Why We Laugh At A Tortured Wallaby And Why I Despise The Human Race

"And somebody might now want to ask me, 'Can't you ever be serious'? The answer is, 'No'."
- Kurt Vonnegut

By Charley Brady

Well, straight up and telling you the truth because that's always been the way that I thought things should be done, here it is: I have always loathed the human race.

That's not much of a surprise to those who read this column on a regular basis, I'm pretty sure.

Sometimes it doesn't take a massacre in some country that is safely far away from us; sometimes it doesn't take a mass murder closer to home; sometimes it just takes one relatively small incident here where there is the utterly despicable treatment of an innocent animal.

That's when you realise what we are; what we are in our bones and our guts and our blood and our utter lack of concern for the "lower orders"; but I'm going back to that later.

For now I just want to make it as crystal bloody clear as an azure sky exactly what I have always thought of our species.

To put it into two words: Nothing much.

I think we're over-rated.

We live in a world where the most astonishing technology is available to us and what do we do? We build weapons that can wipe us out in a moment, but we promise (he said sarcastically) not to use them.

They're there, though.

Jeez, we read this week that an American President, for Christ's sake, actually lost the codes of our disgusting death weapons and, let's be honest; nobody cares because we think: "sure, Gob and Begorrah, it will be alright on the night."

The truly crazy thing is that when we vanish either through carelessness or through the simple process of evolution - that tells us that we're not wanted anymore - it has always been down to us (see last week).

Jeez, can you imagine if, on the off-chance of there being something better than us, how they must look at this planet?

No. I'm not some ageing hippy because I couldn't stand those wimps either, but think about it.

We as a species continue to hunt animals into extinction; we continue to hate our wonderful planet so much that we endlessly cut down trees in the Amazon that give us most of our air; we wilfully poison the waters that we need; we as humans (whatever that is, I sometimes wonder) will continually turn on ourselves through endless warfare even into the 21st century when you would have thought that we would know better.

We turn truly awesome weapons on each other because that's the way that we are. Even worse, and possibly the ultimate horror: some of our supposedly intelligent species even play golf.

Seriously: if you were an alien and you saw a group of men belting a small ball as far away as they can get it and then chase AFTER it, what would you think?

As I said, I don't think that we amount to much, really.

Sure, there are genuinely good people out there and God love them because they are on a hiding to nothing. It's the not-so-nice that will always have their powerful talons on the way that we run our lives.

Justice? Forget about that one; there isn't any.

Sanity? You're kidding, right? That goes out the window when Big Money comes into the equation.

Decency? If one single freeloading pastor or politician thought that he could make some easy money out of some poor young person stripping off in front of a camera he would be into that money racket like a shot.

On that auspicious day when this universe sees us kissing it goodbye, that same universe won't feel a thing. If there actually is some unlikely God or more likely an unfeeling Entity then It will probably say, well, there you go. Another failed experiment.

In the scheme of things, it probably means little to a lot of people but the dreadful video footage of a poor wallaby being thrown onto a night club floor in the Clarion Hotel in Dublin last week surely showed the world for once and for all what a drunken, ignorant, unfeeling section of this island's populace are like.

I'm pretty sure that by the time this is printed then you will have read about how some Irish people disgraced themselves as usual as soon as the "drink" and the "craic" came into it.

Drink and the craic. I've loved both in my time. What I have never done is simulate sex with a poor bloody creature that was half-blinded by the lights and was in obviously sheer terror; then, of course, not giving a fiddler's for the poor thing's distress, they whirled it around the dance floor.

Needless to say, other [expletives deleted] didn't only cheer on the "performance" but actually delighted themselves by taking photographs on their mobile phones.

Some beauties; some drunken monsters.

The contemptible circus owner who makes a habit of renting out his animals to nightclubs has naturally enough said that he has never done anything of the kind. He's innocent, Your Honour.

He is Alexander Scholl and unfortunately for him, squeaky-clean guy that he is, he has already been photographed in other nightclubs; and guess what? He's standing there with three barely dressed ladies and a terrified looking wallaby staring into the camera.

Oh, did I forget to mention that his brother, Martin Scholl has been in the past convicted for drugging his performing dogs?

What a family. They make Leatherface and his brothers look positively normal.

Well, he still has his circus based in Dublin so you know what to do if you are visiting here: don't buy any tickets for it.

