BUILDING THE 21ST AGRICULTURAL CYBER-WARRIOR
also called
FUCK PAT JOSEPH AND FRIENDS
Part of a
developing work on
THE
INFORMATION WAR OF THE 21ST CENTURY NEGMARRON
Special note: This article has nothing
to do with Pat Joseph. The fact that he was instrumental in causing farmers to
hurt themselves instead of improve themselves is purely coincidentally. The
title of this article is entirely exploitative and gratuitous. We want to thank
Pat Joseph for being the kind of person that we can abuse in this manner with
no significant consequences. And, of course,
you, for being the kind of person who reads the fine print.
I’m trying
to build an information warrior.
I’m trying
to build a 21st century Neg. The model I have (the Jason Sifflet
V9.2) doesn’t grow enough food. The other models I’ve seen mostly suffer the
same failures. Or worse. Some of the ones with the best operating systems and
the biggest memories have a fatal flaw that Neg scientists call C3, The
Cowardice-Corruption Code.
(The rest of
us don’t recognize the condition – we just write these people off a Neg
Crapaud.)
It’s like a
virus that prevents the best, newest computers from using their communications
capabilities and/or the firewalls that maintain the computer’s integrity.
The Neg
models that do grow enough food generally need a lot of updating. They’re
working on operating systems that pre-date the invention of the personal computer.
Fuck.
One way or
the other, I’m going to need more people to finish the project. I was hoping I
could do this alone. I don’t trust people. Even 20th century Neg.
Maybe, especially….
I know them
too well.
They are the
stuff that losing is made of. With maybe a dozen or so exceptions, they are the
definition AND the classic case study of what we should NEVER do again.
Twentieth century Neg (with few exceptions) are a cautionary tale to all future
generations. And the moral of the story is “No matter how bright you are,
you’re nothing if you’re not a gardener.”
WE MIGHT BE
LOSERS, BUT WE CAN’T BE DEFEATED
Okay,
soldiers, before you think I’m getting all Rick Wayne (i.e. demotivational) on
you, let me say this:
You might
not be winners, yet. But you have never
been losers.
We never
surrendered in the Dasheen Wars of the 1790s. We lost, yes. But admitted
defeat? Never. When we walked out of Morne Fortune with our flags raised and
our drums rolling, we surrendered the last fort. We didn’t surrender the
struggle.
Negmarron
never surrenders. We may lose and
concede. We die and we give them hell while we do it. But never surrender.
History supports that.
Even nursery
rhymes support that:
“When they
were only halfway up, they were neither up nor down…”
The Grand
Old Duke of York is a nursery rhyme that lampoons Sir Ralph Abercrombie, a
pompous military genius who thought he was better than any African and would
make cod cakes of us. Instead, we dragged him through a personal hell,
ridiculing him as he advanced up Morne Fortune and we, in our hopeless cause,
drove him back for nothing but pride and entertainment purposes.
We did this
after it was clear that his resources would eventually exhaust us. We knew we
were lost, but we kicked ass anyway. It was like Walsh and Big Bird batting
reckless sixes and fours at the bottom end of the order when the West Indies
was 200 runs behind and all the real batsmen were out for duck.
Heroic,
senseless, entertaining stuff. Without reading The Art of War, they knew that
in death ground, YOU MUST FIGHT. And they did it, while starving and throwing
words at British soldiers if they ran out of ammunition.
And you know
Negmarron. We might run out of anything else. But we will never run out of
pawol jettay.
The epic
generation of Negmarron made fucking Abercrombie beg for his victory. They made
that bitch respect them. Treat them with the honors of war, like they were
French royalists or Prussian officers or something. They made him kiss their high
black asses in exchange for his ‘victory.’
When they
were done, he knew that they were always his equals. With better arms and
training, they might have been his betters. Which is not to say his undoing. Or
his ignominious death at the hand of some subtly savage Marronesse.
Historically,
that is who we are: A people who didn’t give up in the face of certain defeat.
A people who demanded honor in the face of death.
Furthermore:
We never surrendered our freedom struggle.
We never
agreed to be on the shit end of any economic stick. We never had a chance to
prove that because within a generation of the end of the Dasheen Wars, British
people were, inevitably, coming to their right fucking minds. Their
abolitionists infiltrated their governments, Adam Smith wrote his love letter
to greed and profit (Wealth of Nations) and the slavery part of the African
Holocaust came tumbling down.
