Joe Moral the Rat

"I'm going queer in the morning, ding dong the boys are gonna smile.


Apologies to Alan Jay Lerner for my taking liberties with his lyrics (huge fan of My Fair Lady by the way) but strange as it sounds, these were the lines which popped into my head earlier while perusing the tabloid headlines announcing the first wave of gay weddings.
Yes indeedy do! Today is the day! And before this blog goes up in a holy fireball, allow Mr Jakes to spell it out: gay couples in England and Wales can now legally get married. Indeed eager to celebrate this, one of the first homosexual marriages took place at midnight in Brighton and I wish them much happiness. Now for the most part, straight folk are not too bothered and woke up this morning like they do every Saturday; thinking about this afternoons shopping or football before getting themselves airbrushed for a night on the WDK (or whatever 'chic' sugary water is the current tipple for trendy weekend warriors). Its no big deal and my guess is, they (like me) will wish gay couples all the best before getting on with life (there's a Premiership to be won afterall).
It is 2014. Equality is king, and while there are a good many who oppose gay marriage, someone ought to tell them the 'fight' is over and little is to be gained by voicing their opinions (which might sound ironic coming from a blogger Laughs Out Loud). Remember, it is not so long ago that women were fighting for equal rights, and people were sold in chains. Wake up! Those dark days are behind us now, belonging to a time best left in chains of its own, to fester in its ignorance.
Of course taking this post 'solo', readers might come to the conclusion that Dai Jakes is a raving liberal, yet in the past ive been called such gems as "the bastard son of Peter Hitchens and Rush Limbaugh" (now that would be an interesting date *guffaws*) so I am hardly of liberal stock. I just cannot see, or be bothered with, the hate. Its not interfering with my life, and its not like gay marriage is compulsory, so live and let live. When all is said and done, gay marriage doesn't hinder a heterosexuals life but could improve the happiness of a loving gay couple so hush and let them be happily married.
I for one can't abide intolerance. And neither am I fond of irrational outbursts. Examples? Go online to one of the newspaper sites carrying this story (so pretty much every British one) and in the Comments section underneath we can read outraged loons spout things like, "its against God! We will burn in hell!" Or, "disgraceful! Our morals are dead!"
Forgetting that, last time I checked, 74% Brits do not bother going to church so weird how suddenly God makes an appearance. As for our newly discovered moral guardians? Yeah sure, they convince me...until obeying this recently acquired morality iconveniences them in some way.
Listen, the esteemed Mr Jakes isn't perfect and doesn't have the answers to everything but I do know a couple of things: gay marriage is not a plague upon our land, and humanity won't implode in a ball of goodly fire if we allow it. So my advice to naysayers would be ~ lead your own life, cause no bother to others and if you can't be nice toward others, be silent. To the new surge of bible thumpers? Well, hope to see you guys down at the pews tomorrow. It is a Sunday remember!

Toodle pip for now!

Welshman and the Great Escape

Brave: Great Escape

We have all seen the movie, The Great Escape, and cheered on Steve McQueen's character Hilts as he attempts to sail over barbed wire on a motorbike at the end (though that bit was Hollywood fiction). Certainly I was not alone in feeling a wave of claustrophobia wash over me during the tunnel scenes, as these courageous prisoners of war tunnelled their way to freedom? And who could forget the Gestapo gunning down 50 of the escapees after being told to get out of the truck to "stretch their legs" while on their way back to camp (or so they thought)?
The Great Escape has many memorable scenes and though not all based on fact, helped make it a classic. (It is easily one of Mr Jakes' favourite films). Of course the main story IS very much true and took place 70 years ago on this very day. Of those who broke out, only three reached safety, 73 were recaptured, and 50 shot. Such heroic souls! No finer example of fire in the human spirit, and may they all rest in peace.
In the photograph above, the reader can see Cyncoed~born Brian Evans (left) a Welshman who was part of this historic escape. Sadly Mr Evans was one of those men murdered by Gestapo but it fills me with pride that one of my countrymen is a figure in this glorious tapestry.

Nationalities of the 50 executed prisoners

21 British
6 Canadian
6 Polish
5 Australian
3 South African
2 New Zealanders
2 Norwegian
1 Belgian
1 Czechoslovak
1 Frenchman
1 Greek
1 Lithuanian

Last Of The Dark

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living ~ Cicero

Death has never been a solemn subject to me, it is has never been taboo. It is fact that I have attended more funerals than weddings but not once have I shed a single tear (and these were close family members). Now before I am accused of being "unfeeling", allow me to explain. I have such a strong belief of a sweet Afterlife, I believe we ALL go there, good or bad, that whenever I find myself standing graveside I am so convinced the departed have "ascended to a better place" (to be glib about it) that no sadness will emerge. Not even by force. No amount of pleasant memories, or clenching fists or straining veins will tempt sorrow from its den.
At times I have wondered if I was simply cold or indifferent toward death but as the years turn into sheaths of grey, I realise my emotions are in check, their pulse alive and screaming. I believe. That is as simple as it gets.
Indeed if I was stood before a Judge about to sentence me to death, or a doctor about to deliver my cancer act in deadly script, I would more than likely grin in reply. (Of course I don't know 100% for sure of that smirking reply but I could lay my heart on it being 95% certain). Naturally I am wary of DYING but the actual DEATH part? Im no more afraid of it than razor steel is to flesh. Or a crocodile to butterfly (but I am being blown off course now).
For me, death has no end and therefore no sorrow. My bones might miss the company and mortal flashes of the deceased but I know, nay feel, that as the coffin is being lowered into its earthly haven or obliterated by flame, that the soul of Man is rising like a stunned eagle into realms where even the finest pearls would look as lowly as paupers rags. Shrugging off mortality and disease as it lifts unto the sanctity of unknown. And these brief shards of endless joy penetrate my mind so deeply, embedding themselves like euphoric clots, that sadness is obliterated, unable to bring me to my knees.
I have my humanity, feelings, and good many things will reduce me to tears but weeping for the dead is beyond my hearts grasp. I think too much, believe I even know too much and doubt can never get over the threshold of my imagination/beliefs to even begin to try and shatter these ideas. Of course every man will have weak moments, and being a man prone to sometimes rampant, wild emotion there are often times when all I am able to imagine after my pulse is done is a wall of black, blinding in its finality.

Not often I am happy to report. Often a good dose of Welsh coastal air or the sight of a buzzard hunting for its supper will remedy that.