Reverse Oreo?

For those of you outside Canada, let me catch you up. The previous Liberal government, contrary to what polls said were the wishes of the majority of Canadians, committed Canada to military action in Afghanistan. Shortly thereafter, the new Conservative government positioned itself as the champion of this new aggressive Canadian foreign military policy. Now, as casualties mount and tangible accomplishments fail to manifest in a public manner, the public has seriously turned against this conflict. The government commissioned the so-called "Manley Report" to advise on how to proceed.

Unsurprisingly, the Manley report has issued a recommendation that puts the blame and responsibility for future action on NATO, not on the Canadian government. As Eric Margolis puts it,

"The Manley report provides the latest doleful example of the opposition Liberal’s pathetic failure to demand Ottawa answer tough questions about the growing mess in Afghanistan. Canada’s opposition has done even worse than the Democrats in Washington. Both are petrified to oppose a war that no matter how futile and foolish risks provoking charges of `not supporting our boys,’ and `being soft on terrorism.’"

Margolis underlines the true issue surrounding this country's Afghan adventure: we have no political agenda or goal.... at all. Why is this a problem? Because without a defined endpoint, this stupid affair will continue indefinitely, expanding and morphing into war, policing, nation building, skirmish operations, and Zod knows what else. Sigh.

So what needs to be done? Well, we've gone to lengths to establish ourselves as the peace-keeping presence there, so many of the NGOs depend on a NATO presence for "protection". So I suppose some peace-keeping force needs to remain. But without a political endpoint, active armed excursions don't seem to have a point. Time to negotiate peace with all parties, flood the place with money, and let a natural government evolve. The current US-installed government is non-functional; Karzai is essentially the mayor of Kabul, and his security force is made up of foreign mercenaries, since his own people want him dead.

In Other News...

CNN newsfolks continue their downward spiral to pointlessness. In this latest installment, Kyra Phillips, after being the tail end of two broadcasts, one by a white chick, the other by a black dude, commented that they were part of a "reverse Oreo". Here's the exchange:

Gerri: Alright Don, you come too.
Kyra: We could bring him along with the girls.
Gerri: Come on!
Kyra: He's paying! Thanks, Gerri.
Don: A little sandwich!
Kyra: Ooh!
Gerri: Whoa, I have to go now!
Kyra: Yeah, good time. You don't want to talk about the reverse oreo!

Racist or no? Or just hot?


In Other Other News:

The other Ray sends us 20 things we didn't know about science fiction. He also sends us these, apropos of earlier discussions on Deonandia.

Lastly, Howard S. comments:

"This year, both Groundhog Day and the State of the Union address occur on the same day. And as it has been pointed out: 'It is an ironic juxtaposition of events - one involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little critical thinking ability for prognostication, while the other involves a groundhog.'"

Bugging Out

The other Ray sends us another "powers of ten" thingy.

Same dude also sends us these creepy pics of the 5 most horrifying bugs in the world.

Brother Bhash sends us this harrowing news, that the US army has once again lowered its recruiting standard... 'cause it's a good idea to give guns to the dumbest members of society.

BB also sends us this update of Monica Lewinsky's happenings. A couple of years ago, a friend found herself in Lewinsky's class at LSE. The friend would text me Lewinsky gossip every ten minutes. It was great! "Today Monica said so-and-so in class" or "Today, I saw Monica making googly eyes at a fat Swedish kid." Sadly, I never got, "Today Monica said she'd like to give the 'Bill Clinton treatment' to a geeky Canadian blogger, preferably an Indian one with a big nose."

Remember the Daily Perv Link (TM)? Well, I've revived it for one day only. And for this special day, you get not one, but two very special Daily Perv Links (TM), here and here. It's interesting that in the latter story, the person caught sharing images of the transaction was more noticeably punished than the person actually engaging in the transaction. More proof that our world is, at best, odd.

After that, I feel the need to leave you with something pleasant, but no less foul. How about some Billy Connolly stand up comedy?

Fire!

Greetings from the 24 hr Elgin St Diner, which is supposed to have wifi access, but it doesn't seem to work for me. So instead i'm blogging on my Treo 680.

Why am I here at 10pm on a Monday night, when "Batman Begins" is on free tv? Well, the fire alarm went off in my apartment building. In the dead of winter, usually alarms are triggered by changes in temperature. This time however, I emerged into the hallway to smell the distinctive odour of burning rubber or plastic. So I got the frack out of there.

The 200 or so other shmucks in my building are milling about the fire engines, freezing their pyjama-clad asses off. Me, I headed straight to the diner with my laptop, fully loaded with "Justice League: The New Frontier", which I am watching while sipping grapefruit juice and eating lemon meringue pie.... and watching my building potentially burn.

Now, I fled the building in a thoughtful, systematic manner. I put on my standard utility pants (actually, military issue chemical warfare pants, useful in every climate), a sweater, grabbed my keys, wallet and my very expensive leather jacket. I made sure to grab my cell phone/pda, which ensures that all my vital personal data will be saved. And I grabbed one of my laptops so I could entertain myself.

Sadly, I grabbed my cheap ass $300 used Thinkpad, and not the $1200 brand new (uninsured) Toshiba I bought only this past weekend! Arrrgh!

But the most frustrating bit is that I failed to rescue any of my data backups. See, I keep all my data in an external hard drive (which makes me immune to data loss from computer crashes). I back up this data weekly to yet another external hard drive. But both drives are sitting on my desk in a building that might be on fire! See the problem here?

I usually carry a password protected copy (via usb key) of all my teaching and consulting related data (eg, student marks, ongoing client projects, etc) for just such an occasion, to ensure that data that affect other people's lives are always protected. But guess what? This is one time I neglected to put the usb key in my pocket!

I also have an online backup (called an x-drive) that is a pain to update, so it's about 5 months out of date. And I have a dvd backup in Toronto, which is about 3 months out of date.

Clearly, I need a better emergency exit strategy. I think from now on I will add "grab the freakin' external drive!" to my emergency exit to-do list.

Oh, and "The New Frontier" rocks seven ways till Tuesday. I'm going to watch it again!

UPDATE: All right, the building didn't burn down. Now I have another opportunity to prepare a better emergency exit plan!

Tom Cruise Está Muerto

The other Ray sends us the photo above, which is a composite image of actual photos of the Andromeda galaxy. Click here to see a blown up version. It's pretty cool.

