However, having watched 16 hours of live images from Cairo via Al Jazeera yesterday, I have come to understand some things.

One is the distinction between Egyptian protestors, undercover police, police, and army.

Today’s 150,000-circulation daily El Periódico de Catalunya led with a photo of an army vehicle rolling through the streets of Cairo with the caption “protestors confront Egyptian army on the streets of Cairo”.

Whilst it’s hard to identify undercover police because they look very much like protestors, there’s no difficulty differentiating the police from the army. Running battles did take place between protestors and police, but the people always viewed the army as potential allies.

The caption on El Periódico de Catalunya is patently incorrect. In the photo, the people are not confronting the army, they are cheering, they have arms raised in celebration, and at the moment the photo was taken, they are full of hope that the army will side with them, not against them.

This story is potentially as significant as the fall of the Berlin wall.

If the media gets this wrong, how much else do they get wrong?

Beware Media Inaccuracies is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

The Kingsbury Manx’s tune, “Pagaent Square”.

Back in May 2006, when I first recommended this tune, I said this: “So sweet it can draw tears.”

Video on YouTube:

* IRMA forced me to remove tunes from my blog in May 2007. These tunes, 29 of them, in mp3 format, were music recommendations to visitors and friends alike. I have a long memory. They said: “Should this matter not be resolved to our satisfaction, further steps will be taken.” This is my attempt to claw-back some pride. This is what I wrote at the time.

Suck On This IRMA #8 is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

“Irish Emigration Worse Than 1980s,” the article by Lisa O’Carroll announces, noting emigration last peaked in Ireland in 1989, when 44,000 left the country. This time ’round – she quotes the ESRI – there will be 50,000.

Yes, indeed, 50,000 is a somewhat larger number than 44,000, but larger too is our population. In 1989 it stood at approximately 3,531,689 and when 44,000 left it gave us an exodus of 1.24%. This time we’re sporting a population of about 4,470,700, of which 50,000 only brings us to 1.11%.

How bad is 1.11% anyway? It’s but a smidgen. Imagine the local shop giving you 1.1% off a pair of trousers in a sale, you’d laugh at them.

Damn it, is it not our duty to explore the world and claim it as our own?

Good for the 50,000 souls who leave our shores this year, I say, may they take their destiny in their hands, visit wondrous places, meet open-minded and exotic people, gain new experience and learn new things, may they tan their faces in a land where the sun actually shines, or where the health care system actually works, or where there’s more to social life than watching X-Factor or sculling expensive pints. Good for them, I say, for there’s nothing better in this world that to travel and expand your mind.

In future, they may return, and with them they’ll bring riches in experience, stories to tell, and likely a jolt to our long-suffering gombeen gene pool, with foreign wives and husbands.

Those that don’t come back, they’ll remain as Irish in 50 years as they do today, and they will spawn a new generation of sons-of-Irish who will look fondly on their country, visit it, live in it, invest in it, talk positively about it. Damn it, is it not our duty to explore the world and claim it as our own?

Bring on the 50,000 a year exodus, I say, for there are opportunities in crises, and it’s only then you truly value what you have: your education, your health, your voice, your intelligence, and your long-suppressed desire for adventure!

Emigration? Bring It On! is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

Frou Frou’s tune, “Let Go”.

Back in May 2006, when I first recommended this tune, I said this: “The result of another mindless music-finding jaunt around the net, which can delight.”

Video on YouTube:

* IRMA forced me to remove tunes from my blog in May 2007. These tunes, 29 of them, in mp3 format, were music recommendations to visitors and friends alike. I have a long memory. They said: “Should this matter not be resolved to our satisfaction, further steps will be taken.” This is my attempt to claw-back some pride. This is what I wrote at the time.

Suck On This IRMA #7 is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

Every coin of a value greater than one cent has been removed.

It’s a box of next-to-valueless coins.

Each trip to the street, results in more of these discarded, forgotten fragments.

Individually, so valueless are they that the guys begging on the street are now charging 40 of them to make it worth their while begging it from you.

For years they’ve snuggled-up at night beside paperclips, watch batteries, receipts of returned goods and safety pins; all stuff of momentary value, but typically of none at all.

On occasion, a €2.11- or a €4.42-type bill – you know, for a head of cabbage or a box of bandages – boring stuff, makes me wish I’d grabbed a few of them, but only then.

It’s either the bottom of my box, or the acute corner of someone’s third-favourite pants.

Only together are they worth considering. They might combine to make four or five quid, not a lot, but they probably feel pretty good about it. Power in numbers.

They cling to the once-whispered rumour that if they were melted-down they’d be worth more on the copper market.

So, I’ve decided. Each time I venture out of the house, there’ll be ten one-cent coins accompanying me, and I’ll aim to use them. Let’s see if I can give them something to exist for again.

Ten One-Cent Coins is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

I never had really considered this before.

I never really had considered this before.

I had never really considered this before.

I had really never considered this before.

I really never had considered this before.

I really had never considered this before.

I had never considered this before, really.

Never had I really considered this before.

And since you’re here, how about these:

Really, I had never considered this before.

This, I had never really considered before.

Before, I had never really considered this.

Before, I never really had considered this.

Before, I never had really considered this.

Before, I had never considered this, really.

Never Considered This Before, Really? is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

In my day-to-day I provide web services to a few clients, and if they have a problem, it’s me the human who responds to them.

