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No Bikini At-all

The Bikini gets its name from the Bikini atoll which was the area targeted for a nuclear test at the same time as the fashion symbol and style hit the catwalks in Europe. Western Europeans got over the initial fuss when the seaside attire was popularised by the great Hollywood divas and anyone outside the world of Talibans and Mujaheddins no longer is impressed by the appearance of a bikini in littoral towns nowadays. Not so in Balluta Bay Malta:

An indecent attitude
Dunstan Crockford, St Julians
The other day I witnessed a modern form of “lynching”. A young foreign student was wearing a bikini in Balluta Square. At first nobody said or did anything but as she decided to leave and was walking down the few steps to the pavement, a mature woman loudly screamed and ran towards her.
This attitude sparked off a crowd of around 10 persons all howling names at the bewildered girl: “dirty”, “go home”, “shame”, “get dressed”. One even threatened to throw her in the sea! At this point the foreign girl was joined by her friends and plucked up some courage. She crossed the road and took photos of the hostile crowd. Naturally this provoked more insults.
In no way am I condoning the girl’s attire but surely there are decent ways to approach situations like these!

That’s from the Times’ letter section. Which is obviously a good time to point out why it makes so much sense to have a referendum on such things as divorce. Are you still so sure about that Lawrence?

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J'accuse : Intemperate Winds

It’s a windy Sunday, or at least it’s supposed to be. That’s if the weatherman got his calculations right and a strong wind should have been blowing across the island since last night acting as a downright spoiler to whatever estival events you might have planned. For me that means that a boat trip with the extended family will not be taking place this afternoon and that I will have to forego the last visit to the various nooks and crannies of Comino and Gozo. To others, this ill wind scattering uninvited across the isles has meant a forfeit of an evening of melodic entertainment with Malta’s favourite musical son and Signor Cocciante.

Doubtless the anti-open theatre lobby will already be smirking and repeating the “I told you so” mantra about the usefulness of open air theatres and events in Malta. The crowing started earlier this week when the predicament of the European Baroque Orchestra showed up the limitations imposed by our humid environment on most instruments in open air. To be fair I did not really see the point of so much complaining when I sat through the splendidly set Midsummer Night’s Dream in the Argotti gardens (Bravo Globe Theatre people). While the occasional firework might have proven to be a slight distraction every now and then, the most distracting noise on the evening turned out to be a tiff between cats towards the end of the performance.

All this probably leaves a hung jury on the business of the pros and cons of outside performances at the end of the day although I am beginning to be convinced by the arguments favouring a revision of the City Gate plans to incorporate a roofed lot where the Opera House used to be.

Mistral

But back to the ill wind. It has been a splendiferous couple of days barring the couple of hours when the sweltering heat combined with the drenching humidity sufficed to send any reasonable man in tilt. I cannot stop singing the praises of some of Malta’s finest beaches – top among which must be Ghadira Bay. It might take a humungous effort of coordination and civic consciousness but the crystal waters and the absence of beach louts are enough to make you want to visit the beach again, again and again. Undoubtedly Malta’s best advert is Mother Nature herself.

Unfortunately we do not seem to be too keen on preserving the more natural side of the equation. It’s not just nature in the tree-hugging sort of sense. There are also more modern kinds of pollution that lead me to marvel at how tourists are not abandoning the islands in droves. Whatever happened, for example, to the rule/law of no major construction works in tourist areas in the summer months? Have the PLPN benefactors had their way again? Why does the man with the jackhammer still wake up anyone within listening distance of Church Street, Paceville at 8am and how does he walk away from his job after four hours daily of constant hammering. Does not prolonged use of a pneumatic drill turn a man into a human vibrator?

Another thing. Who, and with what divine inspiration, allowed the myriad cranes to apparate along the main thoroughfares of Paceville without so much of a by your leave? Paceville must be the only corner of Malta to witness 24-hour gridlock. The carefully planned (do you smell the sarcasm?) blockage of more parking spaces in Saint George’s Road (for Pender Place trucks to exit occasionally) must be second in uselessness only to the massive new “No Parking” footprint (at least six places) blocked out by the new boutique student harem/hotel known as The George. You would think that if new hotels come complete with underground parking they need not block a whole street of parking places.

