If Only, Vol. 1

These columns have been severely lacking for positivity as of late.

And when even I can feel that lack, you know it’s gotten bad. But what’s a chronicler to do when the world is so full of care and every headline screams despair; and all is rape, starvation, war, and life seems vile?

Maybe this is how old beat cops feel – so worn down by the sheer tragedy of it all that the only recourse for their worn out neanderthal brains is to go home and beat on the wife or strangle a black kid. But y’know what! There’s a better way. There’s got to be. So for the benefit of our sanity, let’s make like a Canadian bank and go loonie, shall we?

So let us indulge in some wish fulfilment instead!

Putin’s dead. He died in his marble bunker during an autoerotic asphyxiation-accident while watching the Teletubbies on repeat. And although the Kremlin is in turmoil of where to extort this year’s Christmas Party’s funding, federated states across the nation break away into self-governance – which has turned out a surprisingly unbloody affair, seeing as the vast majority of local government officials proved vacant from their posts in favour of their Cyprus villas.

In solidarity, or perhaps fearing for his own health, Xi Jinping brokered a deal with Tibet to be allowed into a life-affirming, non-masturbatory monastery, spelling the end of Chinese occupation of the mountainous country. Analysts believe this will usher in a wave of declarations of independence, citing Commie the Pooh’s exit from public life as a sign of a swift turn for the region’s imperial nation.

Meanwhile, in India, the nationalist driving his country to ethnic cleansing, Narendra Modi, has, for the first time in recorded history, faltered in spreading hate on camera when his son came out of the closet on live television while converting to Islam. As the RSS reels from the unexpected reveal, both Hindus and Muslims across the country rejoice at the, perhaps, most honest moment in Modi’s aggressive political media campaign yet, and rally around the hope that this will affect a benevolent turn in the old bigot’s soul.

On the other side of the world, Elon finally left on his rocket. America sighs a sigh of relief as the mogul finalized his bid to take his vision of “the best and brightest” to the stars. Post-launch, prosecutors find Mar-A-Lago empty, Hollywood quiet, and most of the federal and corporate government devoid of shareholders. Although this will no doubt spell economic woes in the years ahead, the Pentagon has promised to unlock Fort Knox, and the launch engineers of the departed “Space Force Super-One!!!” generational space ark reassure us that they have included a Voyager-style gold plate on the tip of the craft apologizing most sincerely and profusely to any and all intelligences that the travellers may encounter and please ask them not to judge us leftovers by what they may find aboard the spacefaring phallus.

In closing, a convoy of a million children were observed marching out of Ashkelon and crossing over into northern Gaza, carrying with them everything from clean water and first aid supplies to Cheeto’s and mommy’s Valium, taking the besieging IDF forces by surprise. In public statements, recorded and released across multiple platforms at the time of the first border crossings, the children proclaim that they refuse to let the sins of their parents become their own and elect instead to stand with the oppressed. The confusion of IDF soldiers only increased as startled marksmen are accused of anti-Semitism for no longer being able to tell Jewish and Palestinian children apart. A public condemnation and resolution against further ethnic cleansing in Gaza or any remaining Palestinian territory was signed during an emergency meeting at the UN Security Council after the initial hour of the march, suspected only to have passed because the US secretary to the Security Council is believed to be currently drinking Mai Tai’s on Elon’s rocket.

If only the world was sane, eh…

/Sebastian Lindberg 16/5-2024

When Noble Labours Reap Savage Rewards

Last week, on May 11, Al Jazeera journalist Shireen Abu Akleh was shot in the head by Israeli Defence Forces in the occupied West Bank.

Israel’s Bennett and Gantz tried to shift the blame to Palestinian militants, but the camera evidence and AFP witness accounts of the IDF’s blame is solid. To salt the wounds, the IDF went on to attack Shireen’s funeral convoy and beat the living shit out of mourners. Because that’s what oppressors do.

This isn’t the first time the IDF has targetted – hunted – journalists reporting on apartheid Israel’s genocidal occupation. Turkish state media Anadolu Agency account for 15 killed journalists since 1992, while Qatari Al Jazeera and the Palestinian government account for some ~50 journalists targetted and murdered since 2000. I guess definitions of “journalist” vary…

Journalism gets a bad rep these days. Truth be told, it’s always been popular to hate on journalists. Because they tell the stories that Power doesn’t want told. Anything else is advertisement. And though the line between journalist and private citizen has been blurred with the advent of social media, the profession, in my mind, has become more invaluable than ever. Not less so. A journalist takes on the inhuman task of trying to set aside bias and get to roots that, sometimes, absolutely no one is comfortable exploring.

Good, brave, defiant journalism is a fundamental of not just democracy, but any kind of society. Good journalism keeps liars honest, crooks accountable, and despots despairing. Which is why journalism is such a dangerous profession. Regardless if you’re plying your trade in occupied Palestine, war-torn Ukraine, or quasi-dictatorial Philippines. Not because you work at high altitudes or face down landmines for a living, but because Power will want to have you silenced. Which is probably also why a vast majority of journalist murders go unresolved. Because Power is always happy when journalists die.

When Power wants you dead, you’re doing something right with your life.

I’m biased. I think journalism can be one of the noblest labours upon this planet. When done right. The details of what “right” means also varies, but whenever one speaks truth to Power and is hated for it, hunted for it, it is inalienably right.

I mourn not just for Shireen and her peers of later day secular martyrs, but for this our current circumstances; where one of the highest awards one can receive for one of the noblest labours in history is to be murdered by Power.

/Sebastian Lindberg 17/5-2022