And it ain’t in the ones that ain’t got no talent but think they do
And think they’re fooling’you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while’cause they know it’s in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks…
THAT STUFF AIN’T REAL’
There might or might not be a dramatic song for you up there in those lyrics but in my case I like to specifically dwell little on the lexis side and see what the words’ meaning convey to our reality. I apply their wisdom to what I experience around me and I try to see what is relevant in them to what I conceive in this world of obsessions and stupidity of fixations we are entrenched in these days. But even as I try doing this the first and only thing that looms considerably in my mind is but the picture of a wretched dullard named Javier Bardem. The wisdom of the words shockingly informs me that the central character I am trying to charmingly lampoon in this writing of mine today is pretty qualified to fit in the frame of the image inspired by those words above. So help me tackle the filthy bastard, oh God!
Javier Bardem is a failed male-stripper and a car-phobic actor who jumped out of a canary islands’ turnip track or else a wagon, in order to stay faithful to the lyrics, and shifted the nose of his sour puss suddenly from his bad character Hollywood gigs to Morocco’s interior political affairs with the big hope to get some kick out of it as he is notoriously known to love to do. This Bardem boy of old country Spain who just a decade ago was a bewilderingly slow mindless-automaton of a man is now getting shameless and foul-mouthed beyond recognition as he shows us that he is a true inner-directed-independent-degenerate Spanish Bobo and an on-cloud-nine Elmoro avenger.
So now that he gained some weight and learned to become active he effortlessly turned himself by choice into a morbid nudnik, a knight with a blind mule named Mohammed Abelazziz, on his determined quixotic quest to slander the whole national honor of a neighboring harmless country called Morocco on baseless grounds.
So determined to procure a cause for himself out of boredom or out of not having much acting to do these days he looked lazily no further than the shores of where he grew up in the Canaries and picked the closed country he could get his hand on to falsify some stuff about for the sake of wrong moral obligation. He perhaps sought in hurry to become another Clooney or Jane Fonda, or else just a plain enthusiastic latter-day St. Jude of the canaries, and he became sure that no one in this world could stop him from doing that, not even the UN. The only problem with his tightfisted endeavor is that unlike St. Jude nor the precedent Hollywood role models of political activism the pinheaded Spaniard chose to begin his debut in fields of Moral and Ethics through unethical and unmorally agi-prop films that consider fabrications and forgery as the sole basis of their mission. The name of the bogus work is Children of The Clouds: The Last Colony. In this cheesy documentary Bardem chose to embark on a propaganda style reminiscent of the old days of communist Russia and fascist Spain in times of when exploitative brainwashing and coercive methods was the sign of an esprit evolue.
And given the fact that his esprit evolue shows a preference for this particular style of documentaries one may quickly assume that had he been the contemporary of General Franco this lad could have quickly been recruited to become the head of the propaganda department with no one to contest him for the position.
Actors usually are strange and odd but Bardem had just outshined all their oddity and strangeness.
And now it is convincingly apparent that the Spanish sissy boy has definitely kicked off a new career! And what an affectionate change of heart this feather-minded canard of Canary Islands has decided to experiment with, a pure Propaganda with a big P.
We have come a long way now from days when actors used to be mistrusted and to be associated with everything negative and low, but this actor of Hollywood still probably want to bring those days back to life.
I mean where is the wisdom behind siding with a bunch of self-hating Moroccans naming themselves in Spanish, Polisario, who would never dare open the doors for professional American, French, and British journalists to investigate the concealed injustices perpetrated in the back of their large dreary alleys and or open the windows of hope in the face of the unbiased human rights watchdogs to peek at their closed sandy dungeons, and I don’t mean the ones who are driven by religious ideologies and backward sense of vengeance for the Muslim ElMoro, to investigate the slave holders in the Tindouf camps? Why side with the side that holds an entire coerced population in jam-packed camps for the sake of political scoring? Why Javier Bardem Oh Why? Why jeopardize the international security for the sake of a bunch of lamenting failed communists who want to see Morocco another Cuba run by a psycho who contradicts himself like you, a psycho who crave to wear a Levis 501 tight on his starving butt, chew a Cuban cigar in his uneven dry lips but who wants his pressurized followers to wear cheap blue parachutes for clothes as though the world circles around him alone.