Scirocco

Out on a boat trip on Friday (course reunion – never put 14 lawyers in one boat – which is why we used two) I could witness the growth and growth of the buildings along the coast from Valletta to Comino. Sliema is particularly impressive though not, obviously, to the levels of the Manhattan skyline that one can see on an evening trip on the New York Water taxi. A question that rings through your mind as you cruise along the beautiful waters is how much public land is dedicated to private building and foreclosed from public use. The saddest picture of them all must be the tiny tower dwarfed by a hotel in the Saint George’s Bay area. It yells for help surrounded by the walls of concrete – a fate soon to be shared by the tower at the end of Tigné Point.

One of my colleagues raised an interesting question regarding the foul smelling tuna farms. Technically speaking the area of the sea in which these tuna farms are kept is public property. How much of that public property generates returns to the benefit of the nation? Which set me thinking that if this was Venezuela we’d have nationalised the tuna farms ages ago. Instead we make do with a pittance of taxation on a product reared on public property and which incidentally leaves a nice oily trail on our seabed. Spiffin’.

Levante

Leaving nature and the seabed behind us there’s still things political going on in this island of Don Camillo and Peppone. News of Sliema’s young mayor being locked out of his own council’s emergency meeting made the headlines this week as yet another mayor seems to have to deal with a mutiny on his hands. This follows hot on the heels of the Fgura incident where another young mayor was sidelined by his own party – supposedly for his own good. Are the young studs of the PLPN stables finding the kitchen too hot to handle?

Meanwhile in Zebbug it was not the mayor making the headlines but the parish priest. Father Daniel Cardona erected a temporary billboard (we assume it is temporary for there is a temporary indulgence of 21 days from the requirement of Mepa permits if a billboard has a socio-religious function). The infamous quote of Malachi 2:16 has now become “God does not want divorce” – to which the obvious answer should be “God has no vote”.

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Now I have no problem with the Catholic Church or members thereof airing their opinion publicly about the best future of civil legislation on the institute of marriage and its possible dissolution. As any other member of this open society of ours, and as one which has long influenced its staggered progress towards the future, the Church too has a role and understandable influence on what happens in our society. Which does not mean to say that its “catholic” and universal elements still hold automatically. If the civil debate on whether or not to allow divorce should centre around the issue of whether deities approve of such dissolution then we might as well resort to augurs and the slaying of goats on altars as we read the signs in their entrails.

This is proving to be hard to explain to the weak-willed believers who are unable to come to terms with the fact that the availability of divorce does not perforce mean that they themselves will be forced to avail of it. I should hope that we will not get stuck discussing the finer elements of divination while ignoring the more secular of arguments that should be relevant to this discussion. Once again J’accuse laments the fact that the only party with the balls to take a definite stand on the issue of the introduction of divorce is the one that has been effectively ostracised by the voting population. Such is our ironic predicament. Bring on the cohabitation Bill – there seems not to be a Malachi quote to tell us of God’s will on that particular issue.

Libeccio

I’ve left the worst wind for Gozitan commuters for last. I didn’t spend enough time on Gozo this time round and must make amends as soon as possible. Last Sunday though I did get to eat at one of Gozo’s best kept secrets. Il-Lantern restaurant at Marsalforn (part of the guesthouse in Qbajjar Road) serves what is probably the best rabbit spaghetti and stew in the whole of the Maltese islands. A footballing buddy of my youth, Rafel, braves the heat of the kitchen to provide you with a five-star homely stew fit for the palate of a king. Don’t expect refined silver service – it would not befit the ambience – but do expect a welcoming smile and good hearty food that your grandma would enjoy without batting an eyelid. Sunday visitors can also buy the Indy on the way in.

It’s been a fun break back home packed with sun, food and sea. It will be hard to slog back to Mitteleuropa where the winds are known to reach over 120 km/h and where most concerts and activities are held indoors in magnificent theatres but a man needs to get bread to the table. Even if most of it is gluten free. I’m over and out from Paceville, Saint Julian’s, Malta.

www.akkuza.com returns to Luxembourg by Tuesday. Back to basics and blogging for Malta’s longest-running source of indy punditry.

This article and accompanying Bertoon appear in today’s edition of The Malta Independent on Sunday

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I.M. Jack : The Secular Post Edition

Gode di Immunità Ecclesiastica
The sponsors of the anti-divorce billboard erected by the Zebbug Parish are performing all sorts of cartwheels in order to make it clear that they are actually fence-sitters of the prime order and are neither for or against divorce. I guess it is important to know that Mega Tech of Mdina Road, Zebbug, fine purveyors of electronic gaming, have absolutely no opinion whatsoever in favour or against divorce though I am sure you could buy a copy of The Sims (check out the Guide to Marriage in the Sims at the end of this post) from the establishment – complete with married couples and all.