Negmarron
were so good at freedom that by the 1880s (i.e. before and during the Scramble
for Africa) the colonial masters had to pass discriminatory new laws to reign
in Negmarron economic, political and intellectual growth from the North America
to South America. By the turn of the century, many of our gains were lost. We
were eating shit again.
That post-Emancipation
legislation was the true sperm of the racism we fought in the 20th
century. (What the Dasheen Neg faced in the 1790s was a whole nuther thing.
Nineteenth and 20th century Neg were subjects, serf and vassals.
Eighteenth century Neg were considered property or dead. Lucky for us, they preferred
to live free or die.)
Even after
getting us to agree to end hostilities, after agreeing that slavery was inhuman
and un-Christian, they didn’t stop being
at war with us.
From a
legalistic point of view, we didn’t stop being at war with them either. We have
been in a continuous state of war, manifesting in different states (anti-war,
conflict, confrontation, demonstration, whatever) for the last 225 years or
more.
Be clear.
I’m not
trying to incite anything. After all…
Twenty-first
century Neg can do more damage with three laptops and free wifi than trade
unionists and slave revolt leaders could do with thousands of rioting
firebrands.
But, wifi
warriors, we have NEVER stopped fighting battle after battle for our survival.
We have NEVER stopped being at war for liberty.
This is both
the historical and the present fact.
And we are
infinitely more powerful now, not just because of technology, but because in
these times, the Neg know that everyone who fights to survive is dead.
Negmarron
have to fight to advance. Every single day. Holding your ground is a fail. Negmarron
have to take new ground in some way, every single day.
Which means
that until we officially call it off, it’s on, motherfuckers. It’s on.
I’m just
saying…
THE
POLITICAL POWER OF FOOD
In the 20th
century we were told that Food Comes First and that knowledge is power. So we
went to school. But somehow, we ended up with an agricultural export economy
that imported most of its food. Fail.
How did a
decent Negmarron nation like Iguanaland allow such a magnificent fuck up?
And…
How did a
right-thinking rebel blog like this even ask such a pointless, demotivating
question?
Fuck Pat
Joseph and what went wrong.
Let us think
on the political muscle of the food we grow ourselves.
Dasheen was
one of our first political power sources. The strategic planting of dasheen all
over the island by Negmarron warriors (including flocks, prides and hordes of
Marronesse) made us faster and stronger than an enemy that was more numerous
and had guns that, you know, worked.
The discovery
of our secret led, of course, to the ultimate surrender of Morne Fortune,
signifying the return of Nazism…I mean, British rule and slavery.
In the 100
years that followed, limes were outlawed, goats, yams, other fruits and
vegetables, all to deprive the Neg, not of food, but of political power. The
Neg had to work in a job, buy in a shop and live in the shame of sobriety or
the ignominious bliss of full blown alcoholism.
According to
them.
But
Negmarron more hardcore than that. East Indian indentured servants gave us
breadfruit, mangoes and all kinds of new fruits and vegetables. Or we stole it
from them. Either way…we got them. Win.
We still
maintained our own indigenous economy. As long as food sprouted from the
ground, we didn’t need them or anything they had.
Until, of
course, electricity and running water made us want to be more like the enemy
than the enemy himself.
It was an
opening against us. Science and propaganda were unleashed against our crops as
we read law, engineering and literature in electric light instead of kerosene
flame.
Coconut oil
was a recipe for getting heart attack, they said. Dasheen has no nutritional
value. Same for breadfruit and mango. Blahblahblah, blahblahblahblah…
In the end they
hurt themselves more than they hurt us with that. Now, no one believes the evening
news anymore. No one believes any scientist in the media unless the system is
out to get him. Any scientific report you see on the evening news can clearly
be identified as an advertisement in disguise. They killed their own
credibility by lying about coconut and dasheen. When our farmers finally become
scientists and researchers, it’s going to be a piece of cake becoming the gold
standard of truth in the food science industry. And we have sell-out scientists
of the 20th century to thank for that.
Thank you,
Science.
They said
our stuff was no good and gave their people white flour and corn instead. They
inundated us with their lifestyle food for profit products, making succeeding
generations both bigger and more feeble than the last.
But every
time some Ivy League smart ass comes back from his godless vision quest in the jungles
of Bongozillia or whatever, with a great idea to make millions, the science
suddenly changes to suit his marketing needs.
