First, a little derivation of one of the most recognisable phrases in modern English. ‘Till death us do part’ is one of a few phrases from the Book of Common Prayer. Along with the works of Shakespeare and the King James bible, these three works form the basis of English as we know it today.

I just looked up the full title, it’s one hell of a mouthful: The Book of Common Prayer and Administration of the Sacraments and other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church according to the use of the Church of England together with the Psalter or Psalms of David pointed as they are to be sung or said in churches and the form and manner of making, ordaining, and consecrating of bishops, priests, and deacons. I guess that didn’t fit on the front cover (it must’ve been horrible to copy out in full, back before printing presses were invented), so it’s known simply as ‘The Book of Common Prayer’ today.

It seems that the book was written and revised a few times around the 1500s and then majorly in 1662. The point is, I’m not sure who actually penned the famous phrases. I guess, much like the Bible, no one really knows who wrote it. It just kind of… appeared on paper. A great example of divine will at work, I guess…

Much like the works of Shakespeare and passages from King James Bible, phrases from the Common Prayer Book have actually become part of our language. Today, many people use phrases such as ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace’, or ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ without really knowing where they came from; we heard them as children, or more commonly nowadays in popular media. They are very religious phrases indeed; they stem from some of the oldest Christian rites!

Anyway, using a line from the marriage liturgy was perhaps a little disingenuous, as I actually want to write about the complete opposite of marriage: death. Perhaps the ‘Earth to earth’ phrase would’ve been a better choice… Oh well!

For those of you that are following me on Twitter you might be aware that a few days ago my great uncle died. Now, being the lucky kind of guy that I am, this is actually the first death I’ve had in my immediate family, discounting my grandmother that died when I was quite young (and I wasn’t very close to). Tomorrow I will attend his memorial service, and on Thursday I will attend my very first funeral.

‘What will the mood be?’ I asked the world in general, when I found out I would be attending a funeral. ‘Bittersweet’ came the reply from my friends. Instantly, being a connoisseur of dark chocolate, my mind hopped, skipped and jumped back to the sensations I experienced while eating my very first piece of 99% cocoa Lindt chocolate. Now, I have to tell you that my first piece was enjoyed in the presence of The American, so my senses were perhaps just a little skewed, but the experience was… unique. But what I do remember clearly, once I strip out the fuzzy, love-fuelled memories, was a moment — a brief, fleeting explosion — of dark and powerful intensity. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it was intense.

That’s what I imagine the funeral will be like: dark and intense, but swiftly followed by clarity and the brightness of things to come. Once our farewells have been said and our prayers delivered I hope the sadness and loss that hangs over the ceremony like a cloud will simply waft away. He’s gone and the darkness of his death will be quickly be replaced by the sparkling possibilities of tomorrow.

If anything does in fact remain after death, it will certainly be his wise, gently-nagging Jewish rasping voice whispering time-tested advice into our ears!

Looking forward though, even if the day itself is veiled with sadness, I know he will be happy knowing that he brought the entire family together again. People will come from all over the world — hundreds of people — to remember a great man, a man that was dearly loved by many and respected by all.

Discussing the funeral itself, I posed a rather silly question to my mother:

‘Mum, can I go to the funeral with my half-good-half-evil beard? I’ll be able to mourn with one side, and be happy with the other at the end!’

‘No, Seb, don’t be silly; there might be some nice girls there that you can marry!’

Jewish to the very end!

Recently, my ego suffered a bit of a hit; I was dumped. My self-esteem, which has never been the greatest due to some bullying at school, was taken down yet another notch. It’s not something I should blog about though (those who follow my Twitterings will have some idea of what I’m talking about though!); I have never one to kiss and tell. Perhaps in a few years, when my feelings have been tempered a little and my nerve endings aren’t quite so raw.

I think the worst thing about being dumped is that it instantly brings back into focus all of the previous times you’ve been unceremoniously ‘let go’; no golden hand-shake, no pension — and most importantly, certainly no more sex.

I don’t know if it’s a ‘girl thing’, but when you’re dumped, why can’t the dumper tell you why you’ve been dumped? Why is there such a restriction of knowledge? It’s the unknowingness that is the most troublesome. When there are unknown factors, the human mind starts thinking; it starts formulating wild, implausible solutions to an unknown problem. Completely irrational scenarios are computed and rolled around in your head, each and every facet being analysed and fretted over — and then re-analysed and fretted over again!

I should probably be grateful that I’ve only been dumped and left in the dark twice. My first ever girlfriend (at the ripe old age of 18 — I was such a late bloomer) dumped me without even so much as a whisper of the reason. ‘It’s not you, Seb, it’s me.’  It was only a few weeks later that I found out she’d dumped me for a guy 7 years her senior; one that could drive, and shared her love of anime (I’d sell my soul to keep a girl I love… but anime? I have limits). At least I got a shag out of her before she dumped me, though… I guess I was too good to dump without one last orgasm. Used, and abused… my poor soul.

I want to tell you this story because on the flip-side, there’s also being dumped with too much information.

My next girlfriend was a great believer in full disclosure and as a result our relationship was passionate, if short-lived; like a firework! We’d not been dating for long, but I already knew every inch of her body; and she’d discovered bits of me that I didn’t even know existed. I was so blinded by the passion — the sex! My God, the sex! — that the lesbianism really was a curve-ball.

I knew she had a little bit of a history; those performing artist types always seem to have a history. Some were beaten and some were impoverished, and nearly all have experimented a little — or a lot — with the same sex. I guess it’s all about being dramatic and pushing the boundaries a little; exploring and poking at what really makes you you.