How should one classify the symbolic meaning of this pointless nudnik-ness undertaken by this Son of the Canaries in isolation from a clear-cut desire for agitation? How should one classify this makeshift slandering away from the drooling desire to defile the sacred land of Morocco that has always stayed undefiled and stood firm in solidarity against your Spanish evil-intentions?
Let me remind you dear Javier Bardem that Moroccans you are trying to fuck with these days are not dumb to realize that by trying to mingle in their interior affairs through some flawed awful documentary film, in which you are acting as an apprentice director, you are in fact aiming to wage a psychological warfare by disguising your parochial message of pure hatred for El Moro under the hypocritical slogan of Human Rights.
Moroccans are not dumb to see that you are trying to hide your mean xenophobia with which Spain’s history is abundant.
They are conscious that you came to drive your ugly nose into their interior political affairs with arrogance but you have failed. But when you try to do the same next time at least set your sight high so that you can see the fact that Morocco is an ethnological mixed bag. Set your sight high so that you can at least see that all Moroccans are Sahrawis From Tangier, Ceuta, Mellila, Figuig all the way to Lagouira and who knows perhaps The Canaries too if we scratch the face of those Islands just a little for archeology’s sake.
Moroccans are not dumb to know that political interests make strange bedfellows, but they also know that stupidity in action can also make strange bedfellows. So keep hanging on with that Benedict Arnold of yours, that Judas of the desert, named Mohammed Abdel Azziz until he turns you forcibly someday into his captured European-Christian slave. For I think you are short on memory when it comes to history on that region of Morocco.
However let me assure your dear reader that I don’t know where do you stand on this stuff but in my humble opinion I prefer to classify Bardem’s folly as Dirt. Isn’t that what we call in Morocco any nudnik who tries to infiltrate his way in between the skin of your finger and your nail?
Nevertheless we are fully aware that a long string of Hollywood actors has become notorious for such humanistic behavior and goodwill, usually they pick worthy causes with rational and good sense. But one could never understand why out of this bunch there arose a zombie actor called Javier Bardem, who instead chose to pick the wrong cards and try to pass them as though they were winning cards in this prickly political conflict. He surely made The children of The Clouds film about the Tindouf Camp but he would never admit that all he holds about the politics of that region is but a big hole-in-the-cloud-sort-of-knowledge. And one has all the reason to believe that when he side-titled it The Last Colony he perhaps meant to say The Lost Colony.
So judging from the amount of hogwash stuff that characterized his last invention called a documentary if one might be allowed to call it as such, it is more than obvious to see how this giant baby of an actor is desperately trying to grab to anything he finds on his way as he learns to walk. He can stomp you down as he walks while his bug-eyed face is ignoring anything reasonable or sensitive under him. He doesn’t care if you might moan or get hurt, or hurt the free world for that matter of fact, but his eyes are on the kicks, on the price per se.
So by having a share of the lion in the production of The Children of The Cloud he obviously anticipated to propagate as well as agitate the whole Moroccan populace under the pretext of moral obligation while in reality he is trying to hit them where it hurts the most, that is the reputation of their image in the world. But still he is expecting that the film would have a moral effect even though all That Stuff Ain’t Real.
Oh Why Javier Why? Why try to take a direct unfair shot of aggression towards your Moroccan neighbors when you know they are the ones who strived to keep your thyroid gland healthy by the continuous Sardine supply to your crisis plagued people. Why you favor lies above honesty. Why you are trying to show us your emotional anemia on the CNN while the mere objective of your propaganda of The Last Colony with all its lies is but a dumb attempt to turn the hand of history on Morocco by spreading lies and following in the foot print of your Spanish News Papers who never get tired of launching fabricated stories upon their populace (Photos of injured Palestinian children were passed as children of Sahrawis in latest confrontation where dozens of unarmed peaceful Moroccan police men were slaughtered without any reason).
