Bring back Drake

I have been accused, mon dieu, of writing nothing other that utter drivel. My chief accuser is actually myself, but it was done in an alcohol-induced out-of-body moment so can actually be counted as third party objectivity. It seems I shy from intellectual revelation and opt for banal statements – blogs that don’t even require full sentences but rather just lists of whatever drips from my brain. It’s like everyone here has the cerebral capacity of, say, the Economist whereas I just have a tattered, well worn copy of People.

I could join the minions of other workers here in Kabul and write my two cents worth over the establishment of democracy, the merits of counter narcotic efforts, state building and support to government… but will that actually help the situation? I fear there are already too many opinions out here, none of them constructive, all locked in a battle to prove themselves more intellectually superior than their overpaid, underqualified, UN-employed neighbour. An easy night out at l’Atmosphere can turn into a game of The Krypton Factor with each smart arse trying to out smart arse the next guy. GIVE IT UP ALREADY.

Bring back Drake Studdebakke and his lust for boxed red wine, shuttlecocks and long hard nights on the whiskey. As an unemployed bum, Studdebakke was quite possibly the most interesting shuttlecock salesmen in Kabul. Like Drake, I prefer observing the mating habits of expats than debating the virtues of Wolesi Jirgas or whether or not aid money should flow directly to the corrupt government or via the hoards of corrupt NGOs. I also advocate that badminton should be declared Afghanistan’s national sport, poppies should be legalised and Afghan women should be introduced to the thong. Just think what the thong could do for women’s sexual liberation? And for that matter, for men’s?