The Hexacoto

Listening to the sound of one hand clapping

The forgotten news

Today, we have two headlines from Asia:

North Korean Defectors Tell U.N. Panel of Prison Camp Abuses

Tank Has Leaked Tons of Contaminated Water at Japan Nuclear Site

When was the last time the news talked about either North Korea or of the Fukushima nuclear plants? After the buzz over Kim Jong Un succession and vague threats made died down, after the outcries at the displacement of citizens and the following nuclear contamination have but settled, what now? No one pays attention to these countries any more, because these stories are not shared around on the internet as much as they were when the events freshly happened.

That is the way the news work, I suppose. It is as much the news creating what the readers want to read as it is the news telling readers what to read.

It makes one wonder what is the point of being up-to-date with global news unless one was directly affected by it, or has vested in it. What is the point of me being aware that the Fukushima debacle isn’t yet resolved, and that Kim Jong Un, while no longer relevant to the current interest of the American public, represents a continuation of a long history of human rights abuses?

Other than the self-satisfaction of knowing that I know what’s happening around the world, what’s the value of that knowledge? Conversation fodder? Surely the news must be worth more than that.

I think being involved in world news is part of what being a global citizen is about — that we’re connected, and that as humans we care for each other, no matter how remote.


Beseechment of an ice cube tray

icetrayIt was the summer and you had an intense love affair with me. “I need you,” you told me. And you saw me every single day, sometimes more than once each day. “I don’t know how I can live without you,” you’d whisper, and go for drinks with me. Together, we braved the New York brutal summer.

Once, the building you live in turned off your water because of some issue with the plumbing. You came home to find yourself unable to even pour yourself a glass of water from the taps. Helpless, you turned to me, and asked for my help. I provided whatever little I could as you sat down with me, and waited. Eventually I was able to help, and you managed to get yourself one glass of refreshing, cool water.

Now that summer is over, and we’re going headlong into fall, you forget that I exist. Your daily excursions with me became every other day, and now it’s been a over a week and you’ve yet to make a calling at my place. Sometimes you’re in the neighbourhood, but you never even say “Hi.”

I have been relegated to — what would be the opposite of a ‘fair-weather friend’ — a foul-weather friend? That you’d come calling only when you have need of me?

I shudder to even think about what comes in winter.


Long live the king

It seems I have a penchant for really badly animated videos set to popular culture, but I find thisĀ rather funny.