The mass suicide?

beachedwOver the last weekend over 55 pilot whales beached at kommetjie, close to cape point in Cape Town. Volunteers and the authorities tried to push some of the whales back into the ocean, but in the end over two dozen of them died on the beach and another 40 had to be shot.

Why do these beautiful ocean giants beach, surely not for a tan? I did a bit of reading and there are loads of reasons why they could, some reasons seem perfectly sane and others just a little crazy, but you can decide for yourself.

In natural conditions, it is simply a case of miscalculation, hunting to close to shore and maybe just not paying attention properly. Then there is gently sloping coastlines that somehow messes with their echolocation (their navigation system). Also radical changes in the earths magnetic field could have something to do with them being set so badly off course, it is said that these changes happen just before big earth quakes, apparently it even messes with the navigation system of birds… which ominously reminds me of the air France plane crash…

Shark warnings have been issued around false bay, and surfers have been asked to be careful when going out to sea. Its going to take a while for things to settle down in the ocean, seeing as with all the body fat on a whale, even in death it can retain close to it’s body temperature for up to three days.

As for the whales successfully pushed back out to sea, I’ve read that many of them get so depressed about the loss of their family that they just go back to shore to die anyway. They really are like people in some ways. It made me wonder about the state of things, what we take for granted, what will happen to us in our world while we are all so busy living… and then I haven’t even touched on the subject of the ufo that supposedly saved the planet millions of years ago, shew.

Balkanology magic

Run walking down the street in a dodgy part of town, it’s raining hard and the wind is whipping at my face. I can hear the faint sound of a trumpet and I smell spices of some kind mixed with the rain. As I get closer to the Albert hall, the music becomes clearer, like seeing a car approach in the fog.  An odd looking couple stumbles past me, strangled in a laughing embrace.

I reach the entrance, steamy smoke billows from the door, I pay the cover charge to a big bouncer reminiscent of chocolate from Moulin Rouge. The way inside is a maze of red ad cage and Gypsies filling past.

Then once inside the sweet smell of weed and incense gently tickles my nose, the music is loud and the crowd is a colourful mess of beautiful girls and dirty attractive men. Then something magical seems to happen, the music is absolutely hypnotic, all reservations all preconceptions simply forgotten, and automatically I start dancing like it’s the most natural thing ever, the music puts my body at ease and movement comes without thought. I am convinced this is the natural condition of the human body, this is happiness, peace.

I have never had as much fun as I did that night, crazy balkan beats, I am addicted.