My source today will be from Prof. Andrei Oțetea’s A Concise History of Romania (English edition edited by Andrew MacKenzie), published at Robert Hall Limited, London. Here it goes…

Romanian history is not a chronicle of kings and queens such as British children, learning the history of their own country, once had to commit to memory. True, there were Dacian kings, but the last of these, Decebalus, took his own life when his forces were overwhelmed by the Roman Emperor Trajan in A.D. 106. When the Emperor Aurelian withdrew from Dacia in A.D. 271 a long period of chaos followed until the separate principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia emerged in the fourteenth century. These to principalities merged under A.I. Cuza in 1859 and he may be said to be the first prince of Romania. His reign, however, was brief; he was deposed, and in 1866 Prince Charles de Hohenzollern Sigmaringen, an officer in the Prussian army, was elected Prince of Romania. He was crowned king in 1881. His descendant, King Michale, abdicated in 1947, so the reign of the Hohenzollern kings may be said to be a comparatively brief one. (pp 15-16)

So… From here we understand that between 106 A.D. and 1866 there was a monarchic void in the land which will become Romania. No Kings, no Queens, no Princes and Princesses. Just a brief mention of something in the fourteenth century.

As I point out in Romanian Journey, the religious situation in present-day Romania requires some explanation. According to the Constitution, freedom of religious worship is guaranteed to all Romanian citizens [My Comment: all except Greek Catholic and anybody who disses the regime]. The largest Church in Romania is still the Orthodox, to which eighty per cent of the believers belong, followed by the Roman Catholic (1,300,000 members) and by the reformed Reformed (Presbyterian), with between 700,000 and 800,000 members, an indication that this Church has maintained its strength during the past fifty years. The bulk of the worshippers at Roman Catholic and Reformed Churches are Hungarians. A decree acknowledges freedom of organization for fourteen religious bodies: the Romanian Orthodox Church, the Armenian Gregorian Church, the Old Rite Christian Church, the Evangelical Church, the Lutheran Synodal Presbyterian Church, The Reformed Church (Calvinist), the Unitarian Church, the Christian Baptist Cult, the Seventh Day Adventist Cult, the Pentecostal cult, the Christian Cult according to the Gospel, the Jewish Cult and the Muslim Cult. The Serbian Orthodox Vicariate also operates within the law. (25)

These Churches (or Cults as the Romanian Government terms them) have advantages which are unknown to their counterparts in the West. Not only does the State pay one-third of the salaries of the clergy but it repairs their churches, usually with the help of the congregation, and it also builds new churches for them. (26)

Umm… blowing bubbles in the pond, are we? This freedom of religion idea is similar to the equality between sexes as promoted by the Ceausescu regime: all people are equal, but family planning (not to say abortion!), any deviation from the norm is strictly forbidden! Oh, and not to mention the utter lack of reference to the Greek Catholic Church!

In recent years, under the influence of tourism and Western films and television serials, the regime has become much more relaxed than it was. Further relaxation can be expected if the international situation does not deteriorate. (33)

Yes, indeed, it was relaxed. The fact that it was the worst decade of Communist Romania as an established regime, but it was the poorest (not as poor & “relaxed” as North Korea, but not too far from it – and guess from whom Ceausescu took inspiration in his latter years?)

And some classic quotes taken from here and there:

Romania’s political regime during that period between the two World Wars became involved in the tightening of the domination of the big industrial and financial bourgeoisie, and this gave a reactionary character to the power of state. (437)

The Romanian Communist party considered King Carol’s dictatorship as a profoundly anti-popular regime and the expression of Romanian reactionary circles. The Party documents, however, pointed out that Carol’s dictatorship should not be taken for a fascist dictatorship and that the main enemy was the Iron Guard.

