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Salsa, Salsa & The Politics of Water

Thursday, January 12th, 2006

The salsa was hot, and I was sweating slightly. I stepped off the dancefloor & dipped a tortilla chip in a pot of red sauce. The salsa was hot, and I was sweating slightly. I put down my tortilla chip & stepped back onto the dancefloor.

I had signed up for a trip to a salsa club/mexican restaurant at my hostel. 500 people can stay here at any one time, so you’d think there’d be a big demand for such a trip. Mine was the only name on the form. So a local girl – Anahita – who had volunteered to lead the trip, and I, set out uptown on the famous “El” railroad.

The demonstration of the steps was fast-paced. I kept up as best I could, but memories of being moved to the back of the stage during a high school musical due to my atrocious dancing kept coming back to haunt me. Dont get me wrong, I love to dance. But in a more free-spirited, non-step oriented way. Still, I was determined to try.

Of course, all this exercise was bound to get me thirsty. So I asked the waitress for another glass of water ( I had drunk one before the music had begun.) She told me that she was not permitted to serve tap water after the music & dancing began. Only bottled water. I went to the toilet and filled my glass up from the sink. And started to think about capitalist greed & the politics of water…

I spent a fair bit of dosh in that mexican jaunt tonight. And I might well have spent more had they not been such greedy, exploitative assholes. It’s not as if they dont have a tap. Or even that they have one but consistently dont serve water from it (although in my book that’s still pretty shitty). No. They took a conscious business decision to take advantage of the fact that when people dance they get thirsty. They’re not alone of course. I’ve been to several clubs in the U.K where the cold water taps are switched off, forcing people to buy especially small or incoveniently shaped bottles of mineral water. My friend Anna Cook told me a story once about trying to get a glass of water at a bar, only to be told that they had no glasses. Yes, a bar with no glasses. Like a rodeo with no horses, or a theme park with no rides. All really profitable enterprises. So Anna sighed and asked for a glass of Bourbon & coke. Lo & behold the barman reached for a glass. “Hang on” said Anna, as he reached for the JD. “Now can you fill that glass with water instead.”

The politics of water also take place on a much larger scale. From arguments between Israel & Syria over rights to the Sea of Gallilee to the recent poisoning of a river in China – water is used as a political tool and a political weapon. Sure, in mine & Anna’s case the purpose is just to squeeze a few extra bucks from the consumer’s pocket. But what if I didn’t have a few extra bucks? What if I decided to just forget my thirst and keep on dancing? What if I then collapsed from dehydration and died right there on the dancefloor, salsa pumping above my corpse? You can ask “what if” till the crows come home to roost. But as long as greedy businesses and self-interested nations continue to use this precious & universally owned commodity for profit & power these questions will remain. I’m going to go & get a drink of water now. It’s free. For how long?

Jerry Springer Show…

Wednesday, January 11th, 2006

There’s a 2-year wait to get on the Oprah Winfrey show. So I went to see them film Jerry Springer.

Oprah gives dvd players, caviar, & monte cristo’s to her audience. Jerry gives beads.
Oprah’s set is sparkly & has luxurious soft sofa’s for Tom Cruise to do his thang on. Jerry’s place is made to look like a dirty warehouse.

But hey, an hour’s queueing has gotta be preferable to 2 years. Although I guess you could accomplish a fair bit in a two-year queue. You could read the whole of Lord of the Rings without getting distracted for starters. Going to the loo might present a slight problem, but I reckon Oprah’s on hand with perfumed paper bags. The woman thinks of everything.

So I manage to get a seat on the stair. The chairs go to the people who had the foresight to book ahead. And those called Claire. People called Claire always get given a chair. I know that don’t seem fair. But I swear I don’t care. So there I was sitting on the stair. Jerry comes in & does a few minutes stand-up comedy. He’s ok. You can tell he’s done the same shtick 1758 times before though. We (the audience) are then given the rules: Dont swear, cheer a lot, boo even more, dont swear, dont swear, pump your fist and chant “Jerry” whenever prompted by the dude in the headset at the side of the stage, and dont swear. The word “Titties” apparently counts as a swear word. We were instructed to use “boobs” or “breasts” instead. I have no idea who decides that “boobs” is more acceptable than “titties”. But I envy them their job no end. Long conference calls regarding the advisability of recommending to T.V stations that “schlong” is better than “dong” is an easy gig to be sure.

The 1st guest appears. She tells a complicated story which boils down to the fact that she (who will hereafter be called female F1) wants her husband (M1) back. The trouble is M1 is now with F2. And F2‘s ex M2 is currently dating F1. You following? of course this all leads to fisticuffs between F1 and F2 and then more fisticuffs between M1 and M2. The two M‘s also feel the need to take off their shirts while fighting. One could almost imagine that this whole spectacle was genuine were it not for the sounding of a boxing round bell which signals the participants to get stuck in. That, and the fact that when the lights go down and the cameras switch off – everybody suddenly feels a whole deal calmer. That, and the fact that I saw F1 and F2 hugging in the corridor after the show. That, and the fact that I then saw F1 being paid for her dramatics.

The second set of guests involved a guy who had cheated with the babysitter. Apparently he really liked her “titties”. She even showed them to the audience. What lucky, lucky people we were. When all the fighting was done, and the umpteenth commercial break had been made. (Jerry walks off. Jerry walks on) it was time for questions. We were instructed to boo bad questions and tell the bad questioner to “go to Oprah”. This we did. Most of the questions revolved around the fact that M1 had a tiny head and the guy who porked the babysitter had a silly beard and dodgy teeth. Then Jerry gave his “final thought”. This was basically that love is strange and unconscious. Again, this was the 1759th time.

So what can I conclude from my afternoon with Jerry? If there’s one thing, it’s this: The world actually has less ridiculously stupid, ugly & vain people in it than one might imagine. Coz if there were so many, they wouldn’t need to hire actors to come on Jerry Springer. Is that true? I have absolutely no idea. But Chicago sure is pretty. Great pizza too. Gonna go get me some.

Bucky, Bucky’s & a Buckaroo…

Friday, January 6th, 2006
It all began a couple of weeks ago when I first arrived in the city of Lawrence, Kansas. As my girlfriend Jane drove me across town she told me not to look to my left. I didn't. Several times ... [Continue reading this entry]