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Paula-Mae is Head (of State)

NOT TO RUB you the wrong way, Madame President-Elect, but I was myself tremendously upset by the Guardian headline over your interview last month, “I’m not a lesbian”, and not because I thought it went too far, but because I didn’t feel it, or you, or we, as a country, went far enough: how I wish, Madame President-Elect, you were and remained openly lesbian. Read more

Road March (Wine, Jump-up, Leggo, etc)

CARNIVAL FRIDAY and Trinidad going mad. Madder. And part of me would give anything to be in the middle of it, but most of me is far more relieved to be completely away from it all.

Maybe I might find modern soca less distasteful if it were played at half the decibel level; but I don’t think so.

My first Carnival, 1974, when I wasn’t 16 yet, was overrun by Shadow’s almighty Bassman: how could someone raised on that go wild for Pump Yuh Flag? (Though I reckon I could have lost myself, and found the Carnival joy, in “Full Extreme” last year.) It’s not that the modern tunes are so bad or so empty – though, of course, there is that – it’s that the old ones were so much better.

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Radio Barrack Yard

God, grant me the change to buy expensive distractions, the drugs to endure the things I can’t change and the indifference to wisdom necessary for living in Trinidad – Reinhold Neibhur’s “serenity prayer” rewritten for 2018 T&T

OLD MR YEARWOOD used to impart to us, his form three CIC English class, his own approach to life: “He who knows, and knows that he knows, is a wise man: follow him; he who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is ignorant: teach him; but he who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool: shun him”.

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​Blockchains That Free

Part II of Crosswords & Blockchains

DOING A CRYPTIC crossword in (or from) a newspaper nowadays is like wearing bell-bottomed jeans and platform shoes: very few of us have the swagger to transform that amount of dork into retro and pass it off as hipster.

Who, under the age of 40, even picks up a flimsy, dirty newspaper anyway? Online, even the best paper in the world – the English Guardian – struggles to make money; and, if newspapers’ days are numbered, their quaint little word puzzles are dead and buried.

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Crocodile Patriotism, Real Traffic Tears

Traffic to the MaxIF YOU CAN measure Trinidad’s compassion viciously accurately by how it treats its weakest members –the homeless, the helpless, the homos, the stray dogs – you can measure its superficiality similarly by what it chooses to invest with pomp and circumstance.

And this week’s, three-day pappyshow around the burial of former president Max Richards should make anyone with any pride cringe and reach for a Canadian refugee application form.

If we had to shut down Port of Spain for three days to “recognise” Max Richards, we need to put up a statute to Abu Bakr; however you measure it, Abu Bakr had a greater impact on Trinidad than Max Richards.

Or any president before or after him.

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