Looking back, I probably should’ve noticed, from the complete lack of boyfriends in her photo albums, that I was her first boyfriend. I was so blinkered and hormonal that when I added 1 and 1 together I somehow came up with 69. The fact that she was a Bible-toting and scripture-quoting strictly-religious girl also obscured her true sexuality from me. Christians are meant to be straight, right? That’s what the Bible clearly says! Looking back, we shouldn’t have been having sex before marriage either, hm…

But anyway, as I was soon to find out, full disclosure and a hedonistic lifestyle were going to quickly catch up with my poor arithmetic skills.

I was on my way over to her place for dinner. I had a lovely bunch of flowers and some bars of chocolate with me, for afterward (stealing a cube of chocolate from between a girlfriend’s lips is still one of my favourite ways to pass the time). I knocked on the door but strangely there was no response. I let myself in with my key (she liked it when I surprised her in the morning, before she was awake) and made my way to her bedroom.

It was then that I heard the whimpering. Quiet, measured panting, and whimpering.

I stood there for a while, transfixed. I put my ear against the door to make sure the noises were in fact coming from her room.

They were, and the panting was getting slightly erratic, and louder.

Uncertain of what to do in such a situation — this was only my second girlfriend, don’t forget, and certainly my first ‘no holds barred’ sexual relationship — I opted for the safe option. Going back to the kitchen, I called out her name.

‘Seb? Come in, we’re in my bedroom.’

I slowly pushed open the door. The image I was greeted with is still seared into my mind today. Two beautiful girls entwined in some kind of sexual embrace. The other girl was not quite as pretty as my girlfriend, of course, but she was still very easy on the eye. I couldn’t differentiate who owned each limb. My eyes danced, alight with delight, but not quite sure which body parts I should be staring at.

‘I thought it would be easier if I showed you like this, Seb’

Showed me what? That you’re still into girls? That you were never into boys? But you let me do things that no one should be allowed to do! WHY IS THERE A GIRL IN YOUR BED INSTEAD OF ME?

I had only recently watched The Exorcist, and watching this ungodly — but highly erotic — sex-act unfold infront of my very eyes, I was very, very tempted to bellow something sanctimonious at the top of my lungs. ‘By the power of Christ I compel thee to remove your tongue from that orifice!’

Being a red-blooded male, however, and not one to bite the hand that feeds, I decided to simply shut up and stare at their yummy, interlocked bodies some more. I’m told that I stood there for quite some time, licking my lips.  Sadly though, for them,  I actually turned and left them to it. I left her the flowers, but took the chocolate with — I was going to need some comfort food after that little event in my life.

To this day I still find myself wondering what my life would’ve been like if I had dived into that bed and been smothered with smooth, soft, lesbian kisses. You know that scene in American Pie where Jim is standing outside his bedroom, knowing full-well that Nadia’s inside, looking for action? That’s exactly how I felt, standing in the doorway, looking down at that landscape of lesbian limbs. Do I, or don’t I…

I believe I was her one and only boyfriend. She sampled the male race, and it was offensive to her tastes. Do you have any idea what that did, and still does, for my ego? I turned a girl gay. I think the only possible cure for that is to turn a girl straight, which I haven’t succeeded in doing yet — though that’s not for lack of trying.

Which reminds me, any gay girls out there up for a pleasant challenge?

But this story just goes to show that there’s a mid-ground between being told nothing, and being shown everything, OK girls? It also leads neatly into a rant on the hypocrisy and outmoded design of monotheistic religion…

(For the sake of privacy, and because I believe in our rights as humans to do whatever we damn well like, some details and the time line have been modified a little. It is still, in essence, true, despite how weird it might sound. To all you Christians, Muslims and other monotheistic worshipers. or members of any kind of church — keep on believin’! It is your right to do so!)

So as I covered yesterday: I turned a girl gay.

Hindsight shows that I actually turned her straight first and then gay again, but my ragingly hormonal and underdeveloped teenage mind at the time could hardly make sense of that. It was an experience, that’s all I can say really. Be willing to experience everything, Sebastian I tell myself. At least once, anyway; it’ll be something to tell the grandchildren if nothing else.

Having your loved one suddenly find God almost pushed me over the edge though.

‘Seb… I’ve found God again; I’m leaving for the seminary on Monday’

We had both just collapsed back onto my water bed — my king-sized water bed — with grunts of exhaustion and satisfaction. I thought we’d cuddle a little, perhaps play a bit of big-spoon-little-spoon… but no, it wasn’t to be. She turned her head to me, a glimmer of religious fervor sparkling in her eyes and spoke unto me those fateful, prophetic words.

You thought you’d had the classic ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line? Well, try ‘It’s not you, it’s God.’ She didn’t actually say that, but she might as well have. The not-quite-wood I’d been secretly harbouring quickly dissipated into the dark folds of the bed linen, never to be seen again.

That must be the worst thing a girl has said to me after sex, just ahead of ‘Is that it?’

I know sex between two people deeply in love can raise you to other planes of existence and all that, but really… born again? Was that teary, wide-eyed rapturous look during sex actually her glimpsing God; rediscovering Him?

Was it something I did, or said? Did she suddenly have the overwhelming urge to find God when I grabbed the lube to prepare for a quick dash up the downwards escalator?

(That’s outlawed in the Bible, right?)

And so she left, to the seminary, her love redirected forevermore to the only other monumental force in her life and universe: God. She’s still there, the preacher-woman of some fortunate community. She has a lot of love to give, so I suppose it’s not surprising that she felt the need to find role in life where she could give as much as possible.