I like the way Jason Grech of Mega Tech used the smoking metaphor for an analogy as to why sponsors should not be associated with the message. Rothmans used to sponsor the football league, he says, but it does not mean that smoking is good for footballers. Bank of Valletta are into their tenth year of sponsoring the MFA’s premier league and we are inching towards legislation that bans advertising of cigarettes completely. That’s the thing about advertising Jason, it’s full of those irritating messages you can’t control. You should stick to the PLPN way – you give them the off the books bung and the Curia/Parish will give you a highway to heaven.

Apparently the church billboard did not need a permit because it fell under socio-religious classification which means it can be erected for 21 days without a permit. I wonder if some company is willing to sponsor the J’accuse Billboard that we could erect in Zebbug square for 21 days – it would state “God has no vote/ Alla m’ghandux vot”. Anonymous bungs accepted.

Tut Tut Flies and Aedes Albopictus

This is an Aedes albopictus female mosquito ob...
Image via Wikipedia

No new sightings have been made of the dangerous Asian Tiger Mosquito in Malta. The albino-like varmint had shaken a few feathers with two sightings in September and November. It is a carrier of such niceties as dengue and yellow fevers. Thankfully the committee specially appointed by the government for the search and destroy mission did not make any further sightings. What Malta is still full of is the local “tut tut” fly. People complaining endlessly about the heat (justified), prices (not entirely justified) and anything they can complain about in mid conversation. Speaking of mid-conversation, J’accuse spotted fellow a fellow Luxembourg dweller bravely wearing these pink crocs at the Embassy in Valletta.

crocs spotted at embassy

Driving Maniacs

There is absolutely no reason whatsoever why we should wonder at all the accidents happening this summer. How can you marvel when walking or driving involves exposing your self to manifest danger for life and limb. Students equipped with almost half a brain pop out at the most improbable of places to cross the road. Yesterday I risked a head on collision from behind in order to slow down for two absolute nincompoops who were crossing a dark road on Regional Road at Saint Andrew’s right at the blind corner after the lights at Jessie’s Bar (direction Qawra). If I was not risking a mad bus ramming my rented 107 I would have got out of the car and given them a good beating myself such was the anger they provoked with their nonchalant attitude towards safety.

Students living at the Coastline hotel are waiting for the lights to turn green before crossing. (Green for them not for the cars of course). Which does not mean that an accident will not happen there any time soon. It just takes one hair brained crosser or worse one of those arseholes who think that the coast road is Le Mans revisited and boom you have your “tilef il-kontroll tal-vettura” and “ghal xi raguni ma hix maghrufa” all over again. Bugger to all that. We should reintroduce impaling as a punishment for serious traffic offences.

Valletta & Paceville

The capital is getting nicer and nicer what with all the embellishments and road works. At least they are worth something ad maiorem popoli commoditatem unlike the cacophonic chaos that are the works in the streets of the suburb that never sleeps. Check out my funky snapshots of the city (on my facebook album). I enjoyed taking them with my little Nikon Coolpix. You’ve just gotta love the Public Convenience in Strait Street. I also managed to be in VLT at midday to witness the St George’s Square spitting to music thingy. Water bounced and jumped to Charles Camilleri.

I think I like what they’ve done to the square (whose surface looks like an Olly and Benjy football pitch) but it still will never justify the expenses that were dispensed for the launching concert. It’s benches, lampposts and a couple of water spitters. At least we can console ourselves that urban planners have finally discovered the pleasures of open spaces. Slowly, slowly.

***

Guide to Marriage in the Sims (from ask.com)

A gay proposal in The Sims (yes, it also means happy)

“The Sims” is a fun simulation that gets some parts of life right. We all get cranky if we don’t have enough fun, food, and rest. But when it comes to marriage, the game is very different.

Steps to Getting Married
Friendship is a requirement for Sims to get married. They have to have a relationship score of 70. Then it is safe to turn on the heat, by lots of kissing and hugging. The proposal action becomes available once the relationship score is met. In order for a proposal to be accepted, the potential spouse needs to be in a good mood. They can easily refuse the proposal just because they aren’t hungry or need to empty their bladder. Once you are sure they are in a good mood, then propose. But even then, nothing is guaranteed.
The Wedding

When the proposal is accepted the Sims will immediately have a wedding. They change into wedding clothes and that’s it!