Starting from this premise, the Communist Party established in June, 1938, a programme of action which included a number of economic, social, and political measures designed to re-establish the political picture of 1936 and unite all the patriotic forces in order to strengthen the resistance capacity of the Romanian people against the danger of a joint Nazi-Horthy aggression. (467)

THE victory of the anti-fascist insurrection of August, 1944, opened up a new era in Romania’s history. It was the beginning of a popular revolution in the course of which Romanian society underwent constant transformation. The Romanian Communist Party, which had been formed in 1921 but was forced underground, was now in a strong position to influence events with the help of the Russian liberators. (498)

I can quite understand that many Romanians want to emigrate, attracted by an easier life and the profusion of consumer goods in the West, and I can also understand why their leaders want them to stay and help in the reconstruction of their country, pillaged for centuries by the Turks and, more recently, by the Nazis. How this will work out remains to be seen. [my note: Revolution, baby!] (557)

And a last one:

Romanian is still grappling with her problems in these years of world recession, and her planners would be the first to admit that some aspects of the economy, such as those connected with the energy and agriculture, show shortcomings that have yet to be overcome. If peace can be maintained, the future for Romania is surely bright. (558)

So… Again, for those of you who are not familiar with this kind of language, it is not only a truncated view presented to unsuspecting readers (All’s well in the Eastern front), written in a time when Ceaușescu was shaking hands with leaders from both the Iron Curtain and the (so-called) West. I am more than open to (counter-)arguments to this post, but if you have quotes or links that would support my claim, I’d be even happier to add them here.

Thank you, and God bless … [insert country/person/doctrine]!

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Cover of Anything We Love Can be Saved

As I was reading Alice Walker (best known for her book The Color Purple) collection of essays entitled Anything We Love Can Be Saved, I thought her ideas only represented me on an abstract – perhaps metaphorical level. I can relate to her situation only in certain aspects, others I can’t even begin to understand. In my opinion, she is rather centred around a purpose and she definitely has a leit-motif (the Goddess, for example), but, as I said, I don’t fully understand her situation, so I won’t be judging her for some linguistic clichés (I know I have mine, and I’m pretty sure each individual, social/enthic group or country has plenty as well!).

In any case, from the whole book, I chose an essay that I think is still very much current, even after fourteen years. It’s about Christmas and its sometimes empty, sometimes ideologically charged stories. First, the subtitle is quite interesting and very much poetic: “seed catalogs like paper flowers”.

For those who don’t know much about Alice Walker, in short, she is one of the strongest voices in African-American (women’s) emancipation and self-determination and she is also involved in projects that go beyond the United States’ borders (Africa, for instance – only in this book, there is a very interesting essay about conferences against clitoridectomy in Northern Ghama , entitled ‘You Have All Seen’. If the Women of the World were Comfortable, This would be a Comfortable World, and the ordeal Winnie Mandela has gone through as compared with Zora Neal Hurdston, entitled How Long Shall They Torture Our Mothers? The Trials of Winnie Mandela. The Stone we’ve come to throw - anyway, if you’re interested, here is some more general info about her).

As for many people who have been forced into celebrating characters and holidays that not only don’t represent them, but they actually depict their oppressor, there is no surprise Walker’s stand on Christmas is not at all the usual ”Do they know it’s Christmas time” type (and yes, there is no snow in Africa – mostly, at least – and I’d say the locals couldn’t care less, as I’m not weeping over the fact the lion is not part of Romania‘s natural fauna). In fact, her true image of Christmas, she admits, came after she moved to the West Coast. Until that, her idea of Christmas was of “ritual killing” of trees (like the one with turkeys on Thanksgiving):

I was sickened by the thought of all those stumps, all those bleeding necks, and by the message given to children that it is okay to sacrifice living beings in order to celebrate the birth of a sacred person, Jesus Christ, who was himself against killing. (98)

Still, this was very different from her childhood view on Christmas. Growing up in a geographically, racially and socially disadvantaged area, namely that of the “rural black Southern community” (98),  she knew only one benevolent and generous white man – except for Jesus – and that was Santa Claus. Her memories of Christmas as a child are even more touching  as they are authentic and still vivid in her mind:

This was done with such enthusiasm and tenderness – and Santa’s rosy cheeks were described with such bemuse accuracy – that as a three-year-old one Christmas morning, I announced I’d actually seen him the night before, as he stole about the house, sampling the pies and cakes my mother always made and left out for him, and filling our shoeboxes and brown paper bags with apples, raisins, oranges, and nuts. (98-9)

Interestingly enough, the “presents” Santa gives these children are very similar to the traditional presents children would get after carolling in Romanian villages (especially nuts). Are there any other such traditions around the world? Is that only a sign of despondency, or something that lies deeper in the African-American soul?

Then, Walker goes on asking if the exactly reversed situation - if white children would too “once a year welcome a stealthily moving large black man into their sleeping houses in the middle of the night” (99), which is quite a difficult idea for many – white people – to cope with.