You are perhaps beginning to understand why I am slightly bitter towards organised religion, and belief in a single omnipresent and omnipotent figure.

Forgive me Tolkein for ripping off your beautiful poem from Lord of the Rings. It is perhaps aptly fitting, considering he was quite famously a devout Christian man.

I should preface this rant on monotheistic religion by saying I don’t intend to belittle your beliefs; I firmly believe that everyone is entitled to their own beliefs and opinions. It is your God-given and basic human right to be allowed the freedom of thought. What I plan to do here is simply state just how out-dated and perhaps antiquated a lot of our religious doctrine and axioms are. I want you to see that just because you’ve been told something, it doesn’t necessarily make it true. Because someone (or some people) wrote something 2000 years ago, it does not make it accurate or true today.

Let’s begin with the creation of the Hebrew Bible, or the Torah, sometime around 1300 BC, and the major contributing factor to monotheism in the world today.

Curiously, depending on the interpretation, some people claim that the God that exposed himself in the Torah wasn’t the ONLY God — he was just the only God that showed himself to Abraham. He may have just been the God of Israel, an idea which would fit in with the polytheistic pantheon of Greek and Egyptian Gods, and the slew of other tribal Gods that existed all around the world. Over the following years, and as more scripture was divinely inspired and added to the Hebrew Bible, it seems that the Israeli God slowly pushed out all other Gods until he was the only one:

“Know this day, and take it to heart, that the LORD is God in heaven above and on earth below; there is none else.” Deuteronomy 4:39

And thus, monotheism was born. Polytheism quickly fell by the wayside, shunted aside by the vast strength of the monotheistic belief system. Christianity quickly followed in the first century AD, with Islam following a little later.

Fast forward to today and the belief in a single almighty, all-knowing and dreadful God rules more than half the world.

Humans have long believed in some kind of spirituality. We want to believe that we’re not just lumps of meat that walk around for 80 years and then die, to be consumed by the earth; there’s something in our DNA or our physiological makeup that makes us inclined to believe in some kind of higher power. Somewhere along our genetic time track, between being primordial ooze and the humans we are today, something went click, and we started explaining away certain phenomena as the actions of Gods, or at least some kind of omnipresent force that watches over us.

With so much belief, it’s unsurprising that Gods literally sprung up everywhere. A God of Wine, a God of Battle, a God of Love — you name it, at some stage there was probably a God that ‘oversaw’ that sphere of reality. When Caesar won a battle in Gaul against an army 10 times greater than his, that belief in something greater, that urge to find explicate all things wonderful, he attributed his overwhelming good luck to a benevolent Mars, the God of War.

It is this slightly odd urge to attribute everything that happens to some kind of higher power that makes us susceptible to religion in general, and monotheism in particular.

I wonder if, when a male lion fends off his pride from another male, he stops to thank the Gods or God, or if he just marvels at his own prowess and strength. Why then must we, as humans, always be humble in the eyes of God? Why can our greatest endeavours only be realised and ratified with the grace and benevolence of God? Why can we not be great and powerful in our own right, and why must we thank God instead of the work by other great men and women?

The thing is, monotheistic religion actually had a valuable place in ancient civilisation. Most things happen for a reason, and monotheism was required for the development of the world that we live in today. It’s widely believed that the development of monotheism went hand-in-hand with the development of large cities and trade between countries — as people moved from villages and tribes into larger cities, monotheism began to take hold. In such a large, messy and dangerous environment — a veritable melting pot of different cultures  and tribes — a single religion, with a single God, was undoubtedly a desirable resolution to such problems.

When you swear on mighty, vengeful God to make good on a trade agreement, other believers of the same religion are very likely to believe and trust you. Before monotheism, trading and buying goods from around the world was almost nonexistent. Unfortunately, for the believers, some intelligent people quickly realised something else about monotheism: it’s very good for controlling people.

While polytheism was generally about explaining away unknown phenomena, monotheism is much more about the control of people, and much more importantly about the control of thought. God expects you to act like this and treat other people like that; God tells you what is right, and more importantly what is wrong.

Therein lies the rub: it’s not actually God telling us these things, it’s a bunch of prophets, scribes and priests. Not to be left out, even a few kings and emperors, over the millenia, have leaned over the shoulder of a scribe and said ‘Oh, I don’t like that bit… take it out.’ If an almighty being, one that was  actually omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent had written the Hebrew Bible or New Testament, then we might be on to something. Sadly, they didn’t — humans did. Now, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Religion had its place, historically. Sure, it preyed upon our inherent belief that there’s something bigger than us out there, but it did enable civilisation to grow, and develop. It made it possible for people to live in relative safety, and to develop empires that shaped the world we know today.

Now that we’ve reached modernity, religion seems a little outdated. It still controls what we say and what we do. Once upon a time, eating bacon or shellfish was undoubtedly risky; just as a homosexual relationship probably was too. Today, they are not. Today, religion — organised religion, with a hierarchy, with priests, and with a system for regulating our actions and thoughts — serves very little purpose. It might be argued that religion has killed more people over the past 2000 years than it has saved. It might be argued that the world would be a different, wonderful place if the intellectual and spiritual road-block of the Dark Ages had never existed.

The problem is this: our need to believe in something is so great and so unerring that once belief is instilled in us, it’s almost impossible to shake off. The most monstrous atrocities can happen to a person, and they will still believe in God’s infallibility; they will still believe that God is watching over them, and that he has a mighty plan that justifies everything.

The root of almost every failed civillisation can be traced back to an over-zealous High Priest

I use the term ‘High Priest’ loosely; it could be a king, emperor, president or anyone that is buoyed up by the belief of a religion’s followers.