So this
year, we find that Gwyneth Paltrow is using coconut oil as mouthwash because it
prevents the very same heart attack that scientists told us it caused.
I…I…I don’t
know what to say….
How do say
‘sigh’ and ‘wow’ at the same time?
Sow!
Why?
Demotivational
thoughts coming back again. Let’s focus.
Given the
patterns of collusion between Western science and the profiteers and given our
own historical attestation of the political power of food, I assert that St
Lucia could have a billion dollar agriculture industry in a decade.
The only
reason why we don’t is because someone is deliberately fucking it up. Lucky for
us, whatever they are getting paid, our success in agriculture is worth more to
both us and them.
We just
haven’t been paying attention.
WHO BETRAYED
THE NEGMARRON FARMER?
We must come
to terms with the truth of who fucked Negmarron agriculture in the last two and
a half decades.
We like to
think that Chiquita fucked us.
And they
did.
But we were
bent over and greased up. What did we expect them to do?
The most
primal basic truth is that we fucked ourselves when we elected leaders who
didn’t understand that while we need a smaller fraction of people to work in
food production, the volumes MUST INCREASE.
Any decrease
in agricultural volumes must be regarded as a crisis. A failure. There is no
profitable economic scenario in which food production goes down. Not in
communism, not in capitalism, not on Newt Gringich’s Moon colony, nowhere!
Negmarron
agriculture – food security at its best – is the unsung foundation stone of
this multi-island nation that stretches from Haiti to the interior of South
America.
And in the
five island of Guadeloupe, Dominica, Laba,
Luci and Vinci this is more critical than anywhere else that slaves ran
away and formed their own nations en bas bois.
Bim maybe
Neg York. Haiti may be Neg-xas or Neg-ambama. St Kitts is definitely Neg D.C
and Jamaica is Neg-ifornia. But we in Guadi, Domi, Laba, Luci and Vinci are
motherfucking Neg-ginia.
Langley.
Quantico.
You know
what I’m saying. And if you don’t, I don’t think anyone should explain it to
you.
We of the middle
eastern Caribbean (omg, that sounds horrible) are a critical part of the
history and power of our nation. We need to step the fuck up.
And before
we even deal with the revolutions in education, health care, the domestic
economy, foreign investment and financial services, WE MUST COMMAND OUR FOOD
SECURITY.
Anyone who
tries to distract you from this is YOUR ENEMY.
LAND x
LABOUR to the SQUARE OF INTELLIGENCE x APPROPRIATE TECHNOLOGY= DIRTY NEG FARMER
MONEY, BITCHES!!!
The laissez
faire export culture of the 20th century banana industry paid us off
to fuck us good. It reinforced illiteracy among farmers. The farmers themselves
played along by sending their kids to school to free them from the land.
Big mistake.
We needed to
send the cubs to school to make the farmers more futuristic. If we did, we’d
have 15-30,000 scientists with business acumen who regard market forces as
surfers regard waves, because they only thing they have to fear is an ACT OF
GOD, like flooding or hurricane.
Instead we
have a bunch of civil servants, gangsters, lawyers, real estate agents and transport
drivers who will never amount to a footnote in human history, because frankly,
they make no worthwhile contribution to humanity.
Except the
transport drivers. Some of them.
The rest are
professional, highly paid, unethical liabilities. If they were stocks, you
would dump them so they don’t contaminate your portfolio. But they are 20th
century Neg Crapaud. So they get promoted, the same way the worst assholes in
African and South American hellholes do.
I’m not
saying these are smart bad guys while farmers iz ignorant asses.
Quite the
opposite. While ignorance and apathy are rewarded institutionally to this day,
many farmers are and always have been scientist-businessmen who succeed no
matter what Sandals, Chiquita, the WTO, the US Trade Representative, Pat Joseph,
Kenny Chastanet and Leo Clarke do. (Leo has nothing do with it. But he deserves
every slap he gets.)
You know
why?
Because they
grow food. People must eat. It’s the most unassailable business model ever
apart from, maybe, undertaking. The only one to work consistently from the
invention of irrigation right through to the takeover of the internet.
Farmers are
using several sciences at a time to grow the best weed in the small islands
have ever seen. To get better weed you have to be in Jamaica on a Blue Mountain
on the same day the American goods are separated from the local stuff.
