Pond Scum: Normalising the Unthinkable
By Steve Finbow
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Missed me? Yeah, right. I’ve missed you. I have. Honest. So, what’s been happening in the world since my last column? Disaster. Catastrophe. Suffering. And that’s just Chelsea beating Liverpool 4-1. But, seriously, George W. Bush came up with the theory that a large group of terrorists, holed up on the Azores, eating thousands of tins of baked beans, breaking wind in the general direction of the Atlantic, warming the seas and creating wind patterns, propelled hurricane Katrina toward the continental United States of America. Not really, but you wouldn’t put it past him. Al-Qaida have become the injuns, dagoes, krauts, reds, or gooks of the 21st century – there’s a fez under your beds – they have become unpeople but unpeople whom, apparently, cause mayhem for Americans around the world.
By Nicholas Allanach
A brick falls off a wall in Uzbekistan, a tourist from Poughkeepsie trips over it and sprains his ankle, the headline reads: Al-Qaida Mortar Injures American Man. A woman from Mobile slips on a banana skin by a pool in Cape Town, the headline reads: Al-Qaida Operatives Spread Chaos in Beach Resort. Apparently, Abu Masub al-Zarquawi – Al-Qaida’s commander in Iraq – has been asked by his superiors to murder people in a less brutal way. How? Tickle them with a fatwa? Use a Disney replica sword as flourished by Aladdin to behead people? How about sprinkling some confetti in the plastic explosives to make it look pretty when the bombs go off? Going back to bananas – did you know bananas were banned in Britain for five years during World War II? The orange was the UK government’s fruit of choice. This leads me nicely on to a new law in Florida. An advertisement in The Guardian urged tourists to use caution when arguing with Floridian motorists because of the shoot-first law – I think it would go something like this:
“I say, old chap, dreadfully sorry about pranging your jalopie. Why don’t we exchange insurance details and I’ll be on my jolly way, what-ho?”
BANG!
Britain has finally outlawed fox hunting and other so-called blood sports but I can see a new urban game sport becoming popular – squirrel wrestling. That’s right. Apparently, squirrels in Brixton, London, have been digging up stashes of crack buried on Brixton Hill and have become addicted to the stuff. There have been reports of red-eyed squirrels, mad for a fix, attacking people. But that is not as strange as the reports of homosexual necrophilia in ducks – the word “mallard” takes on a completely new meaning methinks. I have just discovered the only other record of necrophilia among animals was with squirrels… When I get back to London, I’m off to Brixton with a glass pipe and a camera. Two things more dangerous than crack-addicted, homosexual, necrophiliac squirrels: Scientists have recreated the Spanish flu virus – or la Grippe – which killed 50 million people between 1918-1919; this pandemic resulted in more deaths in one year than in the four years of the Bubonic Plague – or Black Death – 1347-1351. And talking of mass slaughter, who said this about whom?
"We're facing a radical ideology with unalterable objectives: to enslave whole nations and intimidate the world."
No, not Noam Chomsky or Harold Pinter on the United States of America but George W Bush on his god-given right to invade Afghanistan and Iraq.
Let’s look to the future. What subjects will I tackle in Pond Scum’s second year? I’d like to take a look at the state of American art. The changing cityscape, mores, and morals of New York City. Why Americans don’t like the semi-colon; apparently. I will probably delve into the obsession – on both sides of the pond – with celebrity, or paracelebrity and metacelebrity. I will also do some quasi-reviews of books, records, and stuff – whatever catches my eye. Speaking of which, here are some recommendations from my reading over the last few weeks: J.M. Coetzee’s Slow Man, Rafael Reig’s Blood on the Saddle; Juan Goytisolo’s Blind Rider; Paul Auster’s The Brooklyn Follies (back on form); Joe R. Lansdale’s The Bottoms; I re-read Marabou Stork Nightmare by Irvine Welsh – didn’t like it the first time, but enjoyed it hugely on second reading; and Bret Easton Ellis’s Lunar Park – brilliant, moving, funny, and terrifying. But the most impressive thing I’ve read recently is Martha Gellhorn’s Dachau. I’ve also been listening to a lot of David Bowie, and am sitting writing this wearing midnight-blue crushed-velvet flares, red platform boots, a shiny silver T-shirt, and a gold satin suit jacket. My hair is dyed bright orange and stands out from my head as if I were a frightened dog, and painted across my face is a silver, white and blue bolt of lightning. Really, I’m sitting in my black Gap jockeys and scratching myself – but check out Bowie’s albums from Space Oddity to Scary Monsters – the guy’s a genius – and a Londoner, I might add.
Oh, an idea – if there are any subjects you’d like me to cover, drop me a line and I will be more than pleased to tackle them.
Grace has been on for two nights now. Tonight, Thursday 13th October, is press night, therefore, I’m slightly nervous – sphincter tight and hands a-tremble. It’s been a great experience and I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Richard, Leo, Alex, Chanje, Yusra, Kiruna, Darren, Maurice, Verity, Sonia, Simon, Mike, Nick, Colin, Catherine, and, not least, Charlotte, for making my time working in Manchester a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. Also, check out this band The Permissive Society – they’re very very good.
And here is the best joke I’ve heard since my last column:
George W. is in the Oval Office. Donald Rumsfeld enters and says:
"I have to tell you, Mr. President, that yesterday three Brazilian soldiers were killed."
To his surprise Bush groans and buries his head in his hands, saying repeatedly, "That is just terrible, terrible, news."Remind me again, just how many is a brazillion?"
Click here to read previous Pond Scum columns.
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Steve Finbow writes out of London, England. He has worked for the poet Allen Ginsberg, the writer Victor Bockris, and the artist Richard Long. His fiction, essays, and short plays appear, or will appear, in Eyeshot, 3am Magazine, Yankee Pot Roast, uber, Locus Novus, InkPot, Dicey Brown, The Guardian Online, and Pindeldyboz. He is currently working on a novel (Yeah, right). He can be contacted here.
© 2005 Me Three