As she grew up and went to college she began to intellectualize what she has lived until then: not exactly slavery any more, but white ruling over black still very much vivid. She recalls the discriminations she faced as she was a child and her anger went towards her parents for worshipping Santa Claus:

Until I realized that, like the white figure of Christ, whom they also appeared to worship, Santa Claus represented an ideal person who was compelled to be white (in a society in which the country’s president, the mayors of towns, and the police were also white), and that their intention in accepting him was to help us all remember that there could indeed be an ideal white man, worthy of friendliness and tender regard (in a setting where not one white man was known to fit Santa’s merry, adventuresome, and undiscriminating description). (99)

In other words, the purpose of this imposed good-white-man was to instill “a degree of hope” (99) to the populations that had none, and were not supposed to have a real opportunity for a better life.

After Walker moved to Northern California, she began barricading herself from “the hectic shopping days that Christmas has become for so many” (99), doing anything but the usual Christmas activities. Then she discovered exactly what Christmas was: the winter solstice (celebrated on 21-22 December), “when the sun, having gone as far south as it ever gets, begins to move back north” (100), in other words, the light’s return on the Northern Hemisphere, as a friend of hers described it. Therefore, originally, the celebration had nothing to do with the birth of Jesus Christ:

In a way you could say it is the first day spring becomes possible. The birth of Jesus has been affixed to the seeming rebirth of the sun, but the rebirth of the sun has been worshipped since many millennia before Christ. Undoubtedly, it has been worshipped, by plants and single-cell animals, since the very beginning of the planet’s life. (100)

Well, even if the supposition is a bit far-fetched – in the sense that I don’t think animals consider celebrations necessary, they follow their own schedule, but I’ve never seen them on a festival, such as us, humans.

In any case, this idea changed Walker’s whole idea and feeling about Christmas and the way she celebrates it, as well. Her usual way of celebrating (at least around 1997) is (was) going to the sauna, vegetarian feasting, music (making and dancing) along with her friends. What she denies without any space for doubt is killing, as she now celebrates the Winter Solstice:

For me, the excitement about the sun’s return begins to build several days in advance of the winter solstice, and my celebration consists of  a heightened awareness of the losing ground of winter, no matter how cold the days might be, and an intense expectation of the day itself, which, when it arrives, is greeted by my face turned up to the (if I’m lucky) sunny heavens. The days after are spent in quiet appreciation of the possibility of another spring (my favorite of all seasons) and thoughts of seeds and planting. I lie late in bed, thinking of the sun as of a long-travelling friend who is at last coming back home to me, my collection of seed catalogs covering me like paper flowers. (100)

Walker still admits of thinking about Christmas as Jesus’ birthday (sometimes), but she has lost all confidence in Santa Claus. It is actually for her a “rebirthday” - for the whole world, including the author herself.

I found this essay interesting in the sense that what is nowadays marketed as Christmas is mainly an artificial (mostly plastic) US/Hollywood invention that is being imposed on everybody – whether you’ve been actually celebrating it for a longer time than Uncle Sam himself (pun intended!).

What I’d like to draw attention on is that actual history of Christmas, connected not only with Christ, but with Mithra and the Saturnalia, and all that is not mentioned in morally correct histories of the Roman Empire and Beyond. Ask yourselves, before Christmas was imposed as a family-holiday, why was it forbidden for years – even in England!

What is Christmas to you? For me it’s more than a holiday and Santa, it’s the feeling of being with the family. I guess it depends on everybody, but for me it’s the ideal time to be peaceful and spend quality time at home. And play Santa too!