When one looks at the folly of Javier Bardem one cannot help but feel sad for his dumb aspiration (I was going to write ass but I spared him some dignity for the sake of decorum). And any Moroccan who has good sense should fear that this loon might come chasing him with a cattle gun any time soon.
So each time I try to make sense of his strange endeavor from the moralistic point of view I happen to realize that he is but a crook marketer who doesn’t drive but who want to sale his used car by any means and passing it to the naïve buyer as brand new. It is clear that he is a man who wants to do good moral but only by doing wrong moral. One just cannot support this principled paradox.
It would be silly to consider the suggestion that our zombie actor is involving himself in these significant justice and moral issues in regard to the Moroccan Western Sahara without some sort of self-interest lurking in the shadow of the tents somewhere. The sense of moral justice he is trying to sale to the world is clearly miss-justified for there is a huge complexity behind it, a thing which makes it a more problematic issue for a simpleton like Javier to rethink or convert.
And this convinces us that old Bardem is no way to be considered a good Samaritan out of the blue, instead he is a naïve inquisitive simpleton who wants to champion a wrong cause out of a personal imprudence.
But nothing in the world will convince me of his miserable action but the following untold story, which you may never find in Spanish history books. Javier Bardem is no different in his behavior than the central character in this little strange story, the character is his paysano anyway and he holds the same name:
Once upon the time somewhere in a town in Spain at the wretched times of the inquisition there used to be a man named Javier Burro. He was so politically correct in his opinions that one day he endeavored upon a personal project in which he wanted to right the wrongs with his own hands. So Javier having heard of a certain Maranno Jew who pseudonymously practiced Christianity but at night practiced his religion, that is his Judaism as was left to him by his ancestors. Angry like a mad dog and with a big ax in his hand this Javier went looking for the poor marrano in that town zinga zinga so that he can teach him a lesson for being a bad convert but all to no avail.
When all of sudden Javier Burro heard that the Judaism-practicing Jew has fled with his skin to Morocco he became even madder and angrier, this time as mad as a wolf. So what could he do so he can exteriorize his frustration? Well, it is simple. In psychology it is called displacement. So Javier has decided to displace his madness on the Moro instead of the Jew. And having decided upon this new endeavor the bear-like Spaniard went over the mountain and all he could see, and all he could see is a little poor mosque built in the style of the day at some corner somewhere. Javier therefore thought of instigating the whole community so that they can embrace his avenging mood towards El Moro who saw to protect the Jew from being slaughtered. So all he decided to do is to go and start demolishing the whole mosque sparing not one stone in it. Alas as the news of this maniac spread over the town some priest who had in mind the idea of turning the mosque into a church somehow didn’t like the savagery of Javier Burro, so he went and tried to cross-examine him concerning the matter. Upon just beginning to question the demolisher it was not long for the priest to get the answer for his mere question, “ Why did you do this Javier?”
Scratching his head, tongue in cheek, staring left the demolisher came up with a quick convincing answer in his eyes, “ I did it so I can get this piece of stone which I madly desired.” Replied Javier.
“ But what for?” asked the astonished priest.
Again tongue in cheek; starting right this time, the demolisher was quick to answer,
“ Well,” he said, “ I want to sit on it so badly.”
The priest wasn’t befuddled this time as soon as he saw the shape of the stone the man picked from the mosque.
Now that what our Movie star Javier Bardem has tried to do by using this agi-prop documentary. He was willing to destroy the whole temple for the sake of some weird shaped stone so he can sit on it. So let wish him good luck on this attempt. And let us assert him that we hold No grudge whatsoever against him as long as he enjoys sitting on that piece of stone from the Moroccan temple.