The thing is if God actually existed, and he actually guided us, there wouldn’t be a problem. He would actually know everything that has happened and will happen in the future. Unfortunately, I can’t disprove God — no one can. That’s the key, the linchpin and the crux to every single organised religion: they prey on our fear of the unknown. That’s why every religion exists and why they are followed fervently — from tribal polytheism to modern monotheism — to explain unknown phenomena. Every single religion has some tie-in to an afterlife, or heaven, or hell, or purgatory, or even rebirth. They rely on ideas that most likely can never be proven wrong. They rely on appealing to that spiritual side of us that we seemingly have very little control over.

Perhaps it is finally time to throw away a God that disables and lessens our vast abilities. Letting someone else decide for us what is right and wrong, what we can and can’t do, is such a damn cop-out! We, the human race, are so infinitely capable; why would we listen to anyone, or a God, that tells us otherwise?

I took yet another wrong turn and looked around. It was 10am, but down here in the maze-like bowels of Venice it could’ve been 10pm. I’d been up since 4am and the caffeine from the cup of coffee on the plane was wearing thin. Breakfast would’ve been lovely and there was certainly the tantalising smell of food in the air, but following my usually-acute sense of smell had already led me into three dead ends.

A couple of geriatric Italians grinned at me toothlessly from a doorway. Even if I attempted to ask them for directions in Italian they would feign illiteracy.

I stared at them and grinned back, making the shape of a gun with my index finger and thumb. My over-sized canines had done most of the work, but I had to admit: the finger-gun was a nice touch. Pointing it at the pensioners I asked: ‘Dov’è Al Doge Beato?‘ They showed me, with a nervous succession of frail arm movements, where I might find my humble abode for the next two days: The Blessed Duke, the Happy Duke — something like that.  It sounded cheesy, but it was charming– everything in Venice is lovely.

Perhaps ‘lovely’ isn’t quite the right word; ‘quaint’ better describes the almost-complete dilapidation of the city. As I walked on, almost everything is in an awful state of repair. There’s something about floating in the middle of a warm and windy salt-water lagoon that really eats away at the paint and brickwork. A few bridges and labyrinthine turns later, I stood outside my hotel: a canal-side, turn-of-the-millennium building — and I’m not talking about a few years ago! My room looked out over a canal on one side, and had a floor-to-ceiling double-door leading out onto an ancient stone balcony on the other. It wasn’t cheap, but considering nothing in Venice is, I thought I’d splash out.

‘You can’t miss Piazza San Marco, just head towards…’ I zoned out as he begun gesturing wildly with his hands. It was obviously an Italian thing, pointing and gesticulating; some kind of sign language that I wasn’t privy to. He noticed the blank look on my face. ‘I’ll get you a map.’ Armed with my map and camera and finger-gun I looked around and then at the map, trying to catch my bearings. Picking one of the three paths that headed south at random I felt like one of my other namesakes, Sebastian Cabot. He’d been a major player in Venice back in the day and he’d probably had less difficulty navigating Venice than me — he ended up exploring Brazil for the King of Spain! — but I gave it my best shot. I’d already decided ahead of time that ‘getting lost in Venice’ would be one of the primary objectives of my trip. Losing myself as I cut between two buildings that were no more than half a meter apart; disappearing amongst the endless serpentine alleys, lost to the world. Venice isn’t big, but you only need walk 50 meters off the beaten path, turn a few corners, and you’ll find yourself alone, standing beneath the imposing facade of a  Gothic church or Renaissance house.

First up was a trip to to the Piazza — the only real open space in central Venice and the home of most major landmarks in Venice. There’s also a huge clock tower in the middle which, as you’d expect, grants a spectacular view of the ancient core of Venice.

There are museums and churches aplenty in Venice, much like every major city in Italy, but they pale in comparison to the ones in Florence and Rome. I could easily spend hours writing about the 50 churches that I visited during my trip, but that’d be boring! (Unless you like churches a lot… like me!) Perhaps you can now understand where my recent interest in dissecting religion has come from — you can only spend so long basking in the shadow of such an ancient, powerful institution — Roman Catholicism — before something goes ‘pop’.

Venice was home to the very first Jewish Ghetto, a Venetian word that probably derives from ‘iron foundry’, or a corruption of ‘Judaca’, the name given to the streets in which the Jews were confined to in Venice. This is where Jewish segregation all began, though this ghetto didn’t enforce labour like later incarnations around the world — it was merely separation from the aggressive and violent Christians. Set up by the incumbent Duke to protect rather than enslave, the Jews probably sought refuge there — they definitely weren’t free to leave however! It was also around this time that Jews became, um, Jewish: Catholic law prevented money-lending, but Jewish law did not. Jews also became the best doctors because most medical texts at the time were in Arabic, a language that Italians and Venetians struggled to understand.

The Venetian Ghetto existed until Napoleon came along in 1797 and removed all of the gates that had penned them in for 250 years, though some early documents could put it over 700 years! All that remain are the hinges that held those gates, but the Jewish love of money lives on! (Remember, it’s not our fault though — blame the Pope!)

It was a little sad, walking around the dirty, tired streets of Venice, a city that had once been the most affluent city state the world has ever seen. The Queen of the Adriatic was one of its many names, a name that makes you wonder just how opulent and vibrant the city had been 600 years ago. For centuries, Venice was ruled by merchants – a republic, led by aristocratic merchants, their sole purpose being to make more money (something they did very well. What most people don’t know is that Venice actually held an empire — a small one, mainly consisting of the Aegean islands Crete and Cyprus, but an empire nonetheless. They had a sizable military force, and their navy of 3,000 ships were almost invulnerable in their stronghold of a lagoon. Most were merchant ships but often converted into warships when piracy flared up in the East, or when they played a large part in the Forth Crusade — the crusade often viewed as the final schism between Catholic and East Orthodox religions — a role in a war that would ultimately spell the end of the Byzantine empire. Not bad for an unnavigable flyspeck of an island!

