News From Finland (The World's Happiest Country)

[Mowl]

Regarding the life and work of one of Finland's most outrageous characters, Pekka Siitoin. Born in Varkaus, Finland on May 20th 1944, died December 8th 2003. Finns from the furthest extremes of the northern wilds are amazing characters. They have this reserve of hardiness that's quite a sight to behold. Fighting against the elements in Finnish Lapland takes a resolve not many can aspire to. But if you're born into it, then you can deal with things far better if you can create for yourself an outlet to vent your frustrations with life. Pekka Siitoin was a classic example of what can happen to you if you allow the elements to overcome you so much that you turn to drink, drugs, satanism, theatre absurd, and generally being and doing whatever the fuck you want to to help in dealing with the frozen conditions all around as well the lack of any proper daylight.



Pictured above in 1976 in his military outfit (not a Finnish one, but a Nazi one he acquired from a army surplus shop).

He loved to make people laugh, but he also loved the scare the bejeezus out of them by swinging in and out of character as himself one moment, Hitler the next, then Satan, and finally god himself. He sometimes surrounded himself with other crazy rednecks who played along with him more out of boredom with the mundane life of and in a permanent state of wintery darkness. When he came down to Helsinki, he was considered a harmless madman who really ought to be sectioned lest he kill himself - or anyone else.

Some Finns remember him with jocularity, others with hushed awe. What else can you do regarding a devil-worshiping drunken recluse (kind of like AN2, Myles, Saul, et al) who was considered a total eccentric and something of a laughing stock too. He cast spells on people he disliked or who he felt were plotting against him. He always reminded me of Tony Halme, the Finnish far right goon who wrestled, boxed, did some MMA, drank like a fish, ran for office and got voted in by a section of rednecks from up north who they thought would at least give them a few laughs.



Halme was assigned to a diplomatic post in the EU HQ, which was kind of when the penny dropped with these far right idiots who voted him in for the kicks and were now terrified of what he might do to Finnish international relations if he was allowed to speak his rhetoric. Halme was a Nazi, a violent homophobe who famously had the term 'EXIT ONLY' on his lower back with an arrow pointing to his arsehole. An outspoken nationalist, he was lampooned by every newspaper in the country bar the early True Finns type party literature. Later he would put a shotgun in his mouth and blow his own head off. The funeral was poorly attended, his record sank, everything that constituted his life was erased from the history books and he was consigned to the garbage bucket of national shame. I met him a few times over the years and one late night we had a run-in at a nightclub downtown when he said I bumped his elbow and made him spill his drink. I told him to grow a pair of balls and shut the fuck up. The half dozen ladies who surrounded him all bust their bags laughing at my audacity. Halme was too thick to figure out whether I was goading him or sharing a laugh with him, and was entirely nonplussed. But then he laughed along with the ladies, just in case, while I remained calm and collected. Got my drink, gave him a Ballyer grin and a cheeky wink, and returned to my table.

Another bizarre character who hung out with Siitoin was Kalervo Palsa from Kittilä, a crazy Finnish artist who specialized in paintings of men hanging themselves, usually by their own penis, which was depicted as growing out of the crotch, under the perineum, up the length of the spine, up over the neck and head, and the rope dropping from the head of the penis on which they hung. Sometimes the penis protruded out of the crotch area and up the front of the body and over the head. Hung. Dead. Masses of them, all slightly different, all depicting the same thing: every man kills the thing he loves, starting with himself.



A typical mixed media work by Palsa:



I went to see a retrospective of his work at Kiasma, the national art gallery. The French television show 'Eurotrash' were in town filming an article for their show which lampooned the most eccentric people and places all across Europe. I was interviewed for the clip by the two male twins who dressed as bald women on the show. Bizarre, unprecedented, etc, etc.

Sitiion is still considered a fucking lunatic who really should have been inside. But one has to remember that the isolation in which many redneck Finns live in up north can be very oppressive. Mix in some Viina and mushrooms and you're on your way to the moon. Mentally, at least. Here's some of his spoken word samples put to dark techno, it harks a little of Children Of Bodom, a Finnish death metal band named after a satanic ritualistic killing which happened a few years back in the country town of Bodom, north of Helsinki.



You can find another thread about this crazy bastard's life here:

Pekka Siitoin- Popular Finnish "Rock and Roller" and wannabe political philosopher.