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With such a long and complicated (but cutely suggestive, right) title, you may wonder what I am on about right now. Well, I came up with the idea a couple of days ago when I was standing in a Costa drinking a green at 6 p.m. (don’t judge me!) and I was absorbed in writing something very sad and serious and, out of nowhere, I hear people talking in Romanian. Now this is not uncommon in London, especially in the area I live in, but when I do it’s often from all the wrong people (the ones I wouldn’t be too happy to go and say “Oh, you’re Romanian, too? Let’s talk about our culture and share our experiences of being Romanians in a quite hostile land – against us, I mean:  I won’t get too much into it, but, what I can say, it’s no picnic being Romanian or Bulgarian in Europe at the moment). Well, for a moment I was completely distracted and I got agitated for a (short) while. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop on a conversation that was more likely private (even more so when thinking nobody around understood them), but for a second there I just rejoiced hearing my mother tongue being spoken by normal and educated people in a Costa, in London. Yesterday had another not-so-similar experience. This time when I arrived home I was struck by the lack of education two strange men (that is that looked like thugs in leather jackets) that went in the hall right before me, but didn’t bother to hold the door for me. Next I went towards the elevator. Something seemed strange. There was this blonde girl (quite sexy and wearing heavy make-up) waiting for them, and they took the same elevator. Guess what language they were talking! At that moment, I don’t know if they realised I understood every single word they were saying (some kind of awkward flirting, for a second there I was thinking why would a girl alone invite two men – most likely in her room, but I blocked that thought, everybody with their own thing, right?), with a different regional accent than mine, but still perfectly comprehensible. This time the only thought was to get out of the elevator and escape this situation. The day before I heard a woman talking on the phone in Romanian while grocery shopping, but when I looked like her I felt sorry, she was dressed like a professional in the redlight business, even if she wasn’t exactly that, she seemed so. Of course, I hear a lot of Romanian when I shop around the area I live in, and it’s mostly by normal people I could have a conversation if it wouldn’t be awkward for me to go and say I understand and speak their language (which is also my language). I also hear and speak a lot of Romanian when I go to (cultural) events by Romanians for – mostly – Romanians, but that is a different topic, and I would be deviating from the main one if I got there too.

The idea is… Am I wrong to pretend not to understand? Would it be nice for me to interfere in a conversation that may or may not be meant to be overheard – am I really justified to interfere in somebody’s personal conversation just because I hear a language that happens to be my mother tongue?

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This is an excerpt of one my my articles (click on this phrase to read the whole text) from my Helium account, which I think is relevant to the world not only relating the “Arab Spring” or the “Occupy” movements, but to the way the society is built as a whole. 

_________________________

Strong words relating to a vague, ethereal group that represents an unseen but really dangerous enemy – or so we are let to believe! – can identify a rhetoric or another for the connoisseur, but they are as liable to become a cigarette thrown into a tank at the gas station. Such words as “terrorists”, “nazis”, “activists”, “environmentalists”, nowadays “occupiers” (or as I keep hearing in a so-called democratic Romania words like “golani” – punks, “tineri” – youth or “studenti” – students used pejoratively as the ones who don’t work and are like leaches on the respectable workers and peasants who keep the country going, and so on). Using these words it’s quite easy to fall into the trap of generalized non-action and perhaps even opposition to change, unless change is imposed by the Man. Even terms of endearment can be dangerous when used in a work environment, for example in a place where all participants should be equal, but the majority is male and the women are addressed as “dear” or “darling”, or with terms otherwise reserved to the bedroom. Therefore, words are both positive and negative. They are positive if we know how to defend ourselves against them (even insults can be kept away with a shield!) and understand that a word can have countless meanings and we should use and interpret it according to a definite context and combination. They are negative if we don’t acknowledge these facts and only take words out of contexts and for what we think they mean. In any case… Is there a reason for why “word” and “world” are such close brothers (sisters, or siblings if we are to include all readers in the equation)?

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Image by Somalia ya swan via Flickr

One of my Helium articles:

It was cold… So cold. I was rushing to take the bus home through the crowds and dreaming about an ideal world in which I was the reincarnation of Bruce Lee and my kung fu was the strongest of ‘em all.

As I was preparing to cross the street, I was about to step off the sidewalk when a bus almost hit me. I backed off as quick as I could and I started hearing my heartbeat. I rushed towards the station I wanted to catch the bus as soon as possible. The station was packed. Everybody was freezing and I as soon as I arrived, I calculated where I should sit to be among the first when the bus stops. You know… I have my favourite seat I absolutely need to occupy, otherwise… well, otherwise… I’m unhappy. And the ride is quite long for me, so I need to get comfortable, right?

Well, I did that. And I saw it. My bus. Parked close to the station, empty and with the lights turned off. Everybody was shaking, moving from one leg to the other, rubbing their palms together. There was this guy listening to music on his phone, he kept dancing with his eyes closed, sometimes smiling, other times timidly moving his lips to the lyrics. I couldn’t make out the song. At some point he sat down on the bench and went on doing his thing. A few seconds later, an old lady with a shopping trailer bag sat next to him. She was obviously unhappy with his silent musical antics. She kept shaking her head, whispering something that I thought was in the lines of “Youth these days…”.

