Monthly Archives: May 2013

Mit Reklaw’s Truth on People

Fair call. You might have expected that this, the most obvious Truth exploration, should have come sooner. Give me a break man, I was building to it. So here we go: People. People can be pleasant; people can be unpleasant. People can be upstanding; people can be delinquents. People can be gentlemen; people can be reprobates. Youthful people in particular, have a propensity to revert to the dark ages and mimic their forefathers, Neanderthal man. Elderly folk have often become too entrenched in their way of life from 50 years ago, to make any significant changes from then to now. Children have inadequate cognitive formation to be judged either way; they will generally act as example dictates.

So what about kids? Loveable, delightful, adorable, seemingly harmless bundles of joy they are… Or are they? Objectively, children have the potential be the nastiest of all three. You see, they have neither the life experience or presence of mind to make them aware that what they do and what they say, can have seriously detrimental effects on another child’s developing persona – parental guidance notwithstanding. For example, the Year 5 class bully has no idea the effect his actions will take, when one lunchtime he spots that ‘stupid fat kid’ down on the back field, feverishly scooping up and wolfing down handfuls of mud, in a futile endeavour to quell his hunger pains before commencement of afternoon classes; forgetting as young bullies do, that he himself had beaten up this fat kid and taken his lunch money at morning interval, resulting in the insatiable appetite for just about anything palatable. This Year 5 bully has no concept of the consequences his actions will generate as he storms out onto the field, as he silently approaches the fat kid from the rear then delivers a powerful kick, sending him sprawling face first into his muddy banquet… So does this mean the young bully is destined for a life of sadism, or is he just too young to understand that his victim’s onset of tears, thankfully disguised by a covering of mud, will in fact, remain in memory until the day he dies?

Years later, snotty-nosed children have grown into acne-faced teenagers. Intermingle both genders and what do we have? Primitive Society, that’s what. You see, from adolescence to mid 20s, males are masters at allowing their every thought, their every movement to be dictated by hormones – namely, testosterone. The quest for Alpha-male is rekindled as the strongest, most manly man is sought; territorial pissings resume as lust becomes palpable and women are measured simply as objects on which to lay claim. The transition from Neanderthal to Primate man is a relatively quick one. These adolescent males will now turn on each other as readily as they would have shaken hands and embraced two minutes ago. Obviously, the tall, muscular, confident 18-year-old cannot tolerate the sight of the girl he’s been eyeing, showing affection to his shorter, fatter, diffident classmate; so what does he do? He enters the conversation making some scathing remark about this fat kid’s stutter and ‘how he’s surprised this kid can even stuff a cream doughnut in his mouth, he’s shaking that much’.  Adolescents tend to cut each other down not for personal satisfaction, but in order to gain rank and most importantly, desirability – reaching that higher social echelon puts them in a good position to take their pick of the flock. Because of course, the pretty and compassionate girl who was hitherto showing this fat kid some tenderness, cannot manage to hide her giggle at the tough kid’s unintelligent and uninspired remark.

Decades later, from acne-faced teens to acne-scarred young adults, then rough-faced and hard-nosed middle-agers, come, elderly folk. Sometimes nosy, invariably gossipy, generally cantankerous, elderly folk. What more can be said? On account of having too little to occupy themselves, they tend to make their lives more about other peoples lives, such as condemning the neighbourhood bully for his ill-treatment of that poor little fat kid who lives down the road; they have opinions on everybody, such as the belief that one day that fat kid will grow up to be something great, while that insolent tough-guy who takes his pleasure in preying on others, will never amount to much of anything – will always live in a rented house with his similarly drifting, alcoholic buddies – and though he might get away with philandering for a while, he’ll never have a meaningful relationship and so will never truly be happy; they are easily infuriated but still, for the most part at least, maintain a level of quiet dignity synonymous with retirement.

People are odd and interesting characters about whom I could write many pages describing various attributes, but for now, for your sanity, I shall conclude. The truth is, people operate with a latent, perhaps sub-conscious fear of the unknown. In this case, the unknown is being unsure of anybody who might appear more proficient than they. For example, if one undertakes a task, then sees another performing the same task, but better, they will naturally feel emasculated; they will therefore, maybe unknowingly, attempt to cut down that person in a different area, in another way. Trouble comprehending? Permit me to simplify. Ask yourself, why do the obtuse mock the intelligent? Why do the lazy mock the athletic? Why do the idle mock the prolific? Is it resentment..? Is it jealousy..? Or is it a sub-conscious fear that they are being outshone? You see, people possess an innate desire to be the best. This desire manifests more strongly in some than others, sure, but it’s always present. Believe me. We, as people, don’t take kindly to being outshone. Especially siblings. It might sound ridiculous – and it probably is – but it’s human nature.

It’s the nature of people.


Mit Reklaw’s Birthday Rhyme Time

Users of the following poem

Have pronounced it quite ideal,

For you see it fits right on your phone

As a salve perhaps for wounds to heal.

