Firewood Was Passing

Marrakech

by George Orwell, 1939

(source)

As the corpse went past the flies left the restaurant table in a cloud and rushed after it, but they came back a few minutes later.

The little crowd of mourners–all men and boys, no women–threaded their way across the market-place between the piles of pomegranates and the taxis and the camels, wailing a short chant over and over again. What really appeals to the flies is that the corpses here are never put into coffins, they are merely wrapped in a piece of rag and carried on a rough wooden bier on the shoulders of four friends. When the friends get to the burying-ground they hack an oblong hole a foot or two deep, dump the body in it and fling over it a little of the dried-up, lumpy earth, which is like broken brick. No gravestone, no name, no identifying mark of any kind. The burying-ground is merely a huge waste of hummocky earth, like a derelict building-lot. After a month or two no one can even be certain where his own relatives are buried.

When you walk through a town like this–two hundred thousand inhabitants, of whom at least twenty thousand own literally nothing except the rags they stand up in–when you see how the people live, and still more how easily they die, it is always difficult to believe that you are walking among human beings. All colonial empires are in reality founded upon that fact. The people have brown faces–besides, there are so many of them! Are they really the same flesh as yourself? Do they even have names? Or are they merely a kind of undifferentiated brown stuff, about as individual as bees or coral insects? They rise out of the earth, they sweat and starve for a few years, and then they sink back into the nameless mounds of the graveyard and nobody notices that they are gone. And even the graves themselves soon fade back into the soil. Sometimes, out for a walk, as you break your way through the prickly pear, you notice that it is rather bumpy underfoot, and only a certain regularity in the bumps tells you that you are walking over skeletons.

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Show 93 – New President, Reading List, Super Bowl Cleanup

Super Bowl at Hobby Airport

Super Bowl at Hobby Airport

Show 93 starts with a bit of audio from the inauguration and generally the same speech from David Bowie. Stig then gives the corrections for the week and then tries to get the executive producer to say Bill is racist. Bill talks his way out of it. Bill and Stig then share their beverages of choice for the week.

At 7:10, Stig reveals Johnny Manziel’s tweet to the new President and a former tweet from DJT referring to Johnny. Bill then give the alternative attendance story that came out of Dallas this week. Stig then has to talk just a bit about Kellyanne. Bill add some observations about SNL’s viability. Hands

At 16:03, Stig and Bill talk about the Women’s March in Washington, D.C. and around the world. Stig then begins a discussion about the numerous executive orders being issued. Bill then covers a bit of the pipelines being approved. IMG_4838

At 24:10, Stig discusses the changes made in the Hobby District for the upcoming Super Bowl. Included are the changes at Hobby Airport. Next, Stig discusses odds making in Vegas on the Trump presidency. Bill then give a list of books for reading that can help explain our times.

Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood, 1985)

1984 (George Orwell, 1949)

Brave New World (Aldus Huxley, 1932)

Don Quixote (Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, 1605)

At 39:35, Stig and Bill explain what is new to them for the week. Stig hits middle America, Bill goes to an unfamiliar mall. 

Music featured in this episode:

  • “Future Legend” – David Bowie (iTunes)
  • “Famous Politician” – Poppy (YouTube)
  • “Kellyanne Conway” – Saturday Night Live (YouTube)
  • “I Can’t Keep Quiet” – Milck (YouTube)
  • “Man of La Mancha” – Original 1965 Broadway Cast (iTunes)