"I am not an ATHEIST I just believe in one less GOD than you"
As a secular soul, one of the first things you learn when living in Indonesia is the basic truism of real estate location, location, location is still very relevant. The process is fairly simple, find the house and then drive around looking for the nearest Mosque. The closer the Mosque the less sleep you will enjoy. It also pays to come around and check out the house about the time for the evening call to prayer, hills and valleys can do interesting things with the travel of sound.
Sound (pun intended) a bit culturally insensitive! Not really places like Singapore must have a law of just how loud the Call to Prayer can be and there must be some sort of school for the Prayer Police as they manage to sound somewhat human. Indonesia by contrast just sounds full of wailing cats. A fevered desire to combine the worst public speaking (?) voice with the tinniest, cheapest speakers at full volume seems to be designed to encourage people to pray by pain alone. Worse, some idiot decide their kids playing with the microphone at full volume after prayers are cute. Here’s a tip, the kid leaning back on the plane seat making faces and the kid playing on the microphone is not cute, he’s a brat!).
(To digress, personally I would ban microphones throughout Indonesia as a health hazard! Also will someone please show the PP what the bass knob is for)
So fully armed with the hard earned above experience, the Stump sought out a new abode for us to continue life in Indonesia. Lo, a new abode was found, far from any Mosque (ok then... as far as possible in Indonesia). Come Call to Prayer time AND only muted calls could be heard....AAAH. Cool, signed the deal, moved in...All is Bliss ….UNTIL…
Tuesday Night, 8pm, car after car start arriving next door…Oh no, Christian Gospel Singers until midnight twice a week………..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
If nothing else you have to appreciate God Delusion’s sense of humour…
7 comments:
I can't really commiserate as I've lived in the same house for nigh on 20 years and I really don't want to move because of the very same reason you give - I might regret it.
I look forward to hearing how you resolve this one. Here are a few suggestions.
- Presumably you're renting, in which case ask for a rebate and let your landlord/lady sort it out.
- Play your dangdut cassettes at a similar volume to their 'music' on two other nights.
- Feign an infectious (STD?) disease the next scheduled evening and ask them to perform the laying on of hands ceremony.
- Give them a couple of fish and five loaves and ask them to perform a miracle. Water into wine may be more appropriate.
- Alternatively, tell them that Jesus admonished Christians to "Love their neighbours" so if they don't shut the f*** up you'll get quite angry and do something they might regret.
I thoroughly enjoy your posts from the far side of the earth, Qatar. I lived & worked in Indonesia for 12 years prior to coming here. A good mate of mine sent me this, you may have already seen it.
Regards,PRB.
While on his morning walk, Kevin Rudd falls over, has a heart attack and dies, because the accident and emergency ward at his nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat him in time so his soul arrives in Heaven and he is met by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. "Welcome to Heaven," says Saint Peter, "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see Labour people around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in; I'm a good Christian; I'm a believer," says Kevin. "I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from God Himself. He says that since the implementation of his new HEAVEN CHOICES policy, you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."
"But I've already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," replies Rudd "I'm sorry ...but we have our rules," Peter interjects. And, with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down all the way to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course. The sun is shining in a cloudless sky. The temperature is a perfect 22C degrees. In the distance is a beautiful club-house. Standing in front of it is poor old Gough Whitlam and thousands of other Labour and union leaders, who had helped him out over the years --- Jim Cairns Bob Hawke, Bill Collins Bill D'Arcy , Paul Keating Joan Kirner Peter Beattie Keith Wright Gordon Nuttall , Wayne Goss, all good clean living Labour people. All of the Labour Party leaders and Union Officials were there .......everyone laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed. They run to greet him, to hug him and to reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of 'suckers and peasants.' They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Rudd with a frosty drink, "Have a Tequila and relax, Kevin!" "Uh, I can't drink anymore, I took a pledge," says Rudd dejectedly. "This is Hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry and it just gets better from there!" Rudd takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he Thinks
is a really very friendly bloke who tells funny jokes, like himself, and pulls hilarious nasty pranks - kind of like the ones Labour pulled with the "Recession we had to have" " no child will live in poverty" " Wolfdene Dam " "no new taxes and low interest rates below 19% " and promises such as that that were never carried out .They are having such a great time that, before he realises it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Rudd steps on the elevator and heads upward.