This hit me like a lightning bolt just now when a prospective client from Austin, Texas firstly thanked me for responding quickly (it took me about eight hours, longer than usual) AND thanked me for… let me copy this out of his email… “I like that you responded in a caring and hospitable way.”

He went on: “[my current supplier] is not quite like that.  I can’t really talk to anyone but machines or automated responses.”

I had never really considered this before. You know, I did respond in a caring way because I made an effort be to cheaper than his current supplier, and I also congratulated him for choosing Austin to live in, cos I think it’s a mighty place.

Hell, maybe I have a unique – or close to it – selling point that I hadn’t wholly considered before. That’s brightened-up my Monday.

Goddamn, I’m Human is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

Butcher Butchers Beef Burgers is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

If it’s not, it will be when this is written.

I’ve heard two words in here tonight more often than any other two
words – “revolución” and “okupa”. You Anglophiles can work out the
former, the latter is short for the word “occupied”, meaning
squatted. Most here have their accommodation for tonight secured in this way.

Each of the last three drinks, each the same, has had a different price.

The scene is detailed. Every second light is broken, the ones that work have enviro-friendly bulbs, the only concession here to modernity. Duct tape keeps the air conditioner in place, the bottled alcohol is heavy on the absinthe, the oft-repeated hand-written notices along the walls inform music-off at 22.00, no service after 22.15, and closing time 22.30. The CD is skipping, no one seems to notice. Each of the last three drinks, each the same, has had a different price. There’s a distinct aroma of damp,

The Bar, Barcelona

the type you get when people wear clothes not properly dried. More signs declare that lost keys, clothes, shoes and “other objects” not claimed before the end of March will be unavailable thereafter. The end of March, apparently is March 31. Che Gueverra appears in… I think six locations that I can see. There’s a collection going for “Anarchistic Prisoners”. There are five high stools, one of which I’ve got, all others are occupied. That leaves us with six others standing, four with dreadlocks. You might get two more people in here, but there’s room for no more. Each order is accompanied by an offer of some nuts, crisps or popcorn. It’s a glorified former corridor of an apartment block, but it’s the first time the word “glorified” has ever been used in conjunction with this place. Truth is, I’m the only one in here drinking this kind of beer, that may be because it’s 20cent a bottle more expensive than the house standard. I haven’t seen a denomination in here greater in value than a fiver.

Here’s a possible candidate though. He’s arrived just now, his circumference running about 70% the width of the bar. He’s ordering a tequila – no not that one, a good one – and to go with it… tabasco. Three drops. This has gotten the attention of the bar. Impressive. A few heads turn. Downed it in one go. Another one ordered, two drops this time. And then a slug of beer. Really must try this at home. He doesn’t have a seat, he’s eyeing mine. Dublin Bus rules are: much older, more pregnant, more crutches than you, then you give up your seat. He’s just huge, and ugly, so I’m staying put.

The barman, Miguel, they’re calling him, is doing more lipreading than listening. It’s not that it’s overly loud in here, but he’s deaf. A large see-through-that-you-can-see cable leads from somewhere down his back and up and around his ear lobe, and lodges in a bushel of hair shooting from his earhole.

Nice guy, Basque cap upon his head. He has the respect of these people, thirty years his junior. He’s digging into a plastic bucket of crisps right now, the scoopability of his bare hand being used to full effect.

The smoking ban has just come in. There’s still confusion about it. Someone’s rolling-up. It’s agreed that it’s legal to do that. No question. Another asks if they’re gonna smoke it here. Miguel does hear this. A wave of the hand suggests that no, the street is the place. Mutter of discontent, this isn’t the crowd who naturally follow the rules. A rebellious clique of a rebellious generation, in a part of Spain struggling against being governed by a government they don’t recognise as truly theirs.

I’d like to think that little could tell me apart here, but I’ve no part-shaven head (the left side seems more popular), I order my beer with a foreign lilt, my hair’s not brushed but by no means platted or matted, I’m wearing a scarf the green label of which I should have concealed before I walked in here but it took me two minutes too long to notice, and I have blue eyes – that’s not normally something to be aware of – but tonight I’m most certainly the only only here who does. Do I want to fit in? Maybe just for a minute. Probably no more. Probably.

I exit. There are more people out here than in there. I get a brotherly handshake from Miguel on the way out. Acceptance of a kind.

Barfellows, Barcelona-style is a post from: Wrafter Writes.

For me, that removes one of the two good reasons I always bought my cinema tickets online: buy before the screening sells out, and get a good seat while I’m doing it.

The charge is €0.90c per ticket for this service, which I figure is a fair price for the convenience it offers.

No longer. Arriving 10 minutes earlier than most other cinemagoers still gets me into the screening, and using the cinema’s own box-office still gives me some control over what seat I ultimately take.

By removing the small pleasure of being able to choose your own seat online, they’ve lost an additional stream of revenue (the convenience fee), and cost themselves more as they now need to provide extra staff to deal with the longer queues.

Further, there’s nothing better for a business than getting money up-front – especially fickle disposable income-type business, because if it rains in an hour’s time, I mightn’t end up going to the cinema after all, but they’ll still have the money I parted with earlier.

It’s a dumb move by the cinema company, and one they should have thought through better.

Cinema Cuts Choice, Creates Costs, Causes Customer Chagrin is a post from: Wrafter Writes.