Proving once again that Faux News is populated and run by a bunch of in-bred, racist, sexist and homophobic retards is this clip from John Gibson about the death of Heath Ledger.

Here are some interesting factoids, including that one can die from laughter!

Want to buy me a present? How about this book by Fark.com founder, Drew Curtis?

Speaking of Fark.com, I found the following courtesy of them. Go to "Google translate" and select "English to Spanish". The type in the phrase, "Heath Ledger is dead". The result will feed conspiracy theorists for months.

Well, I just received my student evaluations from my recently completed 3rd year Health Research course. The results were, thankfully, overwhelmingly positive. My favourite comment was, "The professor is hot!" Hmm, better do some DNA testing on that anonymous form to track down this highly astute student.

My other favourite one was less complimentary: "The professor should speak in a more professional manner." I nearly fell over laughing at that one. See, I tend to use rather, um, pornographic examples in class. Given that most other members of my "profession" are even more depraved and raddled than me, perhaps a "professional manner" is not truly what this student wants.

Okay....snack time.

Red Rain! Red Rain!

I know, I know, the obsession does not end. But I thought some of you might be interested in this, the inclusion of a Stone Roses song in one of the "bonus tracks" of the video game, Guitar Hero 3. This is relevant, not just because of my Roses obsession, but because it's the only GH bonus track that's a cover, and not the original. Why? Because the Roses were too cool to let a gaming company merchandise their song. Here's the screen capture:



Speaking of things computer-y, check out the AFS Trinity "extreme hybrid" SUV, set to revolutionize the world of eco-friendly driving.

And speaking of ecological issues, a new study suggests that "rich countries" may "owe" poorer countries something of the order of $1.8 billion as compensation for the damage done to the environment by industrial processes. Read about it here.

With Virgin about to launch it's commercial sub-orbital space flight service next year, far-seeing prospectors are already lining up to speculate on lunar real estate. So, the question is asked, Who owns the Moon? Personally, I would like to see the Moon treated like Antarctica: owned by no person or nation, and administered by an international body.

And speaking of things celestial, there is an intriguing theory that "red meteoric rain" that occasionally falls to Earth, may in fact contain microscopic alien life.

Linkapalooza

How could I make up this title? "General Butt Naked confesses to nude killings"

For my single female friends, here's a video featuring the perfect date.

The other Ray sends us video of amazing sea creatures.

Here's an important link about students groveling for marks, an issue prominent in my mind these days.

Nasty Nicky B sends us this very important movement by Amnesty International to protect bloggers!

Darth Vadum sends us this very geeky comedy sketch about websites.

Cousin Ajay sends us the USC application form.

Long time readers know of my penchant for large hamburgers. Check out this monster.

Andoo sends us these amazing ice sculptures.

Last but surely not least, my very cool grade 9 English teacher, Harold Lass, has entered the land of authorship, with his first book, Echoes of the Holocaust:

Announcements, Big, Small and Sad

Small announcement: As part of the University of Ottawa's International Development Week, yours truly will be taking part in two events. Frist, a book reading with other "international authors" in Room 509 of the Arts Building, 70 Lauruer Ave E, on Monday Feb 4th at 4pm. Second, I'll be part of a panel on health and development on Tuesday Feb 5th, 5:30-7:30pm, place to be announced.

Big announcement: As part of the same event, we have secured Canada's greatest speaker, Stephen Lewis, to give the keynote lecture on Feb 6th, 7:30pm, at the Ottawa Congress Centre. This one costs money, but I urge everyone in Ottawa to fork out the $$ to hear the man. You can get tickets online.

Even bigger announcement: Just a few minutes ago, I got confirmation that Michael Ignatieff is interested in taking part in our event. Now the question is, is there an overlap between the sparse holes in his very tight schedule, and the choice speaking spots in our ever tightening schedule? I desperately hope so, as Ignatieff will add a very special --and possibly controversial-- element to the festivities. Please stay tuned for more info, especially those of you in the Ottawa area.

Sad announcement: One of the greats of our age, by whatever standard you apply --whether positive or negative-- the transcendant and possibly undefeated chess master, Bobby Fischer, has died. The man was very possibly nuts, and his racist and anti-semitic views are not to be rationalized. But he was also brave and unrelenting and always a source of entertainment, for better or worse. If nothing else, he certainly coloured the world with his presence. I'd always hoped for his redemption, possibly with a little help from our friend Lithium; but it never came.

Glug Glug

So, I'm on day 7 of my non-stop Stone Roses binge. For reals. I have no excuse or explanation. Just is. Doesn't help that yob/savant singer Ian Brown, for all his airy-fair, hippy-dippy flakiness, sometimes makes a weird sort of sense.

I'm also on day 5 of my non-stop nasal irrigation binge. I tells ya, I wish I'd discovered this years ago! My days of crippling sinus headaches are now behind me. (And possibly my days of singleness are never to end, given the inherent grossness of the practice.) Hmmm, what next? How about coffee enemas? Hell, why not?

My emergency weight loss programme is in full swing. It's not based on anything scientific or reasonable, and is probably the least healthy approach one can imagine. But I'm enjoying it. Essentially, I have a protein shake for breakfast (almond butter, soy milk, wheat germ and honey), go to the gym for an hour, where I work my lower abs to death, enjoy a HUGE lunch (but no fried foods, minimal leavened breads and no potatoes), and a tiny, miniscule dinner, usually just a bowl of plain yogurt. Oh, and during the day I drink black coffee and lots of water. And I've been sleeping like a newborn, 8-10 hours a night!

Man, I feel great, and I can already see my abs again. Is it sustainable? Probably not. But let's not complain while it's working.


In Other News,

Other Ray sends us this interesting article on teaching astronomy to blind kids.

A new report suggests that US lending companies are preying on ethnic minorities. The money quote: "The subprime lending debacle has caused the greatest loss of wealth to people of colour in modern U.S. history."

Cousin Ajay, ever the perv (love that boy), sends us a way to pick knickers for models.

And whatever you do, don't miss the Indian condom song!

Om Shiva

Today we discuss this video. It's a commercial by Cinemax:



Now, what was your first response? It's certainly a lovely ad, and the music is transcendant. But it is classical Hindu religious music, and its words are sacred Vedic text. My friend Shreya alerted me to the controversy surrounding this marketing piece, and I'm of the opinion that some canny, Westernized South Asians were behind it.