And the scary bit? It was all made possible with money; a leader with almost unlimited resources and support from a loyal, trusting republic:  that’s capitalism.

I was sitting in front of the TV — not something I do often, I assure you — and for some reason or another my mind wandered towards Germany. I think it was a war film. Anyway, I had a little ponder, a little brainstorm, and I came to the conclusion that I actually know very little about Germany. I also assumed that other people might not know much about pre-War Germany too! Perhaps people study the history of Germany in more detail in other countries, but I can’t imagine it being an important topic outside of Deutchland itself.

There are experts out there, but this entry is not for you — this is just a short piece on the formation of Germany itself: the 2500 years that occurred before the World Wars — believe it or not, a lot has happened there! Our contemporary culture, both European and worldwide, has thick roots that stem from Germany. This little story will wend its way from the Nordic tribal settlers to the early dominance of the Franks; from the long-winded Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation to the downfall of the German Empire at the end of the first World War.

Germany’s recorded history begins in 56BC, though for 500 years tribes had been moving down from northern Scandinavia through to Denmark and then Germany. Famously, Caesar (who was first to record the name Germania) built a wooden bridge that spanned the Rhine in just ten days, but then retreated once he heard that the Seubi (Suevi) tribe had amassed a force to repel him, should he attack. The name ‘Seubi’, incidentally, has its roots in the prefix ‘Swe-’ which literally means ‘one’s own’ — the same prefix that gave Sweden its name. The tribe that repelled Caesar was almost certainly from Sweden originally! I’m sure it’s quite common knowledge, but all Prussian and Russian kings — Kaisers and Czars — derive their title directly from Julius Caesar himself.

It’s worth noting that the Seubians were converted from their pagan rituals to Arianism in the 400s — a ‘heretical’ (after the First Council of Nicaea) sect of Christianity that believed Jesus was extraordinary, but not as powerful as God himself. I mention this only because of the later use of the term ‘Aryan’ by the Nazis to represent the one, true, destined-for-leadership master race is completely unrelated — but it’s an interesting coincidence!

The fall of the Western Roman Empire allowed the expansion of the Frankish Empire to begin. Originally a West Germanic confederation of tribes, the Franks would go on to form an empire that would span France, Germany, Northern Italy and make dependent states of the modern-day Eastern Bloc. With the baptism of some Frankish nobles, and later on the work of missionaries from England, Scotland and Ireland, Germany dropped its old Arianist ways and became fully Roman Catholic by the 800s. The aid of the British Catholic missionaries would turn out to be, 1200 years later, beautifully ironic.

Another thing that people forget is that English — both the language and the name — originates from the Western Germanic people of Angeln, or its modern name of ‘Anglia’. Regions of this name still exist in England and Germany! As an aside, while the Angles were settling in what would become England, Britons were settling in Brittany (France) — and while I’m at it (blame the nationalist streak in me), the Normans that invaded England weren’t French — they were descendents of the Vikings that had occupied what would eventually become France! Anyway, back to Germany…

By the 9th and 10th century the Frankish Empire had been divided and weakened enough for the emergence of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. Despite its awesome name, it did not actually include Rome for most of its rule — the name derived from each new emperor having to be crowned by the Pope. Not a lot happened until the 15th century when the Renaissance finally blew away the cobwebs of the Middle Ages, leaving Germany with the beginnings of a powerful and industrious empire. The 1400s brought us Johannes Gutenberg, the inventor of the mechanical printing press, and Albrecht Dürer who is widely considered the finest Northern European artist of all time.

The 17th and 18th centuries would finally see the efforts of the Renaissance period come to full fruition: The philosophers Leibniz and Kant; the musicians Bach and Mozart. Genius polymath and the author of Faust, Goethe, would be be the first writer to emerge from the growing, Bohemian strength of the Germany. The turn of the 19th century would see their intellectual powerhouse continue to grow with the birth of philosophers Marx and Nietzsche, the eminence of the piano virtuoso Ludwig van Beethoven, and the composer that would craft musical masterpieces destined to be played at max volume while conquering Europe, or in fact anyone that stands in your way: Wagner. Two of the most important and influential scientists of all time, Planck and Einstein, were also born in Germany during the 19th century.

Throughout the 1600s the Duchy of Prussia had continued its spread across what is now the top of Poland. When the Holy Roman Empire finally fell after the Napoleonic Wars in 1806, Prussia would continue to gain land across the north of Germany. In 1871, with the help of decisive victories on the Franco and Austro-Hungarian fronts, the German Empire was formed by the president of Prussia, Otto von Bismarck with William (Wilhelm) the First installed as emperor. This is the same Empire that would be the unwitting instigator of first World War. Bismarck himself kept the role of Chancellor, the one-man-cabinet, a position whose power would later be confirmed as autocratic by Adolf Hitler.

The next 50 years would see a huge surge in industrial strength and population — from 40 to 70 million, with over half of those living in cities. Germany became the world’s first social welfare state with sickness and maternity leave, and it had a free press! But such privileges and liberties were not easily come by — Germans worked hard; a work ethic that still exists today.