After the Wedding
The visiting sim will move into the home adding their assets to the bank account. The last name of the Sim moving in is changed. Children of the new spouse will move in as well, except if there is another adult at the original home.

Divorce? New Spouse?
Once married, that’s it! No divorce for Sims. They can, however, marry other Sims. Each Sim can have multiple spouses. A male Sim could have 7 other wives living with him, as long as he proposed to each in his own home.

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I.M. Jack – The Sweltering in the Sun Edition

The Holocaust Denier, the Creationist and other Twits

Normal Lowell has struck again. The inveterate hardliner has written a letter to the Malta Independent on Sunday in reply to a previous article about Auschwitz (Reflections on Auschwitz. My personal experience). Now Lowell being a very good player of the media limelight (as Lou Bondi does not seem to have noticed), he must be feeling rather eclipsed by all the other victims of the country’s draconian freedom of expression rules. What with the various Realtà’s and Stitching’s going around there seems to be no more place for good old fashioned fascist hogwash. What does Lowell do? He turns up the ante and goes for the kill. What better way than a Holocaust Denial – Blasphemy Combo?

Here’s Normal’s letter:

Reflections on Auschwitz
Stop being a gullible fool to Jewish lies. You are doing a great disservice to your readers by spreading the biggest lie since the Virgin Mary.
Educate yourself to the truth.
Norman Lowell
ATTARD

For starters I am not in favour of legislation against holocaust denial. It is an opinion on a historical fact that is equivalent to Creationist explanations about dinosaurs. It is a twisted opinion rooted in denial of fact, true, but still remains an opinion. Holocaust deniers should be free to voice their opinion if only to be outed as the absurd, ignorant twits that they really are. We could then tell the wheat from the chaff. If we were to simply legislate against a man having an opinion then we would be contradicting ourselves. Why not legislate against creationist theory then? Or against the whole Catholic Imposition movement against divorce?Now if Lowell were to do something to act upon his opinion – say desecrate a commemorative plaque in the country or spray paint on a synagogue or whatever then yes, by all means throw the Denier into jail.

But back to Lowell. He must be craving for the limelight again and since Lou Bondi is busy preparing a very intriguing Bondiplus about Mayan calendars and the end of the world on 12-12-12  (Divorce? Censorship? White Rocks? where’s everybody?) Lowell needed a new diversion. So he hit on a brainwave. Let us provoke both laymen (holocaust denial) and catholics (denial of Virgin Mary doctrine) in one. Bingo. And the die was cast.

While I believe that the provocation should be given as much attention as a Minister’s unveiling of some marble sign in Bubaqra it will be interesting to see whether the authorities that be are willing to give us an example of their consistent and uniform application of the law. After all if the law is equal for all then what applies to a Vella Gera and to a Neilson should, technically, apply to a Lowell.

Note to the TMIS editor. I am fully aware that I am advocating for a legal action to be taken against both the signatory of the letter as well as against the editor of the paper but it is purely out of a well intentioned quest to see whether there is an element of consistency in the application of the law on the island. Should, perchance, you end up in Kordin I will be willing to bring you both tea and biscuits as well as some interesting reading. Consider this as a tiny revenge for the title of last Sunday’s editorial. Yes, thirty-five years is indeed a long time but did I need reminding?

Food, Drink and Fun

A little update on the epicurean side of the holiday. The sea is incredibly beautiful in Malta. It may sound like a tautological statement but I am pleasantly surprised by the clarity of the sea and cleanliness. (n.b. Refers to all Comino Bays and Armier and Ghadira).

Foodwise I enjoyed the military Tmun (Mgarr) and his Asian Fried Calamari seemed divine (though I stuck with the Pagella). Terraces may be nice, picturesque and all that bla but as tweetbuddy Bocca confirmed nothing beats good old fashioned airconditioning in this heat.

Il-Lantern (Marsalforn) owned by the family of my childhood footballing buddy must surely churn out the best Rabbit Stew on the island (by far). It’s cooked by Rafel (the aforementioned footballing buddy) who braves the sweltering heat of the kitchen to give you a plate worthy of the gods. You get to eat in a very homely atmosphere, genuinely local and if you tarry long enough you might get involved in a tombola session – the rabbit stew though is divine (and I am told so is the pasta). No silver service but a pleasant platinum plate for the palate.