The question remains, is it offensive? Personally, I'm removed enough from religion that it doesn't bother me. In fact, I rather enjoyed the imagery of my favourite superheroes (whom I've always considered a mythological pantheon of gods) splayed to the music of one of the world's oldest religions. But I see how it could bother others, especially since the audience is not savvy to the nuances of Hinduism.

If, for example, the ad were deemed socially acceptable in India, where knowledge of Hinduism is deepest, then it would be fine elsewhere. But I really doubt it would get any sort of penetration in India without some serious rioting.

The fact remains that the West really knows very little about Hinduism and other specific aspects of South Asian culture. Pretty much all we get here is yoga, Deepak Chopra and whatever Madonna cares to filter for us. Thus, every image, every iota of South Asian culture broadcast to the mainstream must be considered an ambassador of the whole. Every visible minority member who's ever been called upon to represent his entire race or culture, however unwillingly, knows what I'm talking about.

Thus, to see one of the sweetest aspects of Hinduism --its devotional music-- co-opted by a marketer, with all the soul, wisdom and beauty of its content stripped away and replaced with Cinemax iconography, is understandably troubling to many. To many Hindu sensibilities, this would be the same as using Christian gospels as the soundtrack to hardcore porn. Sound extreme? Consider that the ad ended with the holy word, "Om", as Borat flashed his semi-naked ass. The disrespect is palpable.

Now, like I said, the ad doesn't bother me personally much. In fact, I quite enjoy it. But I'm not the norm, I'm not the sea of the conservative South Asian middle class, soon to be one of the greatest markets in the world. Cinemax not only made an ethical slip up by producing this video, they also may have committed a dire strategic error.

But I will end with another video, officially 30 years old this week, and considered the Finest Moment in TV History by many:

R.I.P. Sir Edmund Hillary

Here I am, back in the office --but still listening to Stone Roses MP3s. Christ, why can't I stop?!

This time last week, I was rising from a hotel bed in Cairo, still deathly ill with God-knows-what virus. I arrived in Canada with a nasty head and chest cold. Historically, my colds last weeks and sometimes months, so I was afraid I was in for a long period of torment.

But this time around, I tried three things differently: (i) I limited my caloric intake during the period of sickness; (ii) I started the practice of nasal/sinus irrigation; and (iii) I took ColdFX religiously.

Would you believe it? My cold was completely gone within 48 hours! I'm typically not a great believer in herbal or home remedies for colds. But so far, I'm pretty impressed by ColdFX, which is just a particular concoction of ginseng. The science, though, is still questionable.

In more important news, I was saddened to hear of the death of Sir Edmund Hillary. Sir Edmund was a giant among adventurers, ranking in my eyes on par with Magellan and above Neil Armstrong. It is one thing to have conquered Everest, it's another to have done so with the humility that Sir Edmund displayed. Moreover, his vision subtended more than just the mountain; he recognized the plight of the Sherpa people and their right to much of his glory, hence his early refusal to share with the world which of the two men --himself or Sherpa Tenzing Norgay-- was the first to summit. History has since recorded that Sir Edmund was first to the top, but he could not have done it without Norgay, who, despite falling into alcoholism after his triumph, remained a transcendant hero in the eyes of Sherpas, Nepalese and Indians alike.

Sir Edmund committed his fortune, the remainder of his years and all of his fame and influence to improving the lives of the Sherpas, building schools and an airstrip for the previously isolated and underprivileged community. Tragedy struck him during his charitable years, taking his wife and daughter in a plane crash, yet he persevered.

Sir Edmund was very much a hero of the classical Imperial old age, a giving and self-sacrificing gentleman. I'd always hoped to meet him. My retired grade 9 English teacher managed to meet him at the Everest base camp 2 years ago, as I reported here.

On my wall still hangs a framed cover of a 1953 copy of Life Magazine, showing Sir Edmund and Tenzing on the summit of Everest. It remains an example of how individual triumph can be had with dignity and humility, and can be transformed into a life of philanthropy and social reward. Rest in peace, Sir Edmund.

Humanitas

When: Wednesday Jan 16, 2008, 5:pm onward
Where: Bruyere Gallery (75 rue Bruyere, Ottawa)
What: Humanitas photography exhibit, showing images from around the world. All proceeds go to MSF. The show will remain mounted until March, 2008.

Videos and Stolen Crap

Above is the rather crappy postscript to an otherwise trippy voyage to Egypt. This is a photo of my suitcase, with a gash either accidentally ripped in its side, or intentionally slit. I suspect the latter because the only item missing from it is a very small leather pouch containing the only items of value I purchased in Egypt: about $50 worth of jewellery. Not a big deal, but it does suck.

Speaking of sucking, I've started to upload some of the small video clips I took in Egypt. Here's a clip of a truly sucky comedy bit, our version of the Amazing Carnak performing in the actual Temple of Karnak. (It's sucky because of my camera work, not because of Andrew's comedy performance.)



Here are the links to a few of the other uploaded videos. Many many more are forthcoming:

Luxor Call To Prayer
Felucca on the Nile, part 1
Felucca on the Nile, part 2
Dervish
Quran Drive
Valley of the Kings
Train to Luxor
Tomb of Tuthmosis III
Tomb of Queen Hetepheres
Top of Cheops
Khan al-Khalili
Penetrating the Great Pyramid of Cheops
In the Burial Chamber of Cheops 1
In the Burial Chamber of Cheops 2
In the Burial Chamber of Cheops 3
Ankh in Luxor 1 (don't ask)

Here's the video of us climbing the long shaft inside the Great Pyramid of Cheops. (The one called "Penetrating the Great Pyramid of Cheops" in the list above.) It ends with Andrew mocking my use of the word "wonderfullest."


The followig is not our video. This was taken by some random person, but it shows the inside of the Red Pyramid, a site I had intended to visit on my last day in Egypt, but was unable to, due to illness. See, most tourists don't even know it's there, so supposedly one can have some good alone time within this marvel, which is only a little bit smaller than the Great Pyramids of Giza. Anyway, for a taste of what it would have been like, here's a video I found on google:

www.big.co.ck

I foolishly agreed to give a talk this morning at the University of Ottawa. (Foolish because I'm in no condition to be standing upright in front of people.) I was doubly foolish because it wasn't till 5:00 AM that I got around to actually preparing the talk. Why the delay? Well, my droogies, for the past day I've been pretty much laid up at home, lying supine, nursing my bad back... and listening ad nauseam to the Stone Roses.