Back in 1800, Napoleon had been crushed by a mix of Prussian (German) and English forces at Waterloo, but how quickly allegiances are forgotten! Only 80 years later, Emperor Wilhelm formed the Triple Alliance with Italy and Austria-Hungary, its purpose to defend itself from potential attacks by Russia, France and Britain — the three countries that then formed a similar, counter-allegiance: the Triple Entente (’Triple Agreement’). It would be Germany’s allegiance to the Austro-Hungarian Empire — and the British Empire’s anger at Germany’s growing navy — that would spur the Triple Entente into joining a war: World War I.

Though it falls outside the scope of this entry, and just because I love bringing religion into these things, I’ll share an ironic little coincidence. When Hitler was made Chancellor he had to pass the Enabling Act of 1933 to actually become the Führer; to effectively demolish the democratic powers of the Reichstag for four years while he ‘tidied things up’ (this sounds a lot like Caesar demanding to be made Dictator back in Rome…) Despite the instigation of concentration camps in the hope of terrorising the populace into voting for Hitler’s party — the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, or more commonly ‘Nazis’ — they could only muster 44% of the 66% majority required to pass the Enabling Act. Desperately, he turned to the Catholic Central Party for their votes. They demanded continued liberty for the Church and their involvement in education, which he obviously granted — not that it mattered, after the Act had been passed. The kicker: who brought Catholicism to Germany? Missionaries from Britain!

And there you have it, the exciting history of Germany in 1200 words. If you made it this far — hooray! I hope it wasn’t too boring; I hope you learnt as much as I did. Now I actually have to visit Germany…

Darkness.

Enigma.

Secret.

Curiousity.

Surprise.

Paranormal.

Superstition.

Rapture.

Riddle.

Myth. Magic. Mystery.

* * *

The definition of mystery, though multi-faceted, is a good place to start:

Anything that arouses curiosity or perplexes because it is unexplained, inexplicable, or secret.

That [which] is not fully understood or that baffles or eludes understanding; an enigma.

But it goes further. I’m not the only one that has noticed the prevalence of mysticism in contemporary civilisation:

The skills, lore, or practices that are peculiar to a particular activity or group and are regarded as the special province of initiates.

A religious truth that is incomprehensible to reason and knowable only through divine revelation.

An incident from the life of Jesus, especially the Incarnation, Passion, Crucifixion, or Resurrection, of particular importance for redemption.

The derivation is even more interesting:

From Latin mystērium, from Greek mustērion, secret rite, from mustēs, an initiate, from mūein, to close the eyes, initiate.

So you can see, the concept of mystery is old and likely prehistoric, pre-dating all forms of modern civilisation. Though Christianity is the only religion mentioned by name in the definitions, all theistic religions rely solely on mystery as their driving force; their ‘hook’, if you will. That’s why those few that actually communicate with God (or gods) are referred to as ‘mystics’ — they’re dealing with mysterious, inexplicable, unprovable phenomena. Gods are mysteries, in other words.

The fundamental axiom of all advanced lifeforms can be generalised as ‘What’s around the next corner?’ On a low-level it might be as simple as finding new hunting grounds; for humans it might as complex as finding a new partner, a new job — either way, it’s about moving. Not necessarily forward or back, but moving. There are higher concepts but at the end of the day it’s exploration and horizon-hunting that really does it for us; what really satisfies us.

Why then are we so damn addicted to mystery? Mystery is the polar opposite of exploration, science, truth. But we embrace it! We find comfort in the not-knowing. We set out on epic journeys to seek out new continents and new civilisations, all the while seeking solace in the gods that illumine starlit skies. There’s something about that which we do not know.

And these mysteries will forever remain because we don’t try too hard to solve them. No matter how hard we try, a mystery remains just beyond the reach of our grasping fingertips — or rather, we don’t stretch our hands too far in case we actually reach the mystery. The moment we close our fingers and find it to be nothing more than insubstantial smoke and deceptive mirrors — we shatter. Our world-view contorts and shifts and finally buckles under its elusive enormity. The shattered fragments of mystery lay limp and unravelled between our fingers. There’s nothing there. There never has been. There never will be.

Gosh.

Why do we keep reaching? Why do we raise our hands to the sky in search of salvation and heavenly oases?

Why does it hurt so much when we find out that a mystery is really nothing more than random chance or laws of physics? Because we’re rational creatures; we feast on order, reason. For every effect we must attribute a cause.

Someone somewhere once prayed to the very first heavenly and inexplicable body: the stars. The constellation of Orion perhaps. ‘Let tomorrow’s hunt be a success’ he prayed. And you know what? It was. The hunt was a rave success. Forever after, he prayed to the stars.

Then one day, sometime in the near future, the hunt wasn’t a success. In fact, some of the hunters were gored by the wild boar and died. So of course he prayed harder. What other option was there?

I’m going to attempt to tackle the tricky and turbulent subject of racism. I’m not going to cover its entire history. I’m not going to pretend that I’m entirely objective — no one is — though I will try my best to be as neutral as possible. If I say something upsetting, apologies; this a sensitive topic, one that most people tend to stay well away from.

As always, we’ll start at the beginning. Not many people know where racism actually begun. The slave trade? No. Eugenics and ultimately the Holocaust? No. Religion? Getting warmer, but still not quite.

Racism begun way back in tribal times. Racism is effectively synonymous with tribalism, which is itself similar to the concept of nationalism. It’s all about selfishness.  Racism can take many forms: religious, cultural, skin-colour and are all equally ‘bad’ — but at one time, they weren’t. They were a matter of self-preservation. It’s you or them. Insular tribes and their inbreeding reaffirmed genetic and physical traits and thus ‘races’ were created — but even the term ‘race’ is, ironically, racist! Race is an American term coined hundreds of years ago to describe the difference between blacks and whites. It sadly gained credibility and traction, and was then exported around the world. It was borrowed from the French razza which means ‘lineage’.

