Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Vidpoem to feature in the Atticus Review

The Bruce Ryder animated I Love The Internet is to appear in a Vvdpoem feature in the Atticus Review - a nice outfit - before it boogies up north to Canada to feature in the Galerie Sans Nom Videopoetry exhibition. All of which makes Kevin a happy camper. And it all confirms my initial feeling that this video poetry gig was not just fun but was an emerging and rapidly growing art form. So. Yeah. Fun.Onwards.

Friday, January 16, 2015

SAC - An Anti Church, Family, Morality Conspiracy -or- Going To War With CJ Haughey

Up in Terenure.
Back in those bleak heroin plagued doldrum days of infinite grey 80s psychotic Ireland.
TV's on.
Being wisely ignored.
Did I hear that right?
"An anti church family morality conspiracy."
Did you hear that?
Some fucking Opus Dei spear chucker just came out with that wild nugget.
"An anti church family morality conspiracy."
Wow squared.
He is on whatever the Prime Time of the day was called.
He is suggesting groups of people.
Huddled together.
With one thing in mind
The demise of the church.
The demise of the family
The demise of morality.
An enemy out there.
Working away.
Eroding morality.
Undermining the Church.
Subverting morality.
A group huddled out there.
Like Charlie in the jungle...getting stronger and stronger.
Mega Wow.
On acid!
Who is on drugs?
Hang on.
Am I getting this right.
I am.
This is for real.
And guess what?
It is kind of perfect.
An anti church family morality conspiracy!
Huddled together in sinful communion.
Unholy communion.
This is poetry.
Proper poetry.

'Let's give them one.'


'Let's give them one'


Give it to them. A conspiracy.


An anti-church, family morality conspiracy.




SAC. That's what we will call it.


What's that stand for?

I dunno.

Secular Action Committee,


Society Against Catholicism.



We have a name.


Now we just need to exist.

Let's get this show on the road. be continued

Friday, December 19, 2014


Listening to Lise Hannigan sing Joni Mitchell's River a tad wasted 
by the Liffey on a frozen winter night


You just popped right in.
Singing Joni Mitchell
all festive 
all fun
all full
that lovely goofy feminine shit

Friday, November 28, 2014

Norodom Sihanouk - A Rock Star King

Giving this a two year down the road  re-run

Bruce Ryder
You read Philip Gourevitch's piece on Cambodia's King Norodom Sihanouk in The New Yorker 

And you just know that Mr Gourevitch doesn't know who he is talking about.

It is obvious he has never met King Sihanouk.

In person.

Cos Gourevitch is a bright person.

And had he met Sihanouk we'd know about it.

Cos Sihanouk tends to make an impression on people.

This is no boasty, braggy, access thing.

It's just because Sihanouk was a pretty unique act.

Just look at all the profiles:

The boy-king, pampered, mercurial, playboy, erratic, Oriental , artistic and all the saffron robed exotica.

Everyone struggling to deal with the fact, to articulate in some way, that Sihanouk was the real deal.

Cos Sihanouk was the real deal.

"The Fantasy of King Sihanouk."

That's what the New Yorker says.

And that is actually what Gourevitch seems totally ignorant of or oblivious to.




Sihanouk had no arms or money.

He didn't rape his people.

He wasn't a kelptocrat.

He worked for his supper.

A scam artist maybe.

But an artist.

He hustled on behalf of Cambodia.

Not always perfectly.

But let's take the worst of what Gourevitch throws at him:

Distorting quite a few facts along the way, the big accusation is that Sihanouk is largely responsible for the Khmer Rouge's genocidal rule.

But had he checked, Gourevitch would have easily seen that history is already robbing him of the potency of that polemic.

Julio Jeldres, Sihanouk's biographer, tells us of Sihanouk's expressing his concerns about the Khmer Rouge to Chou Enlai in 73.*

Sihanouk was seeking support to neuter them.

But Chou Enlai had the Gang of Four to worry about.

And the Yanks were not listening.

The Yanks!

The New Yorker piece is written as if the Americans played no role.

There is no sense that the post Killing Fields Khmer Rouge occupied the UN seat down the road.

And no sense of the pressure that was put on Sihanouk to deal with them.


Sihanouk is a lesson in a man who dealt with pressure.

He had a lot thrown at him.

Even for one born a God-King

A collision of centuries, superpowers and virulent ideologies.

He dealt with them all.

Mao to Mitterand, Tito to Nehru, Ceaucescu to Ho Chi Minh, Nixon to de Gaulle.


With Cambodia's well being as his aim, all Sihanouk had at his diplomatic disposal was spectacle.

The Fantasy of King Sihanouk.

Pure Fantasy.

Think Jagger at Altamont singing Sympathy For The Devil.

Then think amateur hour.

Cos that's what it was compared to this 89 year king's never-ending tour.

And despite being born to absolutism.

And the country's history of it.

And the region's propensity for it.

Sihanouk had a  appreciation of the artifice of what we now call human rights.

Here's a senior Red Cross Official who had dealings with him.

With the Khmer Rouge's Ieng Thirith.

And with Hun Sen.

"The only one who has listened and then delivered in terms of Geneva Conventions and all that jazz, was him," the Red Cross official said, speaking of Sihanouk.

"With him we did at least release all political prisoners that were (known to be...) in jail when the SNC took over," he added, referring to the Supreme National Council, the reconciliation grouping of Cambodia's warring factions pending the outcome of UN brokered elections.

And yet Gourevitch laughs at Sihanouk's belief that history had no place for dishonesty and lies.

"It seems impossible that Sihanouk really believed that, " Gourevitch wrote at the end of his New Yorker piece.

But it's entirely possible.

Cos Sihanouk knows history will be kind to him.

He'll get kudos for the hours telling the peasants what Mao or Tito had just said to him.

Way out there.

Where he was only thing that came from the sky that didn't bring death.

A one man shock and awe band.

Helicopter largesse in a water buffalo world.

Norodom Sihanouk.

Samdech Euv.


You were.


Rock star.