Yep, ever since Thursday's post on this British band, I've done little else but listen to their songs over and over again. I know myself; when I get into these obsessive moods, it's best to just wait it out till I bore of the topic. Not bored yet.

I dug up this video of the band playing their psychedelic classic, "Waterfall", on Tony Wilson's legendary show, "The Other Side of Midnight." It's a great piece of music history. Note the centre stage taken by the band's drummer, Reni, known as "the Jimi Hendrix of the drums". I don't know much about drumming, but even I'm impressed by his "liquidity". Also dig the freaky dude dancing by the mixer:



Now, the first (and classic) Stone Roses album had a weird little song on it called "Don't Stop", which sounds like another song played backwards. You can hear it here.

Some clever fellow has reversed "Don't Stop" and allowed us to hear it backwards. Guess what? It's the same song --"Waterfall"-- played in reverse! Listen to it here.

Also, Roses singer Ian Brown actually had a cameo in the 4th Harry Potter movie. Blink, and you'd miss him. Here's the clip:



Okay, that's all I'm going to blog about the Stone Roses, I promise. But I still have a few more hours of listening to get through, first. I will, however, tell a little story in song...

It begins with one of my favourite post-punk bands, Joy Division, playing their classic song, "Digital":



Now we have, from the movie 24 Hour Party People, a bunch of actors pretending to be Joy Division, syncing to the same song:



The actor playing Bernard Sumner, the guitarist from Joy Division, is John Simm. As we all know, after the death of singer Ian Curtis, the remnants of Joy Division became New Order.

So, from the same movie, here are actors --including John Simm as Bernard Sumner-- playing New Order, playing their classic song, "Blue Monday", which was about the Monday after the death of Ian Curtis:



Fast forward a few years and we have the actor John Simm on stage with the actual New Order performing the Joy Division song "Digital":



Confused?

More to the point, why have I taken you on this convoluted journey? Because John Simm has another claim to fame. He is the present incarnation of Dr Who's arch-nemesis, The Master. Here are the fantastic 10 minutes of actor Derek Jacobi discovering that he is The Master, then "regenerating" into John Simm:



See? Two of my favourite things in entertainment --Dr Who and Joy Division-- are actually linked! Isn't that cool? Well I thought it was cool. That's all that matters. I guess if I could find a Joy Division reference in a Dr Who episode, that would be cooler.


In Other News

Cousin Ajay recommends that one register a domain name with the Cook Islands (domain extension ".ck"), so that one might own www.big.co.ck

Can you tell we're related?

Yobs

Hmmm, 3:30AM and I'm wide awake. Who's jet lagged? Anyone? Bueller?

Here's a brief follow-up to yesterday's post about the Stone Roses. Their singer, the yob named Ian Brown was the stylistic template for many contemporary British pop star yob wannabes, especially their #1 yob, Liam Gallagher. Go to Youtube and search for both these fellows. You'll find countless videos of Gallagher attacking random people, and countless videos of Ian Brown fighting with fans, bouncers and show hosts. Then there's the way Gallagher has stolen Brown's look. This is Ian Brown:


And this is Liam Gallagher:


Can you tell them apart? Yobs of a feather, dude.

Now, because I love you all, I give you this, a clip from one of the 1980s greatest (read: stupidest) TV shows, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. Enjoy:

preview.tinyurl.com/2ffbtr

In Dr Who news, the babetastic Freema Agyeman, to whom paeans have long been sung on this blog, will join the cast of the craptacular Who spin-off series, Torchwood this coming season. Details are here.

Know what else I've discovered? The wonders of nasal irrigation!

The Return of Britpop Week... Er, Day

Photo by Andrew Currie

How's this for promptness? All my Egypt photos have been uploaded. Through the magic of Flickr.com, you can view them all here:

www.flickr.com/photos/raywat/sets/72157603684519941/

And since Andrew takes better photos than me, why not look at his, as well?

www.flickr.com/photos/andrewcurrie/sets/72157603590575829

Yes, I'm still sick and miserable, but I'm making the best of it by working from home, uploading my photos and updating this blog! Stay tuned, because I will soon upload all the little videos I took in Egypt, as well, and they're a lot more interesting than the photos!

So, on my flight from London to Ottawa (in which I had a bad back, head cold, jet lag and insomnia and was stuck in the middle seat!) I was forced to read the in-flight Air Canada magazine, something I desperately avoid, if at all possible. (I don't like the idea of advertisers having me trapped.) But my PDA, laptop and headphones had all burned through their batteries, and the in-flight movie was the freakin' Nanny Diaries, so I was desperate for some low-tech distraction.

In the magazine was a throw-away article by National Post entertainment columnist Shinan Govani. (I've met Shinan a number of times --being that we're both urban Canadian brown dudes-- but I'm sure he wouldn't remember me. Few do.) The article was light and flip, but strangely reinforced something I've noticed far too often: the seeming fairy tale disconnect of British "celebrity" life.

See, if you've never travelled outside of North America, you probably don't realize that there are "star" systems totally separate from Hollywood. The indigenous Chinese film and recording industries cater to a huge and specialized audience. The Indian movie industry --Bollywood-- is bigger, in some ways, than Hollywood could ever dream of. The South Indian industry, out of Chennai, might even be bigger than Bollywood! And, as I reported earlier, the Arab world has its own celebrities. Not every country is clinging to the latest misadventures of Britney Spears, or tracking the number of bunks in the growing Brangelina dormitory.

But Britain has always been a special case. Its cultural and historical links to America are so deep that we often interchange pop references. British actors compete for the Oscar in the mainstream categories, not the foreign film categories. And for the longest time, you could never tell that a rock band was from Britain, because they always sang with American accents.

And yet Britain enjoys its weird little set of domestic mega-stars who remain completely unknown outside the island, in the worlds of both film and music. If it weren't for his one big single, for example, no one on this side of the Atlantic would have ever heard of Robbie Williams, though the man has been a transcendant star in the UK for years.

And I, like Shinan Govani, think that's great. Pop culture is the most easily accessed layer of society; and it's gratifying that the pop cultures of the world are yet diverse, despite global forces threatening that diversity.

Which brings me to today's semi-regular installment of The History of Britpop, here on Deonandia. See, there was a band out of Manchester that was huge back in the day, and were possibly the godfathers of Britpop, but who remain pretty much unknown in North America. They were the Stone Roses.