He was rabidly anti-Catholic and through that supportive of the "Loyalist cause" which was reciprocated by the most scuzzy elements in Ulster in terms of having an appreciative interest in him. I wonder did he also make any impact on the South to during the 1970s and 1980s? View...

www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com

Quote: 'He was rabidly anti-Catholic and through that supportive of the "Loyalist cause" which was reciprocated by the most scuzzy elements in Ulster in terms of having an appreciative interest in him. I wonder did he also make any impact on the South to during the 1970s and 1980s?'

His impact on the world at large is at best minimal.

Anyone taking him seriously seriously needs their fake 'I'm a girl - with bollocks' head checked.

Especially twats like Swordid, the sad little man in the wheelchair who prefers to dress as and act as a female when in reality, his grey old balls are hanging down by his knobbly knees. Arsefield's: heh, trannies, loads of them: Val, Declan, Swordid. They make Siitoin and Halme appear intelligent, humanistic even. Imagine being so sad and lonely that you study pretty much full time sourcing things onlineabout Finland and Finnish people in order to try to troll the Mowl? Swordid's as gay as a tea party in drag. He actually DOES fancy the Mowl. Wants to hug me and pat me, comb my hair for me, fawn at my feet licking the sweat from between my toes and loving every minute of it, eh.

Poor Swordid: he has no life at all to speak of.

Poor Swordid.

 

[roc_abilly]

Happy Finnish Independence Day.

 

[Mowl]

Happy Finnish Independence Day.

Kiitos paljon!

It was spent doing traditional Finnish things like baking lemon-stuffed chicken, having very hot sauna and cold beer, and the Grand Ball at President Alexander Stubbs' palatial residence on Market Square. The turnout was magnificent, the streets were lined with people wearing their traditional student's caps and national medals awarded for various acts of kindness and indeed for the by-now very rare remaining soldiers of The Winter War on the steps of the parliament building, a very historic spot smack dab in the middle of the worst skirmishes during the First World War.

Sanna Marin and her husband Markus Räikkönen (although the pair are divorcing) made a huge entrance and stole the show. The dignity and stateliness of their walk through the palace to greet President Stubbs and his lady wife Suzanne Elizabeth Innes-Stubb held court in the main hallway with the National Symphony Orchestra playing in the background. The few remaining war veterans were given a standing ovation for their services to the country, then presented with medals for bravery and courage, grit and determination - the classic Finnish sisu.

Sanna and Marcus - they kind of put your Norma Foley's, Eamonn Ryan's and Roderick O'Gorman's to shame, eh?

Meanwhile, over in Ireland:

Oh dear, the helmet headed bint:

What the flying fuck IS that hairdo about?

Looks like a fucking helmet on her head.

Ireland's sexiest incumbent?

Is she a nun or something?

Or did the silly bint actually PAY someone to do that to her?

Wait - is she really a bloke under that helmet?

What's with the Liam Gallagher eyebrows anyway?

 

[Mowl]

Fifteen Interesting Facts You May Not Know About Finland:

1. Finland is known as the "Land of a Thousand Lakes," but in reality, it has around 188,000 lakes, making it one of the most lake-dense countries in the world.

2. The Finnish language is part of the Uralic language family, making it very different from most other European languages, with no relation to English, French, or German.

3. Finland is the home of the sauna, and there are approximately 2 million saunas in a country of just over 5 million people, meaning there’s about one sauna for every 2.5 people.

4. Finland consistently ranks as one of the happiest countries in the world according to the World Happiness Report, thanks to its high standard of living, excellent education system, and strong social safety nets.

5. Finland’s education system is internationally recognized for its excellence, with no standardized tests until the age of 16 and a focus on collaborative learning rather than competition.

6. Finland is the birthplace of the popular mobile game "Angry Birds," which was created by Finnish game developer Rovio Entertainment and became a global sensation.

7. The country is known for its long winters, but many people embrace the cold by participating in activities such as ice swimming and ice fishing, often followed by a sauna session to warm up.

8. Finland has more forested land than any other European country, with forests covering about 75% of its total land area, making it a haven for nature lovers and outdoor activities.

9. The Finnish tradition of "sisu" is a unique concept that represents determination, resilience, and the ability to persevere through tough challenges, even in the face of adversity.

10. Finland is home to Santa Claus, who resides in Lapland, a northern region of the country. The Santa Claus Village, located near Rovaniemi, is a popular tourist destination year-round.

11. Finland has a strong coffee culture, and it has one of the highest per capita coffee consumption rates in the world, with the average Finn drinking about 12 kg (around 26 pounds) of coffee per year.

