Sigmund On The Beach

Nevermind that within one week of being elected I’ve been associated with an obscure philosopher I had never heard of before. I googled ‘Peter Sloterdijk’ and found pictures of a rather long in the tooth Dutch man sporting a formidable moustache. Un filosofo coi baffi. And the blockheads back home get all agitated because we’re big on facial hair in The Malta Centrist Party. Don’t trust a man with a moustache, they say. Their intolerance knows no bounds. All they want is a man in a blue suit who sports a blue tie and has ‘conservative’ written all over his forehead. 

My point is that, to be transparently honest, I hadn’t heard of Sloterdijk. But I’m flattered to be in the intellectual company of such men. It’s all kudos to me.

But the Sigmund cocktail is more here-and-now. Our sources are more in-your-face. Here are the ingredients for the winning recipe:

1) A dash of Liberal Zapatero (Not too tricky - just mention the words ‘divorce’ and ‘agree’ and you’re considered a liberal revolutionary down here)

2) Generous helpings of Tony Blair New Labour (’Call me Tony’ was a stroke of genius. Politicians who care and all that. And if they had ‘Cool Britannia’ why can’t we manufacture ‘Cooler Malta’? It sounds more groovy that Smart, right?)

3) Hints of Obama Charisma (the waving, the singing, the demonstrative rhetoric, the messages of Hope and Peace and Change and Brotherhood and Love)

4) Helpings of Sarkozy Inclusiveness (bring the enemy on board, charm him with important appointments. If Nicolas did it with Kushner, Xarabank man is easy meat).

5) Spoonfulls of Big Brother House Trasparency (Me in my T-shirt, me in my kitchen, me working out on the treadmill, me writing love letters, me buying vegetables, me walking hand in hand with Olga or Natasha or Veronika)

Take care Sloterdijks.