I won't bore you with the history, except to say that this band's history makes for some hilarious reading, considering how unbelievably huge they once were, and how it all got fracked up due to a combination of catastrophic bad luck and some very poor business decisions. Their first hit was a poppy little tune called "Sally Cinnamon" (the lyrics to which are supposedly still posted in the Man United playing grounds.) After they made it big, their record company released a video for "Sally Cinnamon" without the band's permission. It was a pretty crappy video, and you can watch it here. How did the band take it? Well, they sprayed the record company's offices, the owner, his girlfriend and his car with paint. That was the beginning of the end for them.

The Stone Roses' lead singer was Ian Brown, also known as "King Monkey" 'cause he looks and moves quite apelike. Not particularly attractive. Here's a taste of the Monkey Man in more contemporary times, when old age has added to his apelike demeanour:



But my favourite Stone Roses song will always be "Love Spreads", which was their last stab at glory, after 5 years of nothing. Apparently, anticipation of the song was so intense that it was hand delivered to the BBC, who were permitted to play it exactly once before the CDs were sent to the stores. Here's the crappy video for an excellent song from a crappy second album of an excellent bad with crappy common sense:



One of the coolest bits of Stone Roses history is their 1989 appearance on a live broadcast from the BBC. Apparently, they exceeded their "noise quota" for the building, and the power was automatically cut, leading to some hasty damage control by the show's host. Ian Brown, ever the classic English yob, started yelling, "Amateurs!" at the BBC staff. Brilliant stuff. Watch it here:



Lastly, if you peruse the Egypt photos, you will notice that I've put on some weight lately. Sigh, it's true. I'm now a stuffy 180 lbs, made worse because I can't work out due to my bad back. Time for a soup diet, no? Anyway, this is what I look like when I'm at home blogging:



So ladies, if you need some plus size lovin', you know who to call.

Mountains of Snot

A "felucca" pilot plying his craft on the Nile at sunset in Luxor. Photo taken on my trusty Treo 680.
Let's recap:

-bad back
-feverish
-no sleep in 24 hours or so
-jet lagged
-new item: head cold
-middle seat (groaaaan)

Fold all of that into a 20 hour travel stint from Cairo to Ottawa and you have my Tuesday, Jan 8, 2008.

My last minutes in Egypt were spent trying to get rid of all my Egyptian money. Remarkably, when you need them, there are no touts around to bilk you. So I did a tour of all the bathrooms in the airport and tipped all the bathroom attendants. Mind you, I couldn't find any male attendants anywhere, so I had to skulk around the womens' toilets waiting for the female attendant to emerge so I could pour cash into her hands.

Okay, that sounded way more creepy than I'd intended.

I hate the idea of restroom attendants. I get performance anxiety when I know there's someone skulking outside the stall with no other task but to monitor by excretions and, um, service my sanitary needs. Can there be a more demeaning job? So while I detest the service, I nonetheless feel for the servicepeople. And given that the airport was filled with European backpacker ingrates, I doubt that anyone else had been tipping these folks. Judging from the delight in their eyes when I rained sweet currency into their hands, I think I was correct.

That's me: the Santa Claus of toilet generosity. Okay, that too sounded way more creepy than I'd intended. Change of subject in 3, 2, 1....

To say I am relieved to be home would be accurate, though a tad underexpressed. I was further relieved to find my lone houseplant still clinging to life, and none of my "valuables" looted by curious neighbours. I've yet to venture down to the mail room, though, to check on my stack of junk mail.

What I have found, though, is that my piece of crap Dell Inspiron has once again crashed on me, and I cannot restart it. I am soooo through with Dell. Remarkably, for once in my life I had done something genuinely smart. Hours before I left for Egypt, I backed up EVERYTHING onto an external hard drive, so I'm sittin' pretty. And snotty.

Speaking of which, I'm also sucking back mountains of Neo Citran and sipping canned chicken broth (yummy, I know) in hopes that I will be well enough in a few hours to slouch to the office. I also hope I'll be well enough to attend this: a film about the mining exploitation of Guyana, to be screened at the National Archives later this evening. For free. So come. Once again, the link is www.undermined.ca.

That is all for today. See ya.

Last Night In Cairo

Me, about 3 steps up on the Great Pyramid of Khephren, the second biggest on the Giza Plateau. Photo by Andrew Currie.

Yes, I peed in the Temple of Karnak. And no, I'm not remorseful about it. See, I really really really had to go. And I should get points for managing to do it while hundreds (maybe thousands!) of tourists wandered by. Besides, the bloody structure has been standing in the open for thousands of years, exposed to rain, hail, wind, sand, light, cold and smog; it was meant to withstand a little urine. What it can't withstand is all the "officials" beckoning tourists to bribe them in exchange for access to the more delicate portions of the historic site.

These are my final few hours in Egypt. My back is still killing me, and I'm limping about like the villain of a 1930s horror movie. About 24 hours ago, I came down with a nasty fever and am still recovering. Mind you, if you're going to be sick in Egypt, it may as well be in the $300/night Semiramis Intercontinental Hotel, where my comfort knows no bounds. My illness, however, prevented me from visiting the Red and Bent pyramids, which would have been pretty cool.

A word about touts: several people have emailed me to offer advice on how to deal with aggressive touts and salesmen. While I appreciate the advice, I should point out that I'm no stranger to such behaviour, having travelled extensively in the developing world. Maybe it's something peculiar to this season, but the toutism in Egypt has been unbearably intense during our visit. The standard strategies of always saying no, saying nothing at all, feigning ignorance of English, or even carrying no money, sometimes don't work on this crowd. At Khan al-Khalili market in Cairo, touts would try to physically drag us into their stores! Some, upon being rebuffed, would shout insults to our backs. At one point, one of them even pulled me halfway out of a taxi I was attempting to board; I feared it would come to blows.

Of my decades of adventure travel, this has been my first experience with locals actually physically touching me in a menacing way. When I venture out alone, mind you, I look like an Arab and people pretty much leave me be. But in tourist rich areas, everyone is fair game for the occasionally threatening tactics, whether I'm with my white colleague or not. This is what I mean about Egypt's toutism being off the scale in terms of aggression, and why I would not recommend this place as a tourist destination for inexperienced travellers.

But for those who can tolerate such things, or who are willing to insulate themselves in tour groups or with expensive guides, Egypt is a fascinating place rich with living history and modern intrigue. Even the less aggressive touts become funny after a while. They all read from the same script. They ask where you're from, you say "Canada", and --to a man-- they reply, "Oh! Canada Dry!" Then they take another look at me and say, "You look Egyptian!" This happened so often that at first it was funny, then became annoying, then became funny again after we lost count of its occurrences.