When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and Saint Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate. So for 24 hours Rudd is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or short-arse joke among them. No fancy country clubs here and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor. He doesn't see anybody he knows and he isn't even treated like someone special! "Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself. "Kim Beazley never prepared me for this!" The day done, Saint Peter returns and says, "Well, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now you must choose where you want to live for eternity."
With the 'Deal or No Deal' theme playing softly in the background, Rudd reflects for a minute ...then answers: "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this --I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all-but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."
So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren Scorched earth covered with garbage & toxic industrial wasteland, kind of like the eroded, rabbit and fox affected Australian outback. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the roadside rubbish and putting it into black plastic bags......They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime. The Devil comes over to Rudd and puts an arm around his shoulder....."I don't understand," stammers a shocked Kevin, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a club-house and we ate lobster and caviar and drank tequila.....We lazed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and
everybody looks miserable!"
The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly and purrs......
"Yesterday, Kevin, we were campaigning; Today you voted for us!"
I thoroughly enjoy your posts from the far side of the earth, Qatar. I lived & worked in Indonesia for 12 years prior to coming here. A good mate of mine sent me this, you may have already seen it.
Regards,PRB.
While on his morning walk, Kevin Rudd falls over, has a heart attack and dies, because the accident and emergency ward at his nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat him in time so his soul arrives in Heaven and he is met by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. "Welcome to Heaven," says Saint Peter, "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see Labour people around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in; I'm a good Christian; I'm a believer," says Kevin. "I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from God Himself. He says that since the implementation of his new HEAVEN CHOICES policy, you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."
"But I've already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," replies Rudd "I'm sorry ...but we have our rules," Peter interjects. And, with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down all the way to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course. The sun is shining in a cloudless sky. The temperature is a perfect 22C degrees. In the distance is a beautiful club-house. Standing in front of it is poor old Gough Whitlam and thousands of other Labour and union leaders, who had helped him out over the years --- Jim Cairns Bob Hawke, Bill Collins Bill D'Arcy , Paul Keating Joan Kirner Peter Beattie Keith Wright Gordon Nuttall , Wayne Goss, all good clean living Labour people. All of the Labour Party leaders and Union Officials were there .......everyone laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed. They run to greet him, to hug him and to reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of 'suckers and peasants.' They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Rudd with a frosty drink, "Have a Tequila and relax, Kevin!" "Uh, I can't drink anymore, I took a pledge," says Rudd dejectedly. "This is Hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry and it just gets better from there!" Rudd takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he Thinks
is a really very friendly bloke who tells funny jokes, like himself, and pulls hilarious nasty pranks - kind of like the ones Labour pulled with the "Recession we had to have" " no child will live in poverty" " Wolfdene Dam " "no new taxes and low interest rates below 19% " and promises such as that that were never carried out .They are having such a great time that, before he realises it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Rudd steps on the elevator and heads upward.
When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and Saint Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate. So for 24 hours Rudd is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or short-arse joke among them. No fancy country clubs here and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor. He doesn't see anybody he knows and he isn't even treated like someone special! "Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself. "Kim Beazley never prepared me for this!" The day done, Saint Peter returns and says, "Well, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now you must choose where you want to live for eternity."
With the 'Deal or No Deal' theme playing softly in the background, Rudd reflects for a minute ...then answers: "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this --I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all-but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."
So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren Scorched earth covered with garbage & toxic industrial wasteland, kind of like the eroded, rabbit and fox affected Australian outback. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the roadside rubbish and putting it into black plastic bags......They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime. The Devil comes over to Rudd and puts an arm around his shoulder....."I don't understand," stammers a shocked Kevin, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a club-house and we ate lobster and caviar and drank tequila.....We lazed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and
everybody looks miserable!"
The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly and purrs......
"Yesterday, Kevin, we were campaigning; Today you voted for us!"
Hi J,
Its not that bad..more humourous than anything else..just goes to show all plans are subject to the TII factor.
Thanks PRB..
How's Qatar,
Never been over that way..whats it like?
Hi J,
Besides religious loons provide a never ending source of material for poking fun at
so u'r in the middle of papua now eh? :P
Hi Johnno..
ssshhh not telling
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