Racism is all about lineage — all about blood, and the purity thereof. Racism is the act of erroneous differentiation of humans into different species. It’s about the justification of maliciousness and unfair, unfounded prejudice to those of different colour, culture, heritage or lineage.

We have the Cartesian-Newtonian worldview to thank for this little gem. For 500 years now we’ve been living in a world governed by the laws of physics. Action and reaction, cause and effect. Mechanics. Gravity. Cold, cool calculation of calculus. The control, utilisation and abuse of energy. The last five centuries have been all about physicality; it’s been all about what we can see and touch and push and stretch. Racism existed before of course, but it wasn’t the kind we see today — it was religious. For 1500 years racism was religious — though back then it wasn’t called racism of course. It would’ve been ‘persecution’ or ‘religious intolerance’.

Did you know that when Columbus first landed on what would become Mexico, the Portuguese and Spanish sailors did not hesitate to mate and marry the Indians, the native Americans? As long as they converted to Christianity via baptism, colour didn’t matter one iota. Only their religious beliefs mattered.

But that’s a topic unto itself and I’m not going to go into it here. The rise of contemporary racism is more interesting.

Let’s go back to skin colour. Other than the Holocaust, almost all modern examples of racism have stemmed from the concept of White supremacy and superiority. How on earth did those of white skin end up at the top of the food chain?

The Declaration of Independence, that’s how. But don’t stop reading yet, my dear American friends! You probably wouldn’t have drafted the Declaration if it wasn’t for the British.

The Declaration of Independence was the pinnacle of The Enlightenment. The single most important period for philosophical and scientific advancement ever also created racism. All it took one was one theory-treated-as-fact: Dr Charles White (what a name…) scientifically reasoned that Blacks were the stop-gap between monkeys and Whites. Voltaire and Kames — both bigwigs of the Enlightenment — proposed the idea of separate human species.  Hume and Kant, Jefferson and Washington — almost every big name of the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries were White supremacists.

Here were the most influential thinkers, scholars and scientists the world has ever seen. It was their thoughts, mental machinations and ideologies that formed the world we live in today. And they were racists. They thought of Blacks as not-quite-human.

And I dare say… it’s not a very big surprise that they arrived at such a conclusion.

The Enlightenment was about culture; a big damn celebration of art and science and thinking — in essence, it was a riotous exaltation of everything that makes us human and not monkeys.

And Blacks didn’t have that culture. American Indians didn’t have that culture. Or, rather, they didn’t have any that we could see. So we subjugated them. We made them our bitches. We justified our brutal abuse of fellow man by declaring them sub-human — after all, would a fellow white man allow himself to be forced into slavery? God no, his intelligence and tenacity would prevent it.

We’re talking about a group of intellectuals that ranted and raved about the benefits of liberty and equality; freedom from tyranny and the virtues of democracy and representative government. Later, they even drafted a declaration formed from the tenets and axioms of these great thinkers. They formed a new, mighty nation that, at its very core, ratified slavery.

As Thomas Jefferson scrawled out the fundament, lynch-pin and rock-solid bastion of the New World, as he illustrated his idyllic imaginings on the loose paper that would later become the Declaration of Independence… he was writing it for the whites. There was just no way their way of life could continue if non-whites were afforded the same rights and privileges as the whites. Think about it.

But it wasn’t really Jefferson’s fault. Science had told him that blacks were little more than apes devoid of culture and intellect. Or perhaps science merely suggested it and human nature enforced it. I suppose we’ll never know.

But how do we fix it?

Racism is a pathological contagion. It passes from parent to child. That can never be changed.

What we need is a new worldview. We need to shift our perspective through 90 degrees and move towards a new frontier. I hesitate to say that we need to ‘re-find our spirituality’, because there are issues associated with organised religion: intolerance, persecution, zealotry. Oour infatuation with the physical nature of the world needs to change. Never again must we single-out and tunnel-vision a sole strand of science.

What we need is another Enlightenment…

Ah, now this is a meaty one. I’m not going to name any names, and I ask you kindly to do the same. I’m going to speak in general terms and hope I don’t offend too many people. But if you’re a believer of some kind and I make you question your faith… don’t hurt me! It’s a good thing to re-evaluate your environment occasionally. Things change, don’t forget. Something that made sense a while ago might not make sense now. With that said, on with the show.

* * *

Religion is technology. Something — something new, some kind of data — is discovered. It’s then honed and refined. And then it becomes a religion. Religion is simply ‘high-tech’.

Along the way there are fads and cults but ultimately, if it passes through its trial by fire, it becomes a religion.

Big pill to swallow, and I need to provide an example. Let’s take Jesus (sorry Christians), as he’s as close to omnipresence as things get. Look at your surroundings right now: your computer, iPhone, TV, keyboard. Pretty awesome eh? Do you know how any of them work? Maybe. Mostly they just work, you don’t question it. You sure as hell don’t call your computer a ‘box of miracles’ — well you might, but most of you probably don’t.

But that’s what it is. The fact that we can send data from one side of the planet to the other in a fraction of a second is a frackin’ miracle. We have the knowledge and power to surgically replace faulty hearts and perform crazy experiments at a sub-atomic level — that’s a damned miracle.

Only it’s not. It’s just technology.

Do you really think Jesus was a miracle worker? The son of God?

Just because I control the flow of electrons and fly through space at the speed of sound… does that deify me? Do you prostrate yourself before me; am I the Messiah? No — at least I doubt it. I’m merely harnessing technology.

