2006-06-24
Weird political dream
I just woke up from a weird dream where I was made minister of culture in a small country after a revolution. One evening, I was dragged out of the climatised basements full of servers where I had been secretly working for the revolution and into some school hall or village hall (it was a very small country) to take my oath of office. They wanted me because of my computer and Internet affiliations, as they thought I'd be able to bring our small, benighted country right into the age of Web 2.0
I was walking away from that in the rain, happily ruminating how I'd spend what budget I'd get ('50 percent for basic culture so the kids can grow right into it; 30 percent for popular culture so the people get something nice again after all the troubles, 20 percent for high culture so the other countries will respect us') when I got randomly attacked by a random bitch with a much more important ministry, a gaggle of journalists in tow and an amorphous mass of random wank because the bitch colleague didn't like the idea that I had any influence at all that was outside her control - when all I wanted was to do my job as well as I could. Instead, I had to slap down my bitch colleague in a press war now before I could get on with things.
In my dream, the small dark rainy country with the new revolution was called either Nicaragua or Montenegro; something like that. The bitch colleague had no name that I could remember, but when I woke I thought, well, you do get them at times, don't you?
I was walking away from that in the rain, happily ruminating how I'd spend what budget I'd get ('50 percent for basic culture so the kids can grow right into it; 30 percent for popular culture so the people get something nice again after all the troubles, 20 percent for high culture so the other countries will respect us') when I got randomly attacked by a random bitch with a much more important ministry, a gaggle of journalists in tow and an amorphous mass of random wank because the bitch colleague didn't like the idea that I had any influence at all that was outside her control - when all I wanted was to do my job as well as I could. Instead, I had to slap down my bitch colleague in a press war now before I could get on with things.
In my dream, the small dark rainy country with the new revolution was called either Nicaragua or Montenegro; something like that. The bitch colleague had no name that I could remember, but when I woke I thought, well, you do get them at times, don't you?