On our last night in Luxor, Andrew and I enjoyed a sunset felucca ride down the Nile, just a few hundred metres from the West Bank and the Valley of the Kings. With a little bit of imagination, you could imagine Pharaonic boats plying the magic hour, or even the boats of Alexander come to claim their Egyptian jewel in the Persian war prize.

And this evening, I dined in the hotel's Italian restaurant, overlooking Cairo's stretch of Nile, as all around me, Italians, French, Germans and Arabs chain smoked and imbibed fatty foods. See, Egypt is, in many ways, more European than African. Europe has claimed it for millennia. It has been ruled by the British, the French, the Turks, the Persians, the Greeks and the Romans. All these nations still claim a sort of romantic ownership of the place. But it speaks well of the robustness of Egyptian culture that its centuries of occupation by foreign powers have in no way compromised Egypt's sense of itself.

The culture is so refreshingly robust that it seems to exist apart from ubiquitous American influence. The television is replete with Arabic and European content; American content is hard to find. Indeed, even American pop music is remarkably rare here, as the indigenous music and film industries are strong enough to weather any sort of competition.

Speaking of European TV content, I've been particularly enjoying the news broadcasts of France 24, an English language news station from France. I think I need to spend more time in Europe.

And speaking of US influence, I have neglected to report on one very interesting observation. When I arrived in Cairo airport last week, what did I see on the tarmac, kept at a respectful distance by security trucks and encircled by men in black suits and sunglasses? Yep, Air Force One. Or maybe it was one of the decoys. I can only assume it was on its way from Benazir Bhutto's funeral.

Our overpriced (and annoying) guide taking my photo on the Giza plateau, while Andrew photographs his butt crack. Photo by Andrew Currie.
As many of you know, I consider myself a bit of a massage connoisseur. I've travelled the world sampling different styles, and even learning a few. I'll try it all: Swedish, aromatherapy, Ayurvedic, Thai, Rolf, Shiatsu, reflexology.... so long as it involves me doing absolutely nothing, and someone else poking and prodding me to make me feel better, I'm all for it.

My stay in Egypt has been no different. During my ten days here, I've had three massages in three different hotels. (I figure the hotel masseuses/masseurs are most likely to be above board). Here's the rundown. The first one, given by a really goodlooking chick at the Pyramids Meridien in Giza, was a true waste of time. She giggled a lot and barely touched me, with made me more tense than when I went in. In retrospect, I wonder if she was hoping to solicit some of her "extra" services after hours. This seemed unlikely to me at the time, considering it was a family resort-style hotel.

The second one was given by a matronly middle-aged British nurse at the Movenpick hotel in Luxor. Hers was an airy-fairy aromatherapy approach, something I usually don't have a lot of tolerance for. But I was very surprised by the potency of this experience. While there was nothing special about the firmness or style of her touch, I suspect the order of her touches, combined with her choice of oils, just knocked me right out --in a good way!-- like I'd taken half a bottle of melatonin.

The last was just a few hours ago, a Swedish-style pounding given by a burly middle aged man who was probably a butcher in a previous life. I feel that I'm now ready to be marinated and placed on the grill.

Now, I'm typically a fan of the hard styles of massage, particularly Rolfing. But I have to conclude that in this trip, it was the aromatherapy massage that was tops. In case anyone cares.


In Other News

Congratulations to my parents on their 50th wedding anniversary! I'll be lucky to make it to my 50th birthday...

After the Iowa primaries, Gambling911.com has Obama ahead of Hilary in terms of betting odds. Not to me counted out, my man Al Gore still leads the pack with 5-1 odds. I'm not giving up on my prediction yet!

No one knows Pakistani intrigue like Brother Margolis.

Everyone has been sending me this: Intel pulls out of the One Laptop Per Child board, with intentions to push its competitor product onto the market and drown out OLPC. Intel sucks.

My friend Tahmena has shared with us her new blog, describing her experiences with Muslim villages in Southeast Asia.

Sarah sends us this great "poppy" science fiction site.

That be all.... signing out from Cairo!

Luxorious

Hanging out in the Valley of the Kings. (Photo by Andrew Currie.)

Greetings from the lobby of the Movenpick Jolie Ville hotel, near Luxor. We have checked out and have 7 hours to kill before our overnight train ride back to Cairo. We're taking this opportunity to relax and lavishly enjoy the free wifi offered by this extremely comfortable facility.

Today we visited the Temples of Karnak. Yes, we took time to also do a cheap version of the classic Johnny Carson Karnak routine (video forthcoming), so don't ask. The temples of Karnak are an enormous facility, about 1.5km by 800m, containing obelisks, chapels and other stone artistic treasures dedicated to the Theban gods. Karnak was first built during the reign of Rameses III (12th century BC), and was maintained as a place of business and worship for 1500 years. Most of it has decayed and crumbled, but what remains provides quite a taste of what must have been one of the world's most impressive architectural achievments. In fact, I would say that Karnak is as impressive an engineering feat as the Great Pyramids themselves, so colossal and intricate are its elements, which include scores of ram-headed sphinxes, obelishs, giant pillars, temples and even a giant artificial lake, fed by the water table. To have even designed such a thing speaks volumes about the scientific prowess of the ancients.

I am convinced that if Karnak had been more intact during the time of Herotodus, it would have been counted among the Wonders of the World.

Of course, I've been reading about Karnak for decades, and always suspected that one day I would stroll its avenues. But in those fantasies, I never imagined the clouds of annoying tourists blocking my view, scurrying about like rats in a granary, many rarely even looking up to perceive the true grandeur of the wonder before them. It caused us to rank the annoyingness of various tourist origins. I won't mention which nationality came out as the most annoying, but I will happily report that the Japanese are the least annoying; they are generally happy, respectiful, stylish, engaged and quiet.

I've neglected to mention an important personal connection to the Valley of the Kings. Called "the greatest Egyptological find since Tutankhamen", in 1995 Dr Kent Weeks discovered the tombs of the many sons of Rameses II, a find that has turned out to be the single largest tomb network ever discovered in Egypt. (It's amazing that such stupefying discoveries are still being made in the modern era). The complex is not yet open to the public, but Dr Weeks' online project, The Theban Mapping Project, gives us all a glimpse into the design and layout of the KV5 site.