Then, happiness. The driver arrived and started the bus off. Happiness for everyone, everybody was smiling – at least inside. I suddenly realized it wasn’t really cold any more, it was actually really hot. The bus arrived and stopped, the doors opened and the driver invited us to get in.

I don’t know how and when it happened, but when the bus started, there wasn’t anyone in it any more.

“One way trip, miss?” the driver suddenly asked me. Then I realized. I never made it to the station!

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Click here to view the embedded video.

Well… I was walking near one of the canals in Tottenham Hale towards the twilight (not that twilight, ugh, I can’t even use this word without sparkly cheesy connotations any more, bless you whatever-is-your-name-woman-who-invented-sparkly-vampires-sensitive-to-the-humans’-emotions) and it just felt … umm… like poetry.

If you watched the video before reading this post, then, very good, if you didn’t please watch it. It’s basically a poem by Mihai Eminescu, something of a lullaby, but also describing nature going to sleep. I won’t go into interpretations (just search for “Somnoroase pasarele” – if you know Romanian – or “Drowsy birds” could be its English translation: find the poem here, in Romanian, English, Hungarian, Modern and Ancient Chinese). Here are the lyrics as translated in English (from that site – the version which is really nice, not the other one, *cough* Sleepy Birds… But it still can’t catch the nuances that it does in the Romanian language, it’s maybe why they say poetry can’t really be translated, it can be at most re-written, but its form and rhythm are built within the music of certain language and that language alone):

Drowsy birds

Drowsy birds at even gliding,
Round about their nests alight,
In among the branches hiding…
Dear, good night!

Silence through the forest creeping,
Lullaby the river sighs;
In the garden flowers sleeping…
Shut your eyes!

Glides the swan among the rushes
To its rest where moonlight gleams,
And the angels’ whisper hushes…
Peaceful dreams!

O’er the sky stars without number,
On the earth a silver light;
All is harmony and slumber…
Dear, good night!

(trad. de Corneliu M. Popescu)

Well, anyway… While I was walking along the water – and feeling guilty that I forgot to take some treats with me again and all the birds were looking at me quite irritated – I felt like singing this song (because it was made a song by George Popescu) while I was watching everything natural and human going to sleep. At times like this I really wish I were a poet, but for some reason I can’t find words (that is poetic words that can describe an image or another), it feels really difficult to give shape to feelings – especially if they’re complex and include a whole pantheon of elements.

Well, I was thinking that Eminescu must have taken a walk like me, some 200 years ago. The only difference? He wrote a poem, which was given music, and which is now a part of the Romanian heritage. What did I do? A blog post. A conventional blog post, with a YouTube video link. It’s not that I want to point at myself and say “Sinner, heathen, stupid, whatever”… It’s just that I wish I could write a poem as simple and beautiful as that. Plus, if in the 1880s, if there had been such a thing as blogging, I guess he’d be blogging too. And most likely not the poems and nice stuff, but normal, opinionated, perhaps even politically incorrect posts.

But don’t let me destroy the dreamy feeling I have with silly assumptions. I’ll leave you with the drowsy birds and bid you a very good, peaceful night!

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Image by epSos.de via Flickr

This is not a new idea, nor is it new as compared to other posts I’ve made in this blog (here, or here for example) or in other places, but I never addressed this issue in its own blog post.

Romanian has an expression that can be literally translated in English as wooden language. I am not sure about the equivalent in English, but this wooden language represents the words, sentences and phrases used in official/professional environments in order to express standard ideas or qualities using key concepts (such as the “turning any obstacle into an opportunity”, or even professional jargon when talking about notion blocks inserted into every-day or official conversation.

This wooden language is very common. Even though it may take different forms, according to each context and political, social and/or religious situation, it can reach a point of crisis: when it’s emptied of its original – positive? – sense, like a fly is empty after the spider has feasted with its insides.

This type of language can be particularly dangerous when it’s repetition is pushed towards the subconscious. That is, when it’s more than just background noise, it is a message that is being transmitted on invisible waves. In any case, this becomes something like radio waves: we don’t see them, but we are perfectly aware of their existence and effect. In other words, the worst threat is the one that you don’t even know of.

One of the most common standardized wooden language (in the West, at least) is the one related to political correctness and with anything that deals with or contains the word “sustainable.” The expressions were created to replace other notions that are now considered rude or insulting (such as fat, short, skinny, etc.), but have already surpassed their original positive intention and have become utterly ridiculous. I am not saying political correctness is ridiculous, I am referring strictly to the terms used.