Or this little piece of rhyme

Could provide the perfect birthday gift,

When you are strapped of all but a dime

Simply pick up your phone and send her this.

Take from this

Your day of birth,

All the happiness

That you deserve.

Joining the world

Many years ago,

A gorgeous pearl

Watch as you grow.

A paragon among ladies

You set a blistering pace,

A high standard maybe

But necessary to the race.

So where to from here

A lesser person may ask,

The best in life is near

You might just remark.

With ?? years down

Still a lot more to come,

Like a sleuthing clown

You always find the fun.

Nights that go on all day

Days that go on all night,

In light of hedonistic ways

Still a way to go til the light.

Too much booze

Far too many smokes,

But how can one lose 

Under an invincibility cloak.

Regarding the years

Told ?? is where it stops,

With only the one to spare

Best sprint until you drop.

There’ll always be another

Ready to make the catch,

Sister to a team of brothers

You have earned all of that.

You have earned the world

And all that is found within,

Go forth now glorious pearl

Make it take it – go all in.

Nice one ??????, happy birthday.

Love, ??????? 

Now, as the author, I realise that some of the above verses might not accurately pertain to, or represent the subject of your affection; in which case, they will need to be omitted or modified. That does not bother me – the chick for whom I originally penned it was a pack-a-day smoker and a veritable booze hound. (She’s now married and with kids on the way.) Otherwise, the afore written work, depending on her name length, should equal 1000 characters. Good luck with that.


Mit Reklaw’s Truth on The Road Race

I will not for an instant claim that my own driving habits are totally beyond reproach, and nor will I resort to throwing around names or nationalities of those parties I feel to be most endangering our roads; I would however, like to lay down a few facts of which you, as readers, are most likely fully aware but which you, as road users, are most likely to overlook.

Picture this: it’s a warm summers day – let’s make it Friday – end of the week, work is over, rush hour has commenced and all you want to do, is get home and crack a beer. Or two. Cars in front of you, cars behind you; in fact, as far as you can see in both directions, it’s practically solid vehicles, all idling in unison. Then the line moves. You speed up for a few hundred metres; then shortly after, slow down again. This happens a number times, as it always does, bumper to bumper traffic; most people resigned to sitting and waiting. Then finally, you’re out of the city where the limit is 100kph. Foot down, you go for it. Of course, the preceding vehicle doesn’t share your enthusiasm. It’s funny, he seldom does. Before you know it you’re hard on the brakes, back down to around 80kph. Kilometre after kilometre, 80kph. It’s frustrating. You never can understand it. The speed limit is 100kph, yet for some reason, people are only doing 80. Then you spy it. There’s a gap in oncoming traffic. If you really push it you should just be able to make it. Foot to the floor you pull out to overtake… The adrenalin rises; here’s where the fun begins.

In your subconscious at least, you know full well there will be a solid line of traffic heading out of the city that afternoon, just like you; all on their way home from work. There will be sporadic breaks every so often, sure, but other than that, the homeward bound traffic is a veritable python of sun-baked steel.

Nevertheless, here you are. Over in the opposite lane powering along that snake’s mighty backbone in an attempt to jump four or five vertebra. You make it. Nice one. You are now around 100 metres better off than you were. That particular stretch of the journey takes approximately half an hour at 100kph; so now, given that you’ve managed to leap forward 100 metres, you have shortened the trip by at least two seconds. Good work. Nice one. But you’re not content with that, are you? Oh no. Another break in oncoming traffic; another leap. This time it was six cars. My God man, you made up almost 200 metres that time. That’s almost five seconds. Oh, but wait, the snake is slowing for a township. It’s not your township though, so just about at the end of the speed reduction, you gun it again. This time you jump around 500 metres and what’s more, you’re now in the clear – travelling at 110kph. Well done. Gosh, you sure proved me wrong. But wait, oh no, around the next bend – which of course you take at 100kph – the traffic’s all backed up again. This time you’re really hard on the anchors. Now you’re down to 60. This is unbelievable. Your town is on the horizon, you can practically taste that cool beer, but you’re creeping home at a meagre 60kph with no opportunity to pass. Five minutes of this is about all you can stand. You feel as though you’re going insane. You’ve become so agitated that you’ve smoked three cigarettes in that time then just to pour iodine in that gaping wound of yours, you glance up to your rear view mirror, to see the line of cars that you used every modicum of your motoring expertise to overtake, has now caught up and you can actually make out the smiling driver of that car you passed when first leaving the city. How the hell did that happen? You turn the mirror to gaze upon your own twisted reflection; then wrench it back around to the driver of the trailing vehicle. How much do you want to punch him in his smug little face right now?

Analytically, as well as reaching near heart attack levels of anxiety and possibly ruining Friday afternoon beer o’clock, during that drive home, you’ve used perhaps three times the fuel as that complacent motorist, so content was he just to sit back and wait; knowing, understanding, that providing he didn’t stop – thereby giving up his vertebra in the inexorable python – all of the cars comprising that line of traffic would indeed arrive home, safely, and within just a few minutes of each other.