Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Things I Loved About Gaddafi

I often sit back and wonder if terrorists and dictators only exist so that comedians have material. It’s true what they say, they are just about the lowest and most evil breed of human lady parts have had to offer the world so far, no doubt about it, but without them, where’s the humour? There's the thing where Hitler thought that you could catch Judaism if somebody sneezed it on you; bin Laden had that major objection to chilled water – it’s shit like that that makes this dude just chuckle. So, here’s a short list of the laughable shenanigans that Gaddafi got up to in his life that I love (and probably had Saddam coming in his insane pants):

The Mythical Berbers
Ahhh, the Berber thing. I was never much for leaving the best 'til last, so here it goes: Gaddafi’s attempt at suppressing Libya’s indigenous people - the Berbers. Berbers are a non-Arab people who settled in Libya long before any Arab populations arrived there. Here in Australia, when we decided that we didn’t like our indigenous people, we just tried to breed them out, inevitably driving them to an eternity of anarchy and substance-abuse. In Germany, when Hitler didn’t like the Jews for whatever mixed reason he had, all he did was fumigate them. But when it comes to Gaddafi and his ethnic cleansing, he certainly takes the cake: he told the Libyans that they didn’t exist! He tried to have them believe that the Berbers were just some mythical group of people thought up by the West (big surprise). I mean seriously, what did he think, that people wouldn’t notice them walking around on their donkeys? Makes no sense.

The Gaddafian Calendar
One of Gaddafi’s many feats of insanity during his autocracy was the changing of the Libyan calendar. Gaddafi, like everyone else that is as ugly as him, despised the West, and Libya, at the time, followed the calendar we follow, the Gregorian calendar. He hated the West so immensely and was so egotistical in himself that he couldn't just change the calendar to another existing one, so what did he do? He created his own. Even though he strangely chose the English translation over the Arabic, it was just one big fire sale on anything Western – ‘July’ had to go as it pays homage to Julius Caesar, so it was changed to ‘Nessar’ to honour this other crazy guy Gaddafi thought about vigorously in his private time; August had to go too, as it was named after Augustus Caesar. But it didn't stop there. To accommodate the crazy leader's Islamic roots, on the first of December 1978 in our calendar, he also changed what year it was so that it coincided with the death (or birth – who knows) of the Prophet Mohammad; a system similar to the Islamic calendar, but not quite. Now I just love this, because it's one thing for a leader to change the calendar to one that he prefers, but it’s ‘pack your bags and get on a plane’ time when your leader starts renaming months and changing what year it is. However, not only did he change the year, but he was never quite clear on what year he changed it to and, thusly, neither were his people. Now, that’s fucked up, I mean that’d be like if I were to say that it’s 2009 right now, but then you ask somebody else and they say that it’s actually 2019. It was pretty stupid, and insane, to say the least.

The Real Footloose
Up until now, I never realised it but, under Gaddafi’s rule, Libya was a real life, albeit sandy, Footloose town! This article from the National Geographic Adventure magazine just says it all:

“’Nightlife’ requires a new definition in a country without alcohol, where the population abides by strict codes of male-female conduct that require both sexes to stay virgins until marriage—there are no dance clubs, no bars, no young couples strolling down the street, holding hands. And in conservative country towns like Ghadamis, the subdued air feels like perpetual Sunday morning. I go in search of the town hotspot and discover it to be the local internet café, where crowds of young men play video games, enter English-language chat rooms, and examine—however surreptitiously—Western porn sites. It takes me a few minutes to notice that there’s not a single woman in the place. Away from the progressive cities of Tripoli and Benghazi, women stay largely in the home, out of sight. A local man, Mahmud, tells me that women here aren’t allowed to see or interact with males outside of their immediate family, including any would-be husband.”
I mean this shit is uncanny. It’s like Gaddafi read the Quran and watched Footloose all on the same day and then he became some sort of Muslim John Lithgow, who thinks that a ban on dancing and sex is the only thing standing in the way of a total meltdown in Libya, but a forty-plus year dictatorship is a-okay!

Needless to say, Muammar Gaddafi was one twisted and horrible treasure trove of laugh-worthy ridiculousness, and that’s the funny thing about people like him. Without politicians that sniff women’s chairs and terrorists that like water but will go on a rampage when it’s chilled, what would I have to do? Comedians would need a permanent marker and the careers section of a local newspaper; I’d have to write about my feelings; it would just be a sad, sad state of affairs - that’s why I loved Gaddafi, because he was just a psychotic dose of humour for all of us make fun of.

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