“Laugh and the horse will laugh with you.”
I meant: “Laugh and the world will laugh with you.”
This image never fails to touch and disturb me deeply.
It shows a matador that during a Corrida has a breakdown, sat down in front of the bull that he was trying to kill and started crying. After that particular corrida (bullfight) the matador whose name is Alvaro Munera gave up bullfighting for good.
A poignant part of the image for me though is the bull shown already punctured and hurt by several spears inflicted on him by Picadores mounted on horses to weaken him. The bull is bleeding heavily and as he looks at the matador he seems to be saying: ”Why have you done this to me? What have I done to you to deserve it? I’ve never meant any harm to you.”
I went to a corrida during a vacation in Spain when I was young out of curiosity to see what it was all about and I was totally horrified.
What disgusted me most though wasn’t so much the Corrida itsef, for as brutal as it was, but the thousands of spectators, that included many women and children, enjoying the spectacle and inciting the bullfighter with cries of joy to kill the bull. Soon after that I went home and decided that I would never go back to Spain until the Corrida would be abolished, a resolution that I kept to this day in spite that I like Spain, Spanish culture and that I speak the language like a native.
To me those spectators didn’t seem any different from the ancient Romans that went to the Coliseum to see Christians being killed and eaten by lions or gladiators fighting each other to death. In fact historically the bullfight derives from those brutal games
The same sort of feeling I have for those millions of spectators that pay huge sums to see boxers hitting their brains until one of them is knocked out unconscious.
It may seem too drastic to decide of not going to Spain, which is otherwise a lovely country, unless bullfight is banned, especially considering that horrendous abuses against animals and people are committed in many countries such as China, to mention one, where each year they celebrate the Yulin dog meat festival during which many dogs are electrocuted, burned, crashed and skinned while alive and conscious besides allowing the sales of tigers and rhino products and ivory. However, if people would refuse to commercially support countries where horrible crimes are perpetrated against animals and humans I’m sure that such barbarities would stop immediately.
As Ghandi showed against the British boycott is the most powerful weapon.
The writing at the bottom of the photo are the words of the Toreador after the bullfight for which I give the translation in case that you can’t read Spanish
“And all of a sudden the bull looked at me with the innocence of all animals reflected in his eyes, but also with an imploration. It was a charge against the inexplicable injustice, a supplication in the face of an unnecessary cruelty. This time he felt sorry for me and I felt as if I was the worst garbage of the world.”
So here are Rules I had to follow (copied from AdiC’s) :
Gosh! I hate competitions, especially literary ones. This is why I’ve never submitted my work to the Nobel Prize of literature that of course I would have won hands down if I had. Modesty aside…
But I’m not a coward and I decided to have a go at this daunting task that would make the likes of Homer, Dante, Cervantes and Shakespeare tremble with fear if they had been asked to do it.
Now, I will tell you the story of this little girl called Chirpy Teresa, chirpy because she was particularly chirpy and lively like a little bird.
As the story goes one sunny summer day she was laying on the green grass of a meadow when all of a sudden she caught with her hand a pretty butterfly and so excited she was that she cried “I got her! I got her!”
Well, that was OK for Teresa but not for the poor butterfly that was being squeezed by Teresa’s hand and feeling rather uncomfortable. So with a faint whisper the poor butterfly said: “You are hurting me by squeezing my wings. Please let me go, remember that I too am a daughter of God!”
On hearing it Teresa blushed with a big sense of guilt, at once she stretched her hand and let the butterfly to fly away.
Now I’ve counted the words and they are 233 so in order to make them 250 or a bit over I’m going to ask a question that came into my mind a few days ago ago which is: If women came from Venus and men from Mars why didn’t they stay where they were instead of coming to Earth to bother sweet creatures such as little butterflies and similar peaceful native earthly beasts?
Time five minutes
And my nominees are:
He was just a cute and gentle wolf pup that helped Little Red Riding Hood who got lost in the woods to find her way to her granny’s cottage.
Once they arrived at the cottage he licked her sick Granny’s feet and nose to make her feel better.
Then had a lovely lunch with them of chicken and rice, plus a wild gooseberry pudding for dessert that Red Riding Hood’s granny cooked.
He stayed there for a while listening to wonderful stories of little good wolves that granny told them and then departed waving his paws while yelping: ‘Bye-bye to both of you my dears and I sincerely hope that you get well soon granny!’
This is the real story of Little Red Riding Hood that I got from a wolf, believe it or not.
Now that we know the truth I wonder why grown ups keep telling tall nasty stories to children of wolves being Big and Bad?