With so many pedantic lefties running about accusing me of misinterpreting my own opinion I

almost feel guilty writing an opinion piece. Difficult though it may be, I shall attempt to rise above it.

Over the past month the ostentatious (albeit ad hoc) opinions of certain people have made me feel

almost as bad as I did when the home tree in 'Avatar' came crashing to the ground prompting me look

up as many articles on colonization as I could be bothered to read out of sheer hatred of liberal guilt

trips. It is amazing to see just how far some people will go in attempting to validate their delusions.

Erasmus students in particular should be aware that the liberal rabble on campus are complex and tragic

creatures who are (for some reason) surprisingly determined to make everyone hate them for bogging

down intellectual debate on campus in exchange for smut.

But with each KPS meeting sounding more and more like a frantic shuffling of feet at a cliff edge, I

feel as though I should ignore certain desperate cries for attention and Move (see what I just did,

there?) on to other issues which are much more important then a metal box in a nauseating university

loo... Like carnival for instance!

Don't get me wrong, I hate carnival just as much as I do any other public display of idiocy but at least

the groups of work mates who think that it's cute to dress up as a group of smurfs know that they're

taking the mickey while the Byronic heroes at the university believe that their crap is making a

difference to the betterment of the student body. Now I know you're all very unimpressed and

frantically wagging your finger at me while asking yourself where the stick begins and I end, but you

must admit that the idea of having potential doctors, architects, engineers, lawyers, lecturers and so on

hopelessly plastered and dressed in stupid (yet, carefully chosen) costumes isn't a comforting thought.

Less so when you're told all the 'hilarious' stories about the massive(!) and grande(!) time they all had a

few days later when they've regained consciousness. Alright, enough with the sarcasm.

On second thoughts though, screw it. I'm enjoying myself, and if there's one thing I've learnt this past

month it's that if it feels good, say it! Right?

Where was I? Did anybody realize that carnival was extended this year? I'm not sure whether it was

intentional or not, but a couple of days after carnival was meant to have come to an end some

extremely dedicated individuals took to the streets of Valletta in mismatched clothing and very original

hairstyles, chanting into a megaphone and beating a drum. Charming, isn't it? Coming to think of it

though, I doubt that it was an extension of the festivities. Carnival has a purpose and a history, and

usually attracts thousands, not a pathetic two hundred and fifty misguided socialists. This lot must have

overslept throughout the carnival period and decided to host a belated celebration. You didn't honestly

think that it was a human rights thing, did you?

Yet for some reason, our poor capital city had to suffer further merriment, still. A few days later, some

tubby bloke in a suit a few sizes too small, led a small regiment of toothless gorgons through the streets

of the capital. This time, however, they were accompanied by loud music, flags, scary costumes, a lot

more people, and a couple of clowns. Tisk, tisk. So maybe it was an extension of carnival after all.

Somewhere in between all this tomfoolery, my blood pressure (and sense of humor) were tested

further by an article which had the whole island in a panic for a couple of days. It has been a horrible

month, indeed.

While flipping through a newspaper which my father must have bought by mistake, I came across an

article which bothered me regardless of the fact that I wasn't personally affected by it. The article in

question spoke of the removal of the possibility of answering an exam question in Maltese as of next

June. I have never answered an exam question in Maltese, nor will I ever, but the mere thought of

making the Maltese language redundant at the University of Malta is slightly less ridiculous than it is

embarrassing. It's already bad enough that a disappointing amount of law students, who plan on

practicing their profession in Malta, are unable to put together a coherent sentence in Maltese (stop

pointing).

My initial mood of shock and disgust soon turned into one of relief when I remembered that certain

other issues would forever be cast into the cesspit from whence they came if a genuinely gripping and

immersive issue (which had no political implications) would stir within the student body the urge to

unite on a matter which would not only affect students, but the Maltese language, and consequently, the

island as a whole. Fortunately, however, my lack of fate in the paper in question was proved right, and

the issue was in fact the usual hallucination which befalls certain journalists who desperately need a

story to cover in order to save their severely maimed reputation.

Besides having my scepticism blown inside out and the occasional bout of sincere irritation, this sort of

nonsense motivates me to no end. Its all in the wrist.

Robert Thake