12. Finland is the birthplace of the sport of pesäpallo, which is a form of baseball and is considered the national sport of the country.

13. The Northern Lights, or Aurora Borealis, are often visible in Finland, especially in Lapland, making it one of the best places in the world to witness this stunning natural phenomenon.

14. Finland boasts a large number of UNESCO World Heritage Sites, including the old wooden town of Porvoo and the beautiful Kvarken Archipelago, which is located in the Gulf of Bothnia.

15. Finland has a unique legal system that includes the concept of "everyman's right," which allows people to roam freely in nature, pick berries, mushrooms, and enjoy outdoor activities, regardless of land ownership.

Any of you have anything to say about Ireland in the same manner?

I mean, fifteen reasons why a pint of Guinness is more expensive in Dublin than it is up here won't cut it - neither will mickey-measuring contests about which sites have the most traffic. It ain't Arsefield's either, by the way. Ireland's dead. She killed herself. You've killed and maimed too many tourists and nobody cares about Dublin city anymore bar the drunks. It's a filthy fucking hole in the ground and there's nothing this generation can/will do to improve it. You're a liar. You're a rip-off country and culture. You're not to be trusted with anything, least of all votes for things that matter. You don't care who's in power or what they're about because you'd rather gripe about it than get up off your arses.

Me? I got up, then I got out. Now I'm laughing. Smiling out loud too. Loving life, loving the laughs I get from you gombs thinking you're all over it it. You ain't. You're so far back in the past you have no idea what time it is nor what season you're in. You don't even know whose slave you are at the moment. You do what you're told. You spit, shit, shout, and roar when you're told to. You have next to no autonomy at all. You have nothing left to be proud of either. You sold it all for a handful of magic beans dealt out by con-artists and then you planted them in concrete. Your best days are long since passed. Your recent general election was a clown car pile-up - and few of you even took the time to bother voting: because you know there's no point, right?

I vote. Every time. Not because I have to but because I insist on it: my taxes afford me that right. I pay them very happily and never lie: mostly because I don't need to. I see where my taxes go all around me, hence us being the happiest nation in the world. While you live in a shit-hole that hates your guts and would happily see you emigrate or die - it's all the same to dear old Ireland. She's rather over-crowded but she's too weak to say no. She doesn't even have the courage to ask the ECB for help in paying down the debt incurred by so many immigrants pounding on her front doors and looking for any way into the kip so they can sponge up as much and as long as they can. Paddy and Bridie aren't very welcome abroad these days. Everyone knows what you are, you cheap slut. Everyone knows you're riddled with STDs and nits. Nobody bar the hungriest of cunts wants to play with you.

In twenty years from today Ireland will be a distant memory, sung about in dreary old ballads by The Dubliners and The Wolf Tones.

List fifteen things Ireland has that nobody else has (bar the national debt and a global reputation for kiddie-fiddling) and let's see who's happier, shall we?

Or maybe list fifteen things that would change Ireland for the better?

I dare you.

 

[Mowl]

Saunas have ‘exploded in popularity’ around Ireland

Sauna attendance is on an upward trend, especially when combined with the popularity of sea swimming.

www.thejournal.ie

So now Paddy and Bridie are interested in the sauna experience. This guy built one for commercial use next to the sea. Bright idea, I can see it taking off. His sauna is based on what calls a Lithuanian design, which is bollocks. He probably bought the parts from there, but they modeled it on sauna designs from over two hundred years ago here in Finland. The advantage of the barrel version is that you don't have to add layers of insulation such as one must when building a sauna indoors. The Finnish traditional smoke sauna (the pinnacle of any sauna experience) is a wooden shed built more or less in exactly the same design:



A few dozen trees, a mixture of mud and crushed grass to fill the gaps along the horizontal, and bunch of rocks to build the pit with, and you're good to go.

Indoor saunas are usually either electric (like your kettle: an element heats up the stones, you throw water on them, and zip - you're cooking.

Some have wood burning saunas (or kiivas in Finnish - pronounced 'kee-wass') into which you throw logs to heat the stones. When you add water the scent is so much nicer than the electric version (to which you can add essential oils or tar in the buckets of water) which hasn't any scent at all. Smoke sauna, on the other hand, the outdoor version of which we have several millions of along the edges of the more than 5,000 lakes across Finland, is the ultimate experience. Build the fire, let it burn down to the embers and then place the stones onto the pile of embers and leave them there for a few hours. The stones absorb all the heat from the fire and now you toss some cold water onto them and feel this gentle sting to the skin all over. Far less harsh on impact than an electric sauna, the scent also sticks to the skin so we smell as fresh as forest flower in Spring.