And hear
that: ALL GANJA FARMERS GROW FOOD.
I don’t know
why. That’s just the way it is.
Unfortunately,
these farmers are still considered criminals, not researchers in applied
sciences and contributors to food security.
Some things
never change.
I take that
back. Some things HAVE TO CHANGE. As good Negmarron, we have to attack the
enemy that fights us down. Well, I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I
do.
As for those
who try to keep us asleep in the “Agriculture is dying, bananas are over”
nightmare-myth, fuck them.
Whatever
they got for discouraging and sabotaging our farmers, food security is worth
more than that. If they want to continue their secret sabotage of agriculture,
then I say we should give them a helluva more work to do. Until the lands are
freed up for farmers, rebel agriculturists must continue to do what it is right
for the land and for the people.
They must
continue to grow an increasing amount of food in and around the plantations of
export crops like bananas, ganja and cocoa.
If
successive governments do not get off their asses to help us, then, we will
know where they stand.
And knowing
is half the battle.
THE DEAD
AGRICULTURE REVIEW: A BRIEF HISTORY OF ALL THE MISTAKES WE EVER MADE
So, here we
are, trying to wake up from the myth that farming is a thing of the past. Our leaders
have fallen short on this issue so consistently that we can only reasonably
conclude that they are retarded…
Or they are
doing it on purpose.
By failing on
food security, they benefit our competitors, our rivals and our straight up
enemies. By failing on food security, they deprive us of our primary power.
Like exposing Superman to kryptonite.
But we know
that food comes first. Our history attests to the military and strategic
importance of food production in maintaining our little freedom.
So what
shall we do?
I have this
idea to revive the Annual Customs of Dahomey. Lol. The annual head business.
Except, this time, instead of excess captives, we use failed leaders. Heads
must roll. How else’re they going to learn?
But before
we traipse off to battle woulaying lapo and sonnaying conch shell, let us take
some small precaution against all the mistakes we made in the past.
Like in the
1790s. And the 1830s. The 1860/70s. The 1920/30s. And of course, the mother of all
liberation struggle mistakes, the 70s and the 80s.
Ah, Bishop…they
won everything when they got you. The Cold War, Black Power, everything was
over in the moment you fell in that ditch. I was 10. I had watched enough TV to
like Reagan. But I could feel it when Bishop died. Something bad had happened.
The Neg had been betrayed by EVERYONE in that moment.
Served us
right for following ANYONE.
1794: We
fucked up when we took over St Lucia from the British in 1793 but failed to
restore agriculture by 1794. We fucked up when we failed to use our women in
economic development and political leadership as effectively as they had been
used in war. We must NEVER AGAIN neglect the vital political, economic and
military importance of food and the MARRONESSE. If there are two things we can’t
live without, it’s food security and family.
1830s: A
generation later, we messed up when we kept the campaigns for better treatment
limited to legal battles and whispers with sporadic riots. Because either you’re
breaking the fucking law or you’re causing them to break the fucking law. But
we were neither hot nor cold. And so, when Emancipation came in 1834, the
slavers cried to their mommies for four more years of human rights abuse, so
that they could adjust to the new reality of freedom for all. And they got it!
It must always be consider a shame and a failure on the part of the Negmarron
that between 1834 and 1838 we waited patiently for freedom instead of burning
the whole fucking world down. No wonder people don’t respect us, to this day.
Four continuous years of fail.
POST-EMANCIPATION:
No disrespect meant to the ancestors. I talk tough but I don’t actually know
what cat o’nines feel like on my flesh. I have to admire those same coward Negs
of the Emancipation generation. Within 20 years of Emancipation, the black
middle class was so out of control that discriminatory laws had to be passed to
keep them in economic check. These laws were the codification, the real birth
of 20th century racism. And we messed up when we did not accompany
our civilized and intelligent debate of these matters with a great deal of
sophisticated, articulate property damage. Then, when white hate consolidated
itself into the Klu Klux Klan, (later becoming the Southern Democrats, who are
today known as the Tea Party) we failed to use the white girls who liked us to
infiltrate that shit and destroy it from the inside out. We preferred to be
scared. To be lynched. To abandon our farms and run for the cities. Once again, they deprived us of our means of
production. And this time, we helped them do it. Epic fucking fail.