Now, I'd like to say that this is on a lighter note, but it's not really. If you can get access to the Irish Mail on Sunday of October 24th you'll find an article by the ever-reliable Jason O'Toole and let me tell you, it is well worth checking out.

It's nothing that you haven't heard from this column over the last couple of years but coming from Dr. James Reilly rather than some hack who is just tired of all the bullshit I would urge you to read it on the internet.

O'Toole is interviewing a man who seems to me at the end of his tether and I truly hope that this General Practitioner takes over as our next Minister for Health. Don't count on it, mind you. We don't really like people who are outspoken in this country.

His background:

"First came the devastating news that his three-year-old son had autism - a condition the system failed to identify. Instead, his shocked parents were told that their child was mentally impaired

"Then came Dr. Reilly's mounting frustration over his patients' inability to get proper medical attention under Mary Harney's regime.

"But the undoubted turning point was his son's illness, about which Dr. Reilly has never spoken in length in public before.

"He says: 'He didn't speak. To cut a long story short, we were told that he was handicapped. [Now he is finishing university]. But he was autistic. And he is autistic

"'Here's the thing that annoyed me - the failure to get an accurate diagnosis on this side of the Irish Sea. I was told it was atypical! You can imagine my response to that! I could see he was different.

"'He had no speech when he was assessed yet they used a verbal tool, an IQ test, to assess his IQ. I mean, how stupid can you be? It certainly inspired me to change things.'"

Talking of his later decision to run for public office he says, rather tellingly, I think, that he had become so disillusioned by the decline in the health service under Harney.

"The minister, who I thought was going to do the business, was not doing it. As a GP, I couldn't do my job any more. I was seeing the situation change from where I get a patient seen the next day, to where they now sit on chairs for four days in A&E and wait years for essential treatment. In Holland, patients are seen by a consultant within four weeks, max. I haven't visited every single health service in the EU but I haven't visited one that is worse. This is the worst that I know of, absolutely."

I could go on, but I hope that if you are interested in our Third World health system that you will check out either Jason O'Toole's excellent article or else Dr. Reilly himself.

This column (as they say in the best newspapers) had just about given up voting for anyone, but I'm going to go out on a limb here: even if it means that I have to vote for Fine Gael I want to see Dr. Reilly take over from that waste of space, Morticia Death's Head Bloody Mary Harney. I just want to see the back of her and her ass being given a big thump on it as the door is closed behind her.

We could do with someone that is passionate and who knows what he is talking about.

Before I finish on this I liked what he said about Brian Lenihan: "As regards the job, he has been a catastrophe."

Well, yeah, but don't forget that we now know that he isn't really writing our up and coming "harsh" budget. To all intents and purposes that's being written and dealt with by the European Union and the European Central Bank You know, the guys that actually run this country now.

Now where have those clowns who emailed me to say that I was an isolationist dinosaur because I was so outspoken about voting against the Lisbon Treaty gone? Oh yeah, now I remember: I never hear from them anymore.

Live with it, folks: you sold your sovereignty. Like Faust, it's a bit late to start screaming now.

Talking of dinosaurs isn't it just great to see the Holy Catholic Church making a show of itself once again?

Yes, sad but true: they have embraced the ideals of Perfidious Albion once more and now recommend that children who are enjoying Halloween would enjoy it much more if they dressed up as Catholic saints rather than Batman, a witch, Harry Potter or whatever they do these days.

If it wasn't so bloody pathetic I would be tempted to make a joke. A rude one.

Well, it's apparently a pagan ritual, you see. Which amuses me because if the Holy Fathers (yes, they're still all men, albeit wearing frocks) want to get rid of Pagan rituals let's start with Christmas.

After all, what could be more pagan than that. Even as a teenager I thought it was like something out of the "The Wicker Man" - the original, of course, not the awful Nicholas Cage blasphemy of a remake.

Let's see: a male virgin is tortured and put to death in a really unpleasant manner so that everybody will be forgiven and light and goodness and the crops will shine and grow again.

And don't get me started on Easter...

If I survive dressing up as the Joker for Halloween and avoid being hit by thunderbolts from above then I hope to see you all again next week.

S- s- s Same bat time!

S- s- s Same bat channel!

You can reach Charley at chasbrady7@eircom.net