Human beings are a very interesting species. We like to think we’re individuals, but the things we are most proud is our association with external entities (from bands to companies) and our very original ideas were planted in our heads through different methods. Such methods include as diverse sources as: repetition in school lessons, commercials, movies, music. From this point on, the notions are somewhere we can’t see, but every time we are confronted with a situation similar or identical to our trigger, the bomb sets off out of nowhere.

So… Wooden or golden, language can be quite tricky, especially when trying to express something original, or when trying (and succeeding) to brainwash somebody by means of word-repetition.

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I was thinking this while seeing different families with small children.

Don’t we all have the same problems as children?

-I want something but adults say I can’t so I behave badly.

-I don’t want something but adults say I have to so I behave badly.

Don’t we all have the same problems as parents?

-I’m ashamed my child is behaving badly.

-I don’t know what to do to make my child shut up/behave.

-Some people smile or react when they see my child. Why? Should I worry?

-Some people are bothered by my child. What should I do?

And so on…

Just thinking about these problems… It doesn’t matter the colour, the ethnicity, etc… when it comes to problems with children and such… Or… does it?

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Humans have this innate tendency to think, create and… shift the blame.  In other words, since we got created – or evolved -, we have perfected this incredibly cynical skill to make “I didn’t do this” sound almost plausible.
We have also created the legal system to supposedly make our lives less unfair. But this system, like anything human-made, is anything but unbreakable … or unsinkable for that matter (pun intended). That is, the courts resemble more a Samson or an Achilles than an almighty God.
Like in a recent case everybody can be undoubtedly convinced of somebody’s guilt, but unless a jury sees that too, without getting tangled in legal details that may or may not support the truth, the accused walks free.
On the other hand, like l for one believe happened in another recent case, the system can very well be used for political purposes. Here the truth doesn’t matter much. Power, on the other hand, does.
This word – power – is a very sensitive notion. I can be powerful with money, relations or I can simply be backed by a strong, numerous or influential group.
In another, more recent and tragical case, power was exercited under the umbrela of the extreme right movement(s) which appeared as a surprise, it seems. The terrorist was shockingly arian, not at all middle-eastern as first thought. This is even scarier for the average Western European and not only, as one is confronted with the fact that evil is not something unnamed from far-far away, but it lurks within its very core. This attack was an anti-victory: it did not slay the multicultural dragon, it actually gave it more power.
But will this solve our cultural an racial issues? Most probably not, we just have the bugbear a new name and exiled it from our world. In other words, nothing really changed. The blame was shifted to another ethereal, collective entity of which we know almost nothing – nor do we want to… right?

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ActMedia Romanian News Agency:http://www.actmedia.eu/2011/06/24/top+story/royal+house+will+not+comment+on+p…
Yahoo News:http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20110623/ap_on_re_eu/eu_romania_basescu_king
The Kansas City Star:http://www.kansascity.com/2011/06/23/2969149/romanian-president-launches-atta…
Romania Report Blog: http://romania-rep.blogspot.com/2008/02/president-basescu-in-timisoara-i-will…
Find out more: http://www.google.ro/search?sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8&q=basescu+about+…

I didn’t plan to take on this subject at the beginning. But, at the same time, a so-called democratic president … sings the tunes of the Securitate & co? (Securitate was the Romanian secret police during the belle epoque – for the unitiated, before 1989, when it was a Communist dictatourship under Nicolae Ceausescu) Bashing the Royal Family was en vogue then, for obvious reasons. But what does this prove?

Going beyond the obvious insult (recited a la carte from the How to Be a Good Boy – girls are obviously left out, they are supposed to stay at home and breed a future glorious generation for the Party and for the country -  handbook printed in the brains of so many people…), this is an intriguing – and terrifying – Freudian (Stalinist?) slip from a person who is supposed to promote a certain set of morals, convictions and act as the representative of the many. What is even more disturbing is the thought that, even though he has lost a whole bucket o’ points in the hearts of his *cough* subjects, Basescu still shows no sign of stopping his destructive ways. He’s like on a bloody rampage with nothing to lose!

Well, anyway, this is from the point of view of an insider who can pledge alliance to the King at any time. How does this appear from the outside? I’m really interested to see if this little slip will hurt Basescu (and Romania?)’s international image. My question is … is a president supposed to recite such offensive poems?

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