1920s: We
failed when, instead of reinventing unionism in the image of our new and unique
tribe, we became pawns in the worldwide communist takeover of the workers
movement. The smartest young Neg found themselves identifying as communists. As
Leninists. As Stalinists. All kinds of stupid shit. With hindsight, we can all
admit that unions are a necessary response to the fact that the best millionaires
ever (Carnegie, Rockefeller, Morgan) had proved unequivocally they would never
give a flying fuck about workers. Worker associations are a necessary defense
against the never ending threat of slavery. But, dread: Communists were never
cool. Ever.
Well.
Except that
one guy on the T-shirts. But that’s different.
He was good-looking. He embodied something about our spirit and
principles. His picture tells us something about ourselves. His ideology?
Nobody gives a shit. It’s not his communism that’s cool. It’s his freedom
thing.
Communism
went to great efforts to make itself the opposite of cool. Censorship. Purges.
Rations that were actually called Rations. Terrible, terrible fashion, except
perhaps for their hats. I mean, who was running the public relations office
over there at communism central? And how did good Negmarron not see Stalin for
what he was? I look at the great CLR James and I think, “How did you hook up
with these assholes?” I mean, think about it. Black communists? Face palm. That
was bound to end badly.
You see, it
is a fundamental fact of the Negmarron that we have no ideology. Ideology is
like a fork or a spade. It’s a tool. You use it. You put it back in its place
until you need it again. We are Neg. We are bigger than ideology. Hell, we don’t
even have language, religion or codified laws of our own. We’re bigger than all
that. The Middle Passage Crossing might have robbed us of our true African identity,
but it also freed us from all the bullshit everyone in the world believes.
We are
Negmarron. We don’t have to believe in shit.
Except for
the fact that nobody’s going to push us around like we are their slaves. Black
communists…? I mean, really? That’s the only idea worse than black free market
capitalists. Negmarron lost their way because they were too busy fighting
something bad instead of being something real. We must NEVER make that mistake
again.
THE
INDEPENDENCE GENERATION: Remember the West Indies Federation. The ghost of a
nation not yet born. Aborted by the vassal prime ministers of Jamaica. It’s
premature death was assisted by Trinidad.
Remember the
Federation.
Our unborn
child. Our murdered mother.
The death of
the Federation might be the single biggest fuck up in the political history of
Negmarron. We fucked up when we failed to reinvent democracy and economics in
our image. We fucked up big time. And we haven’t stopped fucking up since. We
failed to take any advice from our Nobel Prize winning economist. We failed to
keep the promises of unity. We failed to take the most basic step of
independent nation building – national food security. And we put up Customs and
Immigration barriers between us where there were none. As though the criminals
will be identified by their national ID.
Now, we look
at our independent countries, all grown up, and think, “Shit. British
colonialism was better than that. And British colonialism sucked!”
90s TO NOW,
THE INFORMATION GENERATION: When the world woke up different in the 1990s, we
slept. Instead aggressively exploiting change and taking the lead, we waited to
see what would happen and what we would get. Up to this day, there are still
young people on the island with no internet access, even though they go to wifi
schools.
What did we
do in the 90s, when we weren’t sleeping?
Oh I remember.
We were on no-cut strikes. Basically, we were in the Banana Salvation
Committee, plotting new ways not to sell our own fig.
We followed
up the self-sabotage of our 1979 revolution with the self-sabotage of the
banana industry. Thank you Pat Joseph. May you never die, you fucking spoiler.
May your name echo in eternity…with infamy and vainglory. You and Dessalines
and that spoilt fucking rich little Ischariot boy.
CAN I HAVE
SOME REAL ENEMIES, PLEASE?
So…
Before we go
to war, let us honestly answer the question: Who is our real enemy? Who has
hurt us the most since the hostilities of the 1790s subsided in Negmarron
Nation?
Us.
The answer
is us.
If we want
to conquer the 21st century on our terms, the first people we have
to conquer is ourselves. That’s rough. Because history has shown that in spite
of our disorganization, corrupt leadership, inadequate self-knowledge and
foolish squandering of precious resources, we are the shit.
We cannot be
easily beaten. Ask Abercrombie. He marched his ass to the top of the hill, but
we marched him down again. For 30 days. With nothing. Not even dasheen.
Truly conquering
the Negmarron is impossible.
So
basically, we are screwed. Except for the fact that we’ve solved this problem before.
We solved this problem tens of thousands of times. We just forgot we did.