Finally I ended up at Cockney’s (Valletta)  yesterday for a Sunday evening meal and thoroughly enjoyed hogging through my second pagella of the holiday. One thing though – Italian white wines might be good (Glicine, Gavi di Gavi and all) but I’m quite sure that a Mosel Riesling or a Gewurztraminer would wed well with the fish and refuse to even contemplate a divorce. Stock up please

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J'accuse: "Forni Gate" and the Jazzy Ensemble

We finally made it to Malta and the excruciating heat (not much change there). An early morning three-hour drive and a damned stomach bug, which kicked off its effects from 4am, did not prevent us from getting onto the Malta-bound plane from Frankfurt. Funny how you can drive for three hours without a problem in Germany but have a very adventurous 20-minute trip from Luqa to Paceville, slipping back into cussing mode with self-drive rental car drivers.

All that Jazz

Having slept all afternoon on Thursday, I forewent the traditional first dip and only regained my senses in time to get to the jazz festival (on Thursday, missed the first acts though). It’s a well-organised festival of sound, mind you, and you could tell the enthusiasts from the hangers-on from a mile away. It all depended on how they twisted their face. The ones with their face screwed up in rigorous attention looking as though they would burst into orgasmic ecstasy following an epiphanic progression of notes and melodies were definitely the jazz buffs. They looked Sterner than Stern and would only occasionally switch to an appreciative swaying or clapping – most of the time the concentration on the deepest intricacies of this genre that grows on you (presumably like a wart but nicer) led them to bearing Lascaris-like faces.

Then there were the others whose faces were twisted as though in the eternal suffering of some recently scratched purgatory. Their expressions varied from “bring back the vuvuzela” to “who the hell gave those kids their toys and why do they have to practise on stage?” They gathered in inconspicuous circles and confessed to each other that they couldn’t quite fathom what the fuss for this ruckus was really all about, and concurred that if they could, they would revive the Hector Bruno eighties mass meeting act on stage as a merciful compromise.

I say “they” but surely (and shamefully) I should say “we”, for I must confess that I formed part of this ignorant clique whose presence could only be explained because they form part of the chain of junkies of all things remotely labelled as “cultural”. Yes, we were there because the event came with a ticket, the venue was naturally and historically spectacular and even the food on offer in the stalls was more than a few marks above the clichéd concert nosh. And we enjoyed it in spite of several notes and riffs and other such noises creeping up behind us as unexpectedly as a JPO Divorce Bill and releasing bursts of cacophonic ear-bell nauseating sounds. It was, in its own way, very emotional.

Forni Gate

We walked back to our legally parked car past Valletta Waterfront and I noticed a number of tourists still looking for an extension of their night out. The majority of the Waterfront shops had already gone into sleep mode. Where’s the fun in summer with bars closing at 12.30? Does a tourist not deserve a quiet cocktail on the Valletta waterfront in the silence of the early hours of the morning? Maybe not, but in any case my intention was not to complain about bar opening hours but rather to mention my linguistic discovery on the way to the Waterfront from Ta’ Liesse.

As we ambled from concert to car, taking in the latest developments in this area that is planned to receive thousands of tourists every year (maybe hundreds of thousands), we noticed, for example the “Magazzino” embarkation place for tourists. It fits very nicely into the surroundings and adds a nice touch to the foot of the bastions. Before the Magazzino though (I think) we passed one of the many gates serving the mooring posts by the port. The clear signage announced to anyone who cared to read it that this was… drum roll here… “Forni Gate”.

Now there’s an ironic gate for a tourist to walk through on arriving in Malta. A rather misleading encouragement I would say. Shouldn’t they add a postil or something? Something like “but not in public and definitely not in hotel rooms in case some MP or other develops a sudden interest in your private activities?” Even better we could add, “You might try but we care about this more than you would ever like to know”.

An international gate consisting of an imperative to copulate? OK, the word association made after a few hours of jazz-related disorientation is a bit childish but, hell – it is rather ironic, isn’t it? I’d heard of the Austrian town of “Fucking” (google it… I’m NOT making this up), I’d driven by the German town of “Katzen” and read of Titty Hill (England), Bald Knob (Arkansas) as well as Twatt (Scotland), but I was quite sure that the country that had opposed the acronym O.S.C.E. (rejected) would make sure that no such unfortunate slips would occur in its topography.

