For the day that’s in it.

For the day that’s in it.

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That is an actual piece of The Berlin Wall. It sits on my mantelpiece at home and reminds me that things can change and things do change. No matter what the politicians and media tell us, anybody who witnessed the wall being toppled will testify to the power of people.

Ordinary, everyday people like you and I toppled that wall. Not politicians, not armies, not rock stars…just ordinary humble folk who collectively said “Enough is enough!”

“The truth will set you free.” Jesus Christ said those words long before Jimi Hendrix. Not everybody knows that. The media doesn’t want you to know that either.

In Ireland at the moment there is a peaceful revolution taking place. We, the people, have endured six years of austerity measures. Big taxes on this and that and everything. Recently our government decided to privatise our water and charge us ridiculous prices for the pleasure of having water come from a tap.

But this time the people have had enough. One by one we started to get off our knees and rise up. Marches were organised. Social media was used to spread the word. I put my shoulder to the wheel by getting onto the local radio shows to spread the news to the non-internet folk. The country started to awaken, one by one.

Last Saturday, the largest, most peaceful march in the history of our country took place. 150,000 people pulled on their overcoats and went outside in God’s free rainfall and marched shoulder to shoulder in defiance of the latest tax. Some marched for anti-privatisation of our water and others marched simply because they had nothing left to give. The cuts had taken their toll on the people.

One placard I saw carried the slogan “The only thing left to cut…is our throats.”

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The following day there was one newspaper in particular which caught my eye. It showed a cartoon scene of a riot taking place with the heading “Open revolt.” It caught my eye because the cartoon scene was an attempt by the newspaper to discredit the folks who marched the previous day. There was no violent scene to show, so they invented one. I bought the paper and kept it safe.

Fast forward to the following Friday (two days ago). In a last ditch attempt to give all who were opposed to extra water taxes and water meter installations a bad name, the daily newspaper had an actual photo of a riot on its front cover. In tiny print below, the caption mentioned that the photo was from Brussels. But IN LARGE PRINT was the headline “Water meter works cancelled” along with a story that people had started to get violent with the men installing water meters.

The mission of those two front pages was clear to me.; to discredit anybody who didn’t say ‘yes’ to the government’s water agenda. Lots of folk don’t read newspapers but lots of folk will catch a glimpse of the front pages on their way past newspaper stands. The subconscious will fill in the blanks. This is the oldest trick in the media book.

I called it! I had enough of this carry on. I called it on Friday on social media. On Saturday a few folks ran with my theory. One guy uploaded a video about it. Another did a breakdown of the front page to dumb it down for easy learning. They didn’t credit me in their work but it’s not the end of the world. The ego is the invention of the devil…(evil laugh).

Last night the video had gone viral. The other guy’s post had done the same. But I see this morning that his post was removed. “They” haven’t removed my photo because my photo and my theory belong to me. Just like the theories of the newspapers.

The cat is out of the bag. Just like 25 years ago when the first few ordinary, everyday folk made it to the other side….the tsunami of people and people power followed. I reckon this date is reserved by God for God’s people, and God’s gifts of freedom and His natural resources.

“The truth will set you free” – He wasn’t lying after all.

Power to the people! Walls will tumble again.

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/let-it-be/

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When Parades go wrong.

When Parades go wrong.

Saint Patrick’s day Hell!

That was the headline on the front page. There was a photo too.  It showed a man, wearing a Leprechaun’s hat and a fake ginger beard, giving a breath sample to the Police.

The man was me.

Saint Patrick’s day in our house was always a big occasion. We would start the day with Mass and then on to the local parade. It still is a big day but it has a bitter taste, for me at least, since “the wee hiccup”. That’s how the polite people of my town refer to it. At least that’s what they call it when I am within earshot.

Being the pillar of society that I am, I was asked if I would donate my services and truck for the parade. The truth is I didn’t want to do it. Not that I don’t like to help out, but rather I don’t like being in the public eye. It’s just the way I am. But anyway I said “Yes.” Because that’s what Yes Men do.

So, on the day prior to the parade I pulled the side curtains (tarpaulins) right back and the local Arts and Crafts club went to work.  I have to hand it to them. When they were finished it really looked the part. The idea was that it would be a showcase for their work; Knitted jumpers, Paintings, Paper mache sculptures and the like.

The day came and there were about a dozen kids and two adults on our float. All beavering away on their sewing machines and spinning wheels and what have you. The crowds were clapping and cheering like they were in New York. I was even getting in on the act as we went along, giving the odd wave or tooting the air horn.

This ‘Float Driver’ lark was a first for me, so I can be forgiven for making the fatal mistake. With all the excitement I had forgotten to fill up with Diesel. The first I knew about it was when it was too late.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the engine had just stopped. We could have gotten a tow from the float in front. But it didn’t just stop. It started to air-lock, on and off, offering me false hope that I might make it to the end of the parade at least.

To put it into layman’s terms, when a machine is running out of fuel she starts to Chug. And boy did this baby chug! She chugged so much that one of the children fell off, but landed on his feet thank God. The other kids were clinging on for dear life. In fact, one of the adults almost lost an eye with a knitting needle.

Of course I was oblivious to any of this until I had nursed the truck off down the nearest side street. I thought the two adults would have had the sense to get the children to sit down when the chugging started. They don’t make adults like they used to. When I did park up I could hear the crying which I hadn’t been able to hear over the Marching Band.

Next thing I knew there was a crowd gathered around snapping photos of the crying children. To be honest it looked as if a Tsunami had struck the float. And of course low and behold the Gardai (Police) show up and inform me that under Section something or other of the road traffic act they are obliged to ask me for a sample of my breath. I wouldn’t have minded but I knew the two cops personally. I suppose they were only doing their job.

And then the local newspaper the following day made it look like I was the Grinch who stole Saint Patrick’s day. Journalism is a dirty word in my house since then.

But time is a healer and maybe in a few more decades they will allow me to forget the wee hiccup.

 

Thank you for reading

Frankie

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/06/prompt-time-after-time/