A hundred feet across my door there is this small place serving fast-food (chicken) to go. I've never come in but I walk by every day on my way to the tube, another hundred feet further. Running parallel to the exterior window it is the counter and, on one of the perpendicular walls, one can see through the window the picture of 20 or 25 famous maladies, portrait-size. The images are framed and arranged neatly in a 6 x 4 matrix, or something of the sort: Marylin Monroe, Nelson Mandela, Maradona, Michael Jackson, Vito Corleone, El Che, Elvis, Jimmy Hendrix, etc. The heroes of our time!
I am tempting of suggesting the addition of Oscar Pistorius to the collection of illustrious brutes. The criminal fits well in the standards of modern heroes. In the days following his arrest and hearing it seems that some people in the UK wondered bewildered, their whole concept of the hero scattered to pieces: "what shall we say to our kids who loved him?". In the Spanish language there is a proverb: "el hábito no hace al monje". Perhaps, it is a good starting point. The Beauty falls in love with the Beast because, before you can emit any judgement, you need to go beyond appearances and seek the heart. Mobs often fail.
However, perhaps that proverb is not a good starting point. After all, from the information we have so far, the lifestyle of Pistorius has been, at least lately, suspicious. His profile is one of the book: typical rich guy, overprotected (and, thus, insecure and violent), surrounded always by friends of the like ("dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres", is another Spanish proverb) and tasting over and over the nectar of gods. And by this I mean drugs and something else, of course: the rapturous feeling of having the world looking at you with the eyes of the submissive dog. In my mind, Oscar Pistorius makes a murderer, a perjurer and, possibly, a briber. The worst kind. You have to be an unbridled animal to kill a woman -his relationship with Reeva seems nothing special, just a normal now-for-a-while type of thing- shooting her through the door out of jealousy or spite. Alas! The mighty hero turns out to be the vulgar murderer of a woman in a domestic scene, notwithstanding the brutality of the story, overwhelmed by the lowest instincts. He can always say that it was in a rage, that he never knew he would kill her through the door. That might be a little more difficult to challenge by the prosecution and, I guess, will smooth the sentence. But I suspect that Pistorius knew also what he was doing; knew that shooting through the door, he would kill her. Otherwise he would have never made that nonsensical alibi the first day.
Poor devil! The strong fighter, the admired athlete, devastated by the worst of his weaknesses: fear. I was thinking that the verses in Cohen's Hallelujah would go well: "Maybe there is a God above/ but everything I've learned from love/ is how to shoot someone who overdrew ya". But there is no love in Pistorius deed: it is a barren blow of blind destruction.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
I am tempting of suggesting the addition of Oscar Pistorius to the collection of illustrious brutes. The criminal fits well in the standards of modern heroes. In the days following his arrest and hearing it seems that some people in the UK wondered bewildered, their whole concept of the hero scattered to pieces: "what shall we say to our kids who loved him?". In the Spanish language there is a proverb: "el hábito no hace al monje". Perhaps, it is a good starting point. The Beauty falls in love with the Beast because, before you can emit any judgement, you need to go beyond appearances and seek the heart. Mobs often fail.
However, perhaps that proverb is not a good starting point. After all, from the information we have so far, the lifestyle of Pistorius has been, at least lately, suspicious. His profile is one of the book: typical rich guy, overprotected (and, thus, insecure and violent), surrounded always by friends of the like ("dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres", is another Spanish proverb) and tasting over and over the nectar of gods. And by this I mean drugs and something else, of course: the rapturous feeling of having the world looking at you with the eyes of the submissive dog. In my mind, Oscar Pistorius makes a murderer, a perjurer and, possibly, a briber. The worst kind. You have to be an unbridled animal to kill a woman -his relationship with Reeva seems nothing special, just a normal now-for-a-while type of thing- shooting her through the door out of jealousy or spite. Alas! The mighty hero turns out to be the vulgar murderer of a woman in a domestic scene, notwithstanding the brutality of the story, overwhelmed by the lowest instincts. He can always say that it was in a rage, that he never knew he would kill her through the door. That might be a little more difficult to challenge by the prosecution and, I guess, will smooth the sentence. But I suspect that Pistorius knew also what he was doing; knew that shooting through the door, he would kill her. Otherwise he would have never made that nonsensical alibi the first day.
Poor devil! The strong fighter, the admired athlete, devastated by the worst of his weaknesses: fear. I was thinking that the verses in Cohen's Hallelujah would go well: "Maybe there is a God above/ but everything I've learned from love/ is how to shoot someone who overdrew ya". But there is no love in Pistorius deed: it is a barren blow of blind destruction.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
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