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Censored ships

Let’s face it. Were this any other time in our variegated history, the (childish, I repeat) issue of the unfortunate naming of a Valletta entrance (resulting from an Anglo Italian corroboration) would not be worth writing about. The combined effect of various moralistic issues being presented from the platform of hypocrisy and ingenuity does lend itself to parody and satire of the not too refined kind. As I type, a local paper reports that Anthony Neilson’s play Stitching has been awarded a 14 rating at the internationally famous Fringe Festival in Edinburgh. The hard-nosed protestant Scots (stereotype warning) will allow 14-year-olds to watch a play that was rated in Malta as being “unsuitable for any audience”.

Forget the criminal code. This is not a question of protecting the infants, is it? It is really a question of being unable to look outside the cave and beyond the shadows and reflections for fear of noticing that there is a whole world out there (and in here – though we cannot see it) that we cannot contemplate with our limited philosophy. I’m sorry if I have to harp on this matter for a second week, but surely we must realise how dangerous the path is that we have chosen to tread.

It’s the intolerant attitude that is absolutely flabbergasting. Forget penises in paintings in some art gallery in Gozo. The issue is much wider than that. The issue is that in this particular corner of the world there are people who would want to impose their life choices on others. It is not so much an issue of majority versus minority as it is an issue of crass interference. There is another ironic own goal to be registered here: the craving for legislation banning anything that goes against a particular set of morals also reflects an innate weakness in the bearers of such morals. What they are saying in effect is that if such things as provocative art or legislation to dissolve marriage contracts were available, then they would be too hard an attraction for them to resist. The solution? Ban them.

Summer politics

Which brings me back to the divorce question. I’ll set aside the detailed arguments for my blog. All I need to point out here (again) is that divorce should not even require any debate. The contradictions are that our two representative parties need to shuffle their legs and drag their feet while amusing us with musings of consultation peppered with quasi-fatwas of moralistic fervour. We will have a government that has no qualms regulating cohabitation while still opposing (at least in its majority) the introduction of divorce because of the deleterious effect it has on marriages.

We have a mad hot summer to discuss the possibility of divorce legislation ever happening. Some are already giving up as the ugly head of intolerant conservatism begins to bark and rant. I suggest we focus on a wider question – the very common line that runs through both the divorce and censorship issues. Are we really too scared to look in the mirror and see what we really are? Do we really want to bury our heads in the sand and continue perpetrating the myth of this “catholic nation”? There is nothing wrong with trying to be a catholic nation – if it were one that can proudly count among its citizenry a subset of people with a set of values that can only strengthen our social backbone then it is all well and good. I start to worry when the catholic fortress turns out to be a shambles that can only be saved (can it really?) through coercion and imposition of lifestyle choices on everybody else.

‘Bieb l-iFran’

It does not have the same ring does it? I kid you not though. Forni Gate does exist and you can snap your Facebook photo standing beside it on your next visit to the waterfront. This holiday has started quite well and I do not mean to be mean to the jazz enthusiasts – my lack of interest in the genre is surely my loss and not theirs. I’m looking forward to the next week of hot sun and sea back home and this weekend will start with a visit to the sister homeland, where J’accuse began.

www.akkuza.com wishes a happy feast to the Stilla crew in Victoria. Send creative snapshots of Forni Gate and we will publish them on the blog.

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Divorce Politics

Breaking News: God has no vote

And now they’ve turned on the heat. It seems that just as JPO turned up somewhere in Zebbug (is it mass? is it the band club? the article does not help) he was greeted with a massive placard stating “God is against divorce”. Let’s just set aside the failure of the placard to specify whose God it is talking about exactly (not all have gone on record as being against divorce – and even YHWH has been know to give second swings at marriage in certain circumstances) and concentrate on the most basic and obvious corollary to that damn poster:

GOD HAS NO VOTE

… and we don’t seem to be seeing too many posters pointing that out either. Clear enough?

***

And since we will inevitably have to face the scripture quoting ministers of the Imposition J’accuse provides you with a handy guide to a clear interpretation of Deuteronomy 24 that incidentally deals with the question of divorce (both in the times of Moses and Jesus). In sum God is not against divorce, God never commands you to divorce but God permits you to divorce.

Deuteronomy on Divorce

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