It seems that an old childhood friend, and one of my early polymathic inspirations, was intimately involved in the development of the Theban Mapping Project. Walton Chan is an artist, animator, engineer and architect. When last we communicated, Good Morning America was about to report on his project ---from a hot air balloon above the Valley of the Kings!

Indeed, my one regret from this trip is that I won't have time to rent a hot air balloon and make a similar journey.

I've written a lot so far about the antiquities of Egypt, but very little about the bustle of modern Egypt. Cairo is a gorgeous, clean and modern megalopolis. Its subway is efficient and pristine. Several times, I had to remind myself that I was riding a subway in Africa! Luxor is cinematic in the way that high priced hotels and cobbled boulevards on the East Bank complement so well the ancient temples, ochre dust and reaching palm trees of the West Bank. Peppering it all is the smoky, colourful din of rich, Islamic life. Turbans, burqas, veils, luxuriant full-length embroidered suits and stylish leather shoes adorn passersby, lending further romantic zeal to the place.

Yes, the hassle of touts is intolerable. But today it's all quite acceptable, because it's the sabbath, and everyone is leaving us alone. The melodic call to prayer echoes from the various minarettes around town, providing a glorious soundscape to mirror the blinding noon sky and the pastel allures of the rising and setting suns.

And threading through both cities, eternal and silent, is the immortal Nile, sparkling and redolent with history.

Good Luck at Luxor

(Photo by Andrew Currie)

Luxor is simply lovely. It is the romantic stereotype of a former Nile capital: palm-lined river banks patrolled by lazy sailboats and ferries, Islamic traders bustling back and forth; on the East Bank, the imposing rusty pillars of the ancient Luxor temple, and, on the West Bank, the gateway to the storied Valley of the Kings. Above it all, hot air ballons dance against the blinding blue sky.

Luxor is also the "hassle capital" of Egypt, with touts, salesmen and drivers pestering us with every step. I've travelled a lot in the developing world, and like to think I've learned to "go with the flow" when it comes to such tactics. But in Egypt I have found the most annoyingly aggressive of this breed. Touts place items in your hand while you walk, then demand payment for it. They start conversations then insist that the dialogue is in fact a binding contract. They never ever take no or --as Andrew discovered-- "leave us the @!#$ alone" for an answer.

Perhaps on another day, I'd be more forgiving. But we had just got off a jerky overnight train. We had barely slept and had not bathed. My back is still bugging me, to the point where every step is agony. I can put up with all of that. But to deal with those factors while fending off the unending barrage of touts is simply unbearable.... and I'm one of the nice ones. In fact, as Andrew keeps reminding me, I'm too nice. I'm very forgiving of these individuals who must scrounge to make a living. What they don't understand is that if they'd simply give us room to think and breathe, we would happily pay more than market price for most items and services. We have money and we wish to spend it ...lavishly! We just don't want to be annoyed into it.

The hassle culture is so prevalent here that I would hesitate before recommending these locales to many friends as a tourism destination. If you're not prepared to have your blood presssure climb into quadruple digits, Egypt is not the place for you.

That aside, today was filled with more explorations of Egypt's storied antiquities. The gateway to the Valley of the Kings are dual megolithic statues called the Colossi of Memnon, each about 18m in height. The Greeks named them such because they believed them to be statues of legendary King Memnon. In fact, they were built by Pharaoh Amonhotep III centuries before the Greeks ruled this land. Weirdly, the nothern statue was famous in Greek times as being a "singing statue". It seems that during sunrise, the temperature and pressure changes caused the colossus to emit a weird wailing noise, which the Greeks believed to be the cry of Memnon greeting his mother, Eos the Dawn. When the statue was repaired in the 2nd century AD, the strange noise ceased. Most interesting about the colossi is the Greek graffiti scratched onto their legs, perhaps dating back to Ptolemaic times!

Despite my earlier chastisement of the Egyptians for their poor management of the Pyramids of Giza (see photo above), I was very impressed by how they have preserved and protected the Valley of the Kings. The Valley, of course, is where the tombs of many Pharaohs --including that of Tutankhamun-- were secretly located, to fool erstwhile ancient (and modern) grave robbers --with mixed results. Its entrance is a modern museum-style facility with information stations and a controlled security station --something the Pyramids desperately need!

We explored a number of tombs, including that of Tut himself. Tut's tomb is among the least impressive, but is undoubtedly the most famous. Similar to our earlier good fortune at the Pyramid of Cheops, for a few minutes Andrew and I managed to find ourselves alone with Tut's mummy, partially unwrapped, and with his famous golden sarcophagus, both recently returned to this site.

For those cognizant of history, it can be a very powerful moment, to stare into the unseeing eyes of King Tut himself, to appreciate his leathery, blackened skin, odd shaped skull and diminutive stature. The experience ties one to the trunk of history, and is a reminder that all great figures were merely mortal, fragile humans, even this boy king, once the wealthiest and most powerful figure in the world, his tragic story and rediscovery now part of the fabric of human world culture.

Tomorrow, on to the great temples at Karnak, then back on the overnight sleeper train to Cairo!

Photomania

Still haven't uploaded any Egypt pics. But here are a few by Andrew:

1. Here we are in one of the architects' tombs at the feet of the Great Pyramids. What are we thinking? "How will the locals try to fleece us next?"



2. Here's the standard tourist photo:



3. And yes, proof that I peed on the Giza Plateau:

Pyramid Power

Greetings from the top bunk of the sleeper train from Cairo, en route to
Luxor. Andrew is in the bunk below me, and I fear odours tend to rise.
(But snoring expands in all directions, so take that!) We have just
finished watching the Dr Who xmas special on my laptop and have retired to
what I am sure will be a restless, difficult sleep, as the train trundles
noisily along the banks of the Nile.

It occurs to me that my most vivid travelling memories involve train
travel. Seventeen years ago, I was nearly shot by a border official (long
story) while crossing from Thailand into Malaysia by rail. The sweet
pastoral smells of the fields and tranquil images of schoolchildren, while
en route from Penang to Kuala Lumpur via train, will always linger with me.
And the sounds of wild animals howling at night, as the open-window
sleeper train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai crept along nearly 2 decades ago,
remains one of my most treasured recollections.

Adding to those priceless memories is today's supreme adventure. After
once more braving the wilds of baksheesh ("tipping") country, we managed to
secure entrance into the Great Pyramid of Cheops itself, the largest and
most impressive of the plateau's wonders.

We had every expectation of a crowded tourist experience. But imagine our
surprise --and delight-- at finding ourselves the only living humans within
this ancient tomb!