In Ireland, I used to go to the old Crumlin swimming hall, which has/had three saunas offside the pool. The adults who spent their days there sat in the sauna to stay warm. When I arrived, I brought a bucket of cod water and a ladle, a towel to sit on (swimming wear required as it's a mixed sauna) and climbed up to the highest bench and from there flung the water on. The adults all start freaking out, 'stop that, we're tryin' to bleedin' speak here' was met with 'fuck off then, this is a sauna, not a bleedin' cafe', and then another big splash of water to get them the fuck out. Stupid bastards.

Last Irish sauna I had was in The Glenroyal Hotel in Maynooth. Deadly little unit in the swimming hall space. Nobody seemed to want to use it so I had it to myself for the entire weekend. Bring a few cold beers, hop into the pool for a few lengths, grab a bucket of cold water and blam! Balm. Sipping on a cold beer, add a little froth to the ladle and now it smells like tar, very nice, very traditional Finnish style.

Another was my Swedish ex's Dad's house along Pembroke Road. He ordered a Finnish unit and I helped put the whole thing together with him. We tiled the bathroom and added a wooden ceiling (also insulated) and then added the waterproof insulation on the four walls, left the floor tiled, had a central drain where the water was funneled by gravity, put in the kiivas and wired it up, then switched it on to heat up while we had supper. An hour later we were cooking, it was a perfect little unit. Seated up to four people with the shower right outside to rinse between sittings. Hard to believe I was in Dublin at all, mind you.

My apartment has access to two saunas, both on the rooftop level, though there aren't any windows. Most Finns put a glass window in, it's nice to see the lakes and the trees swaying in the breeze. Though it'll fog up and you have to throw water onto it to see out. Add some tar. Add some beer. Add your favourite essential oil. I like lemon, or any citrus scent. But tar is the most traditional as it seems to speak well to the wooden interior. The sent of fresh wood heating up releases a tar-like scent that's very natural and over time you'll also see the wood on the walls and ceiling bleed out oil. It drips down the wall and smells great.

There was a guy opened a Finnish/Nordic import store along Camden Street, up near the Bleeding Horse pub. He sold kiivas and also imported them. They were popular, he did good business during the Tiger years, but I don't know if he's still there. A home sauna has multipurpose uses. Some grow their weed on the upper benches, the plants removed during the session but put back in immediately after you're done to heat the clay and keep the plant warm and healthy. Finns often have their babies in them too. Sauna sex is exalting. But only in home saunas. They're self cleaning, so when you're done you simply add 'water for Tontu' which is absorbed by the high temperature wooden interior and dries it out completely in a couple of minutes.

Every sauna has a Tontu, or a sauna elf who lives in it and takes care of it. So you greet your Tontu with your first splash and you say good bye with your last, then Tontu takes care of everything after you're gone. Sweet. No fuss, no worries.

Best hangover cure in the entire universe: doesn't matter how fucked up you are going in, you'll be coming out feeling like Jayzus himself doing a Lazarus.

 

[Mowl]

Wintry conditions forecast for coming days nationwide as 28,000 without power after snowfall

All of Ireland will be under a low temperature and ice warning from 5pm this evening until 12pm Thursday.

www.thejournal.ie

Snow event? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? We had a bar Christmas, no snow at all here in southern Finland, but that changed rapidly into the new year with seven centimeters of snow on Friday, matched with the same again yesterday. It's now minus five/six, snow covers everything, but the pavements are clear and the roads too. Blazing sunshine bouncing off the pure driven snow lights everything up and the kids are having great fun out there.

As snow events go, we weren't afraid of the weather covering us and painting us pure white. No homes are without electricity either. Your dumb-assed headlines like: 'Wintry conditions forecast for coming days nationwide as 28,000 without power after snowfall' quite simply wouldn't be tolerated in Finland. They're winding you stupid fucks up, and you're too dumb and too stubborn to realize and accept what's going on here: they give weather human names so that you get swept away like you're the only country who has weather issues (not problems) and that it's perfectly normal to have tens of thousands of homes across the country without any heat or power because they refuse to spend any money on it. They'd rather hold on to it and perpetuate the lie whenever anyone gets too uppity and starts asking why Ireland collapses every time a bit a weather takes a turn.

