FURTHERMORE
By Gerry Moran
You know when you watch a movie, or documentary, that requires your pin number because there may be scenes (usually of a sexual violent nature) that could prove upsetting to some viewers. And you do. And after the credits have rolled the following appears on your screen: ‘If you have been affected in any way by any of the issues in tonight’s programme you’ll find help and support at w.w.w etc. etc. And that’s good to know. But here’s what I want to know – why the hell doesn’t that same message pop up after the Nine O’Clock News every night because I, genuinely, am affected by what I see on my screen. I get quite upset looking at the constant, relentless murder of men, women and especially innocent children and babies in Gaza. Where’s the support for us viewers having to look at that, night, after night, while platitudes are spouted from U.N. officials and leaders from around the world to no avail. Where’s the support for us viewers who have to endure the slow, but sure, annihilation of a nation and the unbridled, unchecked act of genocide? What number do we ring? I also get quite upset, very upset, when I hear of murders in our own country – not least family murders/suicides involving innocent children which leave me, and the entire population, profoundly saddened, baffled and bewildered. Once again – what number do we ring for support?
My Gaza strip! (a true story)
I’m at a dinner party – there’s maybe eight or ten of us seated around a long table. Needless to say there’s no shortage of chit-chat, small talk, fake laughter (think Trump and King Charles in Buckingham Palace recently) Sitting directly opposite me is a tall, dark-haired, well built (very well built) man. He has dark, brown, brooding eyes, looks intensely at me and tells me he’s Jewish. I hold his gaze and rather foolishly, tell him what I think of the Jews and what’s going on in Gaza. Can’t quite recall what words I spoke but I do think murder, slaughter and genocide featured in my vocabulary. Which wasn’t bright. Not bright at all. He rises from his chair – all six-foot four of him, or so, and lounges towards me. I feel quite scared, terrified if I’m honest. I stand up and punch him full force in the chest. Ouch! Which is when I woke up realizing that I had punched the bedroom wall with all my might. I look at my fist – it’s bloodied and bruised. I dash to the bathroom, fooster in the First Aid Kit and apply a strip of plaster to my bloodied knuckle – my Gaza strip which I brandish (with just a little pride) throughout the following week. It’s kind of funny except it’s not. Damn it when the war in Gaza enters my home, my bedroom, it’s not just getting serious, which, of course, it is, and has been for far too long, it is getting sinister. Very sinister. And so as I write this I am cautiously optimistic to hear in the News that Trump and Netanyahu have brokered some kind of peace deal for Gaza. I am pleased, very pleased but not very hopeful.
Cheers
And now for something different entirely. ‘Eat, drink and be merry’ is a phrase close to the hearts, or should I say bellies, of those godforsaken hedonistic folk who live (and live very well) amongst us. You may be surprised, however, as I was, to learn that the phrase actually comes from the Bible. In Ecclesiastes 8:15, we read: ‘A man hath no better thing under the sun than to eat, and to drink, and be merry.’ And as if that’s not enough, there’s a further reference in Isaiah 22:13: ‘Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we shall die.’ (and where did we hear that before?) So, ‘Eat, drink and be merry’ is a religious term! Hell, I’ll drink to that. Sláinte all.