You see, all these fields, spheres of thought and belief are really, really closely entwined. I’m close to a resolution, an epiphany: I can just about put my finger on it but it’s… slippery. Magic is the key to belief — mystery, that is. You don’t believe in something tangible, something real — you don’t believe in your car. You believe in true love, God, UFOs.

But there’s no such thing as magic, beyond impressive use of technology or new inventions. It’s magic until you learn how it’s done… and then it becomes mundane.

Is religion the same thing? Was talking to God, receiving divine prophecy and turning water into wine what passed for ‘high-tech’ 2,000 years ago? Did Jesus have some sterilised bandages or knowledge of Eastern medicine that cured large swathes of sick people? Does that make him a work of wonder, or merely a nice guy with some great tools? Why don’t we drop to our knees and deify Sagan or Einstein, our modern-day masters of the universe?

Our understanding of the universe is so great and our critical analysis now so exacting that magic and mystery are finding it impossible to gain a foothold in today’s society. Fads will form, and cults will climb to power and become religions, but as technology improves and shines a light on their inherent fallacies, they will fall — as soon as the curtain is whisked back and the truth revealed, the mystery will melt away. The magic castle will crumble and the religion, cult or fad will perish.

Without magic, there is no no faith, no prayer, no belief. Without mystery — the single most powerful force in human nature – there is no no religion.

In 50 years our understanding of the universe and humanity will be so great that I’ll be able to zap your body and fix it of all maladies. No side-effects. No caveats. What will existing religions do then?

I thought I’d spend a little time discussing the marvels of sexual fetishes and fantasies in east Asia. The region is special because of the time it spent disconnected from the Christian religion of the west and mid-east — Japan and south-east Asia never ‘enjoyed’ the medieval sex-is-bad-and-depraved Dark Ages. As a result, those Japanese (and the Thai, and any other Buddhist/Shinto countries in the region) have some really different ideas of what’s normal, and what’s sexually amoral.

For a start, the penis is good. Just like in Rome or Greece or anywhere pre-Christianity, the penis is a sign of fertility! Of strength and power! That never really went away in the East (check out the Japanese Fertility Festival for evidence!)

But, as you know, depravity feeds depravity. It’s a slippery slope, which is probably why the Bible/Testament-based faiths are so strict — those old prophet dudes knew that if you didn’t nip it in the bud, shit went south real darn quick. It might start with sodomizing your neighbour, but before you know it, you’re rubbing your ass in old oven fat and screaming ‘BANZAAAI!’ at the top of your lungs.

So, anyway, to both educate and disgust, I’ve compiled a list of the weirder fetishes and practices to come out of the East. For more TMI (because you can be sure that the next bit is going to be really gratuitous), check out Lilu’s blog.

From here on out, the links might not be safe for work. I’m not going to link you to porn, but there are descriptive diagrams… Also, that image above is a boy. Well, kind of… a ladyboy… she was once a boy.

Bukkake / pronunciation: boo-kah-kee

Ah, the poster-boy (or girl) of disgusting eastern culture! This is perhaps the most ‘popular’ of weird sex acts — not to say it’s a common practice, but it’s been the staple of western porn for quite a few years now, so it’s quite ‘well known’.

Bukkake, from the Japanese ‘bukkakeru’ meaning ‘to splash’, if you didn’t already know, is when multiple males shoot their (often voluminous) load on the face of some poor, (un?)suspecting victim.

It actually came about due to the ban on distribution of obscene materials in 1907 — you can’t show the genitals, but you can show everything else… thus… bukkake! What a great work-around…

Omarashi / pronunciation: om-ah-ras-ee

This one’s pretty weird. Literally ‘leaking’, omarashi is all about… wetting yourself. Or, more accurately, about girls with bladders that are full-to-bursting. Mostly this isn’t a hardcore thing — it’s deriving (sexual) pleasure from watching someone that really needs to pee. They can be fully dressed, or naked, it’s not really important.

There are also Japanese game shows which involve heroic tests of bladder strength…

Hentai

Ah, my personal favourite! (Well, some of it.)

You’ve probably heard of Manga, or anime — the ‘Japanese style’ of comics and animation, but you might not have heard of hentai. Actually, if you’re an Internet nerd, you’ve probably heard of it… or even seen it (and as you know, hentai is one of those things that can not be unseen).

Hentai, other than graphic depicting sex (obviously), is infamous for two reasons: it often involves protagonists that look very young (both male and female), and tentacles — big, gribbly, dribbly tentacles. You might know the term ‘tentacle rape’ — that comes from hentai.

If you’ve never seen hentai, it’s definitely an eye-opening experience, if only to appreciate the sound effects made by the voice actors… (seemingly, it’s quite hard to accurately produce penetrative tentacle noises in the foley studio).

A brief nod in the direction of Lolicon and Shotacon should also be mentioned at this stage (you should only really read those if you’re of a hardened disposition though…)

The Ladyboys of Bangkok

I had to end with the most exciting prospect of a trip to Asia: a run-in with the kathoey ladyboys of Thailand. They’re actually quite common all over south-east Asia, but mostly in Thailand and the Philippines. I have no idea why, but I find it better to not question such things. (It’s probably due to Buddhism and its different way of thinking about such things.)

They range from transsexuals to intersexuals, to cross-dressing and merely effeminate males. And they’re not just prostitutes, escorts or courtesans, that’s the weird/cool thing — they basically fill the entire role of… being female. They work in beauty salons and serve in restaurants. They dance in clubs, they model, they become pop acts… basically, all the ‘eww, weird’ stigma that we have in the West doesn’t exist over there.