossed the Gobi desert, or submitted Everest, I have that same call. Whenever I see a dirt path, or trail disappear off into a forest, despite my current plans, I have to follow that path. When I walk along a beach, I am drawn along that beach. I always feel drawn to keep going, to find the end of that beach; or the top of the mountain. Messner talks about the indigenous aboriginal peoples of the world and likens them to Mother Nature - Yes these people provided him guidance, but “So, too, did the artic night, the fog, the open waters of the Artic Ocean”. So far as we learn to see the invisible and realign with nature we can learn to understand it. As a photographer I have learned to predict the quality of sky that I will see at sunset, judging from the light throughout the day. But we can go so much deeper and learn to read nature like we read a book.

Messner also reflects upon a similar conclusion that Christopher McCandless also made; that true happiness comes from experiences with other people. Messner does not say as definitively as McCandless that you need other people to enjoy life, but he does talk about the positive impacts they make. He talks about his first failure at a solo climb, claiming that he couldn’t face it alone. Physically he could do it, emotionally he could not. He states that he “…was lost at the mercy of my own loneliness”. He discusses that “It isn’t the summit that is important; it is the shared experience”.

The final point I would like to pull out of this book is this: “Failure itself is not important. It’s what happens immediately after that counts - the inner feelings, the the turmoil and self doubt - and how you deal with it”.

Messner is basically saying that the way we deal with failure is what determines wether it is good or bad. For example if we allow ourselves to be beaten, then failure is a bad thing, but if we allow it to push us further, and develop it into further motivation then “Failure is a more powerful experience that success”. This book is a wealth of wisdom - Everything I have mentioned is captured within the first two chapters.