THE CURE FOR
OUR CONTAGIOUS STUPIDITY
(or HOW TO
KILL THE NEG CRAPAUD VIRUS THAT MAKES YOU VOTE FOR KENNY CHASTANET)
The 20th
century Neg Crapaud is not just among us. It is within us. Every time I attack
some Tourist Board or SLASPA executive or some foreign affairs official doing
shate, I try to remember that I am not attacking Louis Lewis or Sean Matthews
or Yasmin Walcott.
I am
attacking a toxin within me. I am not that different than them. It’s just that
I can’t tolerate myself continuing to be that way. So I fucking attack the virus
wherever I find it. In me, in them, whatever. No difference. Kill the virus. That’s
the mission. End of story.
We MUST kill
the fear that infects, corrupts and disables our intelligence. We must conquer
the cowardice and complacency that makes us fail to speak the truth to power in
boardrooms, in the media and on facebook. We must conquer the fear that
prevents us from ratting out our mis-leaders. We must conquer the fake-ness in
us that allows the fakeness in them to fester into organized corruption.
Conquer our own personal fake-ness.
The virus in
us makes us want to be what we see on TV. But we will never truly succeed at
being TV people because, it’s too late for us. We’re too real. We were born
real. We’ve been real for hundreds of years. We will never successfully be these
people we see on TV. Not even they can. There’s a celebrity train wreck
somewhere in the world every week. Because that shit ain’t real.
We must
conquer our subconscious self-hatred without justifying any of our traditional
bad habits. We have to be real. But anything real that we are better be good,
otherwise we’re getting rid of it too.
We must
conquer our lands so that farmers are free to put them to the use in the interest
of Negmarron national security.
How the hell
are we going to do that? I have an idea.
Or rather, I
stole it.
Whatever. As
long as we have it.
HOW TO KILL
A NEG CRAPAUD
The
affliction that caused valiant, heroic and legendary 18th century
Negmarron to devolve into the complacent and corrupt 20th century
Neg Crapaud is most efficiently treated as an infection.
A foreign
thing.
A mortal
illness that requires urgent attention, because the sicker you get, the money
you make.
Treatment is
simple.
You need to
repeatedly download tetrabytes of things you don’t presently know into your
brain. The fastest way to do this is to read. The most excellent way is to live
like God told you heaven was real but you had to build it yourself.
Then, you
need to apply those things you read and lived. After you do that, look back at
how you applied your knowledge and FLOGG yourself for EVERY SINGLE THING you
could have done better. This is absolutely important. You must not be forever
guilty for making a mistake, but people forgive themselves too easily. You must
remember every mistake and shortcoming well enough that it NEVER happens to you
again.
If you don’t
learn from your mistake, the mistake is worth nothing. Don’t waste your
mistakes.
If you are following
instructions correctly, you will have more new questions than you have answers.
This is frustrating for many people who expect some kind of orgasm. But in
spite of whatever it feels like, having more questions is universally
considered DOING IT RIGHT. Having new more interesting problems instead of old
recurring ones means you are probably winning.
Once you
have new, more interesting questions than you had yesterday….
Repeat the entire
process.
Again.
Again.
Again.
One day, you
wake up and the damned cyborg works way better than you expected.
And that’s
how you make a Negmarron peasant farmer, descended from the ancient St Lucian
Samurai, into a 21st century information warrior.
It’s not
easy, but it’s so simple, my 17 month old daughter can do it. (Of course, she
is brighter than most people, so that might be a bad example.)
And while we’re
attacking the enemy within…
By the
restoration of agriculture and aggressive attacks on the culture of corruption
alone, we will rescue a nation and its future from a generation of mis-leaders.
We don’t even need a big external transformative change to start profiting. Once
we fix our individual selves and kill the individual enemy within, we’re on our
way to recovering our traditional culture of excellence in all things.
It’s like
planting dasheen in your mind, where they can’t kill it. After that…
We just need
to fire some people in the government and civil
service. And do everything straight. For once. Goddamit. How hard is
that?
We’re not
poor. We’re just being foolish and afraid.
Of
ourselves.
wow...
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteGanja farmers grow food because of the munchies. Duhh.
ReplyDeleteWriting the history of the soul of St Lucia, stepping right across the centuries and tying it together.
ReplyDeleteA very high compliment.
DeleteThank you
(get it? 'high' compliment...)