It’s raining.

Today is one of those chilly, wet, grey days that make you long for a nice cuddle in bed under a warm blanket, with a significant other. You know what I mean – weather for leather! Yeah baby!

Needless to say, I am at work. The air conditioner is really cold today because of the external temperature, so we are shivering at our desks because The Server must enjoy cool temperatures. Who cares about the humanoids in the office. You all know what I mean by The Server. Heck if you work in any good sized office, you too must pay homage, loose blood, sleep and tears, make regular sacrifices and tithes all in the name of The Server. You know, just so The Server will allow you to access your machine with a minimum of frustration and crying. Ours is a black Dell, probably just a bit bigger than an average CPU, and cost our boss more than we do. I shouldn’t complain since The Server is the only reason our office is air-conditioned now. I guess that means I’m indebted to The Server, right? I’d better say “yes” in case it decides to go click-whirrr and erase this blog post. Can you tell I’m rambling? It’s because I’m cold.

Tuesday was our Thanksgiving Day, the 22nd anniversary of the U.S. intervention. I don’t like the fact that it is called “Thanksgiving”… did we run out of alternative commemorative names and just borrow one from the U.S.? What about Democracy Day (stop rolling allyuh eye!) or Freedom Day (ah go roll mine instead). I didn’t write an indepth spiel about the day, its significance, etc etc, but I see that didn’t stop Rickey Singh from doing so.

My thoughts on the intervention can be summed up as such: Our experiment with communism had failed terribly. The nation was in a state of massive crisis. The invasion was (relatively) swift and painless… well relatively so… it could have been much worse. The island was restored to a semblance of normality and life rolled on. I’m not going to get into a great debate about U.S./Caribbean policy in 1983, or any of that. Let me just tellyou what all those regional “thinkers” don’t tell you when they’re sitting somewhere far removed from the issue at hand. Grenada, following the events of October 19th 1983, was not in a position to take care of it’s own political problems. There was no viable alternative government or potential leader that wasn’t already in prison for being a dissenter. Heck! The population was under a shoot-to-kill curfew! And contrary to some hard-liners, I have never considered Bernard Coard to be a viable political player – frankly he just would not have been able to muster the support of the people. ::deep breath:: Anyway, I said I wouldn’t go there, so I won’t. (But I already did, didn’t I? I’m still rambling. It’s cold.)

Talk to you soon chickies. Keep warm today.

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About BBB
yingyangHi there! Pam Northman* (aka BlahBlohBlog) here, live and direct from Grenada. I'm a 40something, uber-liberal, working, single mother. In my time off I indulge my web, TV & pop culture addiction, revel in my attempts at nerd-girlishness and moonlight as a passionate Caribbeanista.
*looooooong story!

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I used to have a big, long blogroll but who cares about that these days? If you want to see who/what catches my interest, check out my Twitter following list. Plenty of cool, smart West Indian folks there.
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