You have no power in tens of thousands of Irish homes NOT because of the weather, but rather because of a miserly and stingy attitude to state funds.

You stupid fucks really haven't a fucking clue.

Question: does the inclement weather have it in for Ireland on a personal level?

Has the weather not always been an issue and is it not true that whenever you get two centimeters of white snow that all your schools, hospitals, state institutions, and half-built almost-finished tarmacadam roads have to shut down? Are you not one of the world's wealthiest nations? Why would a wealthy nation refuse to consider providing its people with proper homes and supplies? Or even reworking the older houses into more modern versions of same?

Snow Event Horizon.

Brilliant.

And y'all swallowed it whole.

 

[Mowl]

First week of the new year starts and it's minus eight for you lot, and it's plus two up here for me.

Everything continues to run on time, everything works. The chances of the Finnish met office trying out the scare tactics RTE slap you twats around with is zero. Not a fucking chance in hell. Most of Ireland is currently snow-bound and your kids and oldies are stuck inside watching the misery unfold from the warmth of their three jumpers, two windbreakers, a vest and three overcoats. The oldies can't even warm the kettle for their many cups of tay. Nobody cares about them, in fact - if anything, your state LOVES when weather like this hits. It'll kill off more than a few of them and if those that die are among those listed for compensation from the state for buggeries endured during their childhood, then all the better, that'll save a few quid of the state coffers.

Imagine living in a country where the state apparatus is so cynical and vicious that they'd rather you died of the cold than them have to treat you like a human being? Imagine sitting there whining about your petty gripes on an American based chat site run by a spoofing little fat man from Ballina currently squatting in a clapboard shack offside the ramp to the interstate and sponging off his wife, Marianne?

Have you no self respect at all?

Plus two in Helsinki, downtown is busy with post-season sales, and the cafes and restaurants are full of shoppers. It feels like Christmas but it really isn't. In fact, in Finland Christmas lasts for all of two days: on the 24th we celebrate Joulu, and on the 25th we lie around and laze in the sauna and the kitchen, eating and drinking and having fun. Then it's back to work on the 26th, everything resumes, the decorations are torn down and replaced by sales pitches, and by the new year we've entirely forgotten all about it.

Ireland? Christmas begins as soon as Hallowe'en passes. Down with the witches and cobwebs and up with the fake decorations and lights by the first week of November. It's now January 7th and you twats will still be dreaming that it's Christmas, and you'll still have the seasonal decor up until mid January. That's around eight to nine weeks of Christmas shit in Ireland. What are you? Kids? Excited little children?

Not only that, Ireland totally copies America for the Christmas bullshit: and you're all expected to empty your bank accounts buying crap for each other that'll mostly be unwrapped, unwanted, and exchanged or given away next Christmas. Which means that by the end of this week, you're all fucking broke.

In the Nordic region we don't do that. Excessive spending on gifts made of plastic and other similiar crap is unheard of. If we accept a dinner invitation over the season, we'll bring simple gifts like wine for the table, a nice pot of traditional home-made jam or marmalade. Smoked logs for the open fire that emanate a lovely scent. Home made winter socks. Things that'll be used and therefore appreciated all the more.

The Irish model? You show up with your arms packed full of wrapped up gifts nobody wants and nobody needs. Bottles of hard liquor. Wraps of natty speed and coke. Lumps of soap-bar hash with an added sprig of holly. You seem to think that throwing money at crap makes you look wealthy and sophisticated: it really doesn't though. It makes you look cheap and tatty. Tasteless. Unsophisticated. Lacking all class.

Still, the fact that Ireland's currently closed down on January 8th is hilarious.

And for what?

A half centimeter of snow?

Heh.

 

[Mowl]

Mmmm, yes: what a beautiful day. We're sitting pretty at a nice minus one degree Celsius and the snow is swirling about in flurries carried by a gentle breeze causing them to hang on the air, some falling sideways, some falling upwards on the breeze, and the whole city is running perfectly on time. It must suck having to hate the weather like you Irish fools do. You yell at clouds, pass comment on the nefarious nature of the weather upon your hopeless little island, get pissed off with the rain drenching your laundry out on the washing line. Calling the wind a bastard for making your downhill cycling feel like you're climbing Everest.