The trek involved what seemed like a 200m long claustrophobic climb up a
thin shaft, carved about sixty degrees up into the pyramid's interior. I
had seen this climb in documentaries 30 years ago, and always knew I would
one day do it... But never realized how happy and unafraid I would be doing
it!

The shaft ended at a brief tunnel, through which one must crouch in order
to progress. As I was a few minutes in front of Andrew, I rushed ahead so
that I could savour the unique experience of being absolutely alone within
the inner sanctum of the Great Pyramid of Cheops.

The sanctum is an antechamber at the heart of the stone mountain, pitch
black but for a tiny artificial light erected in one corner. I needed my
little penlight to fully perceive the room. I was shocked --and briefly
terrified-- to find myself alone in the dark with the altar that once
supported the mummy of pharaoh Cheops.

I paced out the room: about 8m by 4m and maybe 6m in height. And I did one
more thing: I lay on the floor and imagined Egyptian slaves stocking the
room with gold to accompany Cheops into the afterlife, some of the slaves
compelled to lay down their lives in that very room, so that Cheops would
have servants in the underworld.

Andrew quickly joined me and we took (non-damaging) videos and photos as
best we could in the darkness. As usual, mine wont be uploaded till I get
home. But one of Andrew's is available on his blog (acurrie.wordpress.com).

This has been without a doubt one of --if not the-- most profound travel
experiences I have yet tasted. It was tainted by one thing: the discovery
of litter on Cheops' altar, and of modern graffiti on the walls of the
tomb, much of it dated this year.

It is sickening and saddening that so many cannot appreciate the wonder of
this ancient accomplishment, and that so many who have been so privileged
to have visited it have nonetheless been idiotic, destructive and
uninformed, while thousands more would give all they own to see and touch
what Andrew and I saw and touched today.

Onward to Luxor and the Valley of the Kings!

Grateful In 2007

Regular Deonandians will know that my first post of each year is usually a
personal one, in which I list the things in the previous year for which I
am most grateful. This year's inaugural post is a tad different as I am
writing it on my pda at 2am in a hotel room in Cairo, gradually becoming
more stoned on fine, fine back medication.

So let's begin. The top 5 things from 2007 for which I am most grateful:

5. In 2007 the gamble I took in 2006, of starting my own full time
consulting firm, finally paid dividends. I am now comfortably
self-employed, loving each day of work, though I have to find a way to
balance in my exercise and nutrition schedules!

4. In 2007 I taught my first ever complete university classes, at the
University of Ottawa: international health theory (which is still ongoing)
and research methods. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed teaching and by
how much I actually like my students (some of whom, I fear, are reading
this post!) I suspect university teaching will grow into an increasingly
important part of my life.

3. In 2007 I got to know better all the children in my life, from cousins
to neighbours to the children of friends. As I enter middle age, it only
now dawns on me how important children are to my own happiness, and I am
grateful for that revelation.

2. In 2007, I continued to meet and enjoy the romantic ministrations of
remarkable women from all walks of life. I even found time to enjoy two
monogamous relationships (yb and dh). Both, I fear, were not good long
term matches for me, but both shall remain in my heart for the duration of
my life, alongside the great loves whose affections I will always be
grateful for .

1. While others lost loved ones in 2007, I remain blessed to have all of my
immediate family stile hale and healthy. I know such a circumstance is not
sustainable, but I remain thankful for it while it lasts.

Here's hoping 2008 turns sorrow into joy, and joy into ecstasy, for all of
us.

Defending The Pyramids

Yes, I peed on the Giza plateau. No, it was not against a pyramid, but
rather against the tomb of one of the pyramids' architects. And no, I am
not remorseful about it. The fact is, I really really really had to pee
and there were people everywhere and no toilet within a 1km radius. So I
did what I had to do, adding no more physical insult than has already been
given by 5000 years of slaves' excrement, camel shit and, more recently,
acid rain. And no, I don't consider this an insult to the dead, either,
but rather a celebration of life. And, to be candid, I would never dream
of peeing against one of the actual pyramids, such is my reverence for the
things that I am even a tad regretful to have soiled them with my very
touch, however undamaging it might have been.

Besides, something everyone should know is that the Giza plateau is sadly a
modern garbage dump. Empty coke cans, cigarette butts and plastic bottles
litter the site. Plastic bags are shoved between the stones of the great
monuments; and camel and horse dung are so plentiful that you'd think the
pyramids were home to the royal stables.

The natural refuse (shit and piss) I don't have a problem with, since it is
quickly reclaimed by the desert. But the human garbage is inexcusable.

The site is patrolled by the so-called "tourist and antiquities police",
which is a dreadful mistake. Today I witnessed one such "policeman" toss
an empty bottle into a hole on the side of the pyramids. Then he smiled to
Andrew and me, held open the rope separating us from that restricted
portion of the pyramid, and insisted that we break the law by climbing the
great structure (in exchange for a fee, of course). We eventually managed
to decline, but only after the fellow pestered us for some minutes.

And he was not alone. The officials tasked with protecting humanity's
greatest architectural antiquity regularly troll for opportunities to
exchange damaging opportunities (like photographing frescoes) for pocket
change, so poorly are they remunerated. I've even heard of tourists being
allowed to abscond with actual chunks of the pyramids! The things are
mountainous, but even they would not last a generation if such a practice
were more widespread.

The culture of visitor harrassment is so pervasive here that it is
seriously restricting my ability to fully appreciate this experience. I
suspect it's also affecting the health of the monuments and indeed Egypt's
ability to more fully profit from its treasures in a more sustainable,
respectful and safe way.

At this stage, I would argue for the site to be taken out of the hands of
the Egyptian government and be handed to UNESCO, to be administered by a
board of archaeologists whose main concern would be the preservation of
these sublime structures.

Sadly, a more likely scenario is that the plateau would be licensed to
Disney or Coke, to protect it in exchange for exclusive branding rights.
Don't laugh, it could happen.

I would argue that the site does not ethically belong to modern Egyptians
(who, after all, do not share race, culture, religion, government,
language or even values with their ancient predecessors) or to the present
Egyptian government, but to the entire world, to be treasured and
experienced by all peoples of the Earth.

To be frank, I'm not particularly impressed by the "diligence" being shown
by modern Egypt in protecting this most precious of world treasures. Hell,
I have yet to see a single garbage bin anywhere on the sprawling plateau!
That says a lot.