The kids are out playing, building snowmen and having snowball fights. The oldies are grand, I just collected my neighbour's shopping for her: she's in her mid-eighties and uses a stick, so there's no way I was letting her out in that. It's coming down hard and the grey piles of snow on the street corners are once again bright white. The kids climb them and build snowmen on top and then dig into them to make tunnels they light candles in, which looks lovely.

How's it going for you twats?

Still under Agent Orange alert?

For a bit of snow and ice?

Here, Milfy - what's with you and that old dear in the photo you nicked?
You like the wrinkly aul wans, is that it?
Looks around the seventy-five to eighty mark to me: far too old to design and finish the room Ulla did.
You're not exactly the brightest candle on the birthday cake, are you?

Irish people: you have to pity them really, eh.

 

[Mowl]

Irish people. Literacy. Illiteracy. The land of saints and scholars, where no one reads books, where no one has a home library of their collected books to pore over and maybe take one to bed to read before sleeping. Where few under the age of twenty can spell correctly or tell the difference between their, there, they're, and dare. Where few understand basic grammar and the simple rules it requires for it to become a fluid and personalized written take on things. Where most use only text-speak, the stunted variation of modern conversation.

Hiya Hun.
Zup?
Tops.
U n bed?
? me fanny
CUL8r
Cya
By
TLDR


The destruction of the apostrophe: flushed down the toilet when it should of been understood for what it is - for the sake of Con Houlihan's immortal soul.

The childlike scrawl of complete fucking mongs like the twats over on Arsefield's.

https://www.thejournal.ie/ireland-literacy-oecd-reading-661419

The way they mangle the English language every passing day, dumbing each other down by trying to make their posts look or feel slightly different to anyone else's by using ~ and ! ! ! in every fucking piss-poor post they paste. Idiot has-beings who haven't a fucking clue what they're talking about in the first place. No wonder we're miles ahead of you on this one just as we are with everything else we do. Helsinki is littered with libraries. Everyone has a library card. Some, like me, have two or three library cards: not to book out twice or three times as many books (the highest number of books anyone can take is any number they like or as many as they can carry) but rather to access both the public libraries and the student's and higher academic libraries, which offer rich pickings to those interested in learning new things from other people's theses and limited edition published works. The new library which opened downtown the summer before last is called Oodi the new state capital city kirjasto, and its a architectural wonder:

In there you can schedule anything you like: a book, five books, twenty books, a recording studio fully furnished with instruments, engineers, high end mix and recording gear (both analog and digital) a sewing machine, a hammer, old-school raquettes for the ice, original paintings, woven carpets and rugs, musical instruments, video editing suites, games consoles, CDs, LPs, cassettes, MP3s, table lamps, copied paintings, knitting and book clubs, language clubs, home-brew fanatics clubs, people who want to learn to drive a car using high end computers and graphics to pass basic tests, quitting clubs (drinks, smokes, marriages) people who want to learn the basics of how to fly a jumbo jet - in 3D, pottery classes, sculpture, sketching, dossing around in bean bags watching it all happen around you, video clubs, movie clubs, a coffee bar, writer's groups, romantic dates over coffee and the smell of new books, how to this, that, and the other books and guides, theological debates, sports fans, your granny and her romance novels, your Da and his weed patch. Or anything else you can dream up. If they haven't got it, introduce it, they'll assist and help to furnish it.

Libraries in Ireland are these piously silent places where only the aged and the very cold ensconce to avoid the cold and damp.

Up here, they're exciting places, they're for everyone. The local (and rather quaintly old-fashioned library at Kallio (the bohemian district)) is one of my favourites. Upstairs it has a kiddies play area: bouncy castles, tiny furniture, little laptops in bright colours, little kitchens, climbing frames, board games, tiny beds for naps, the works. They can make all the noise they like, and if you don't like it, try another library five minutes away. I have three to choose from nearby: the regular public library at Arabia factory along with the private student's library for the arts block located directly above that, and just a stop or two down the road, the largest academic library outside of Helsinki University. I use them on a weekly basis at least. I took out a Fender Jazz Bass during November and she was a beauty. I had an amp delivered (too heavy for me to carry, so the book van (which relocates books back to their library of origin)) delivered it instead. No fee, just a ring on your bell and 'Sir, your amplifier is here at the main door' and off they go into the falling snow. We excel in ways you fucks can't even begin to fathom. Chances are, whatever your bright idea is, we've already covered it. We out-read you, out-study you, we have the world's best schools and colleges, universities and day-care centres. They all share a common axis on learning at your own pace. We don't give kids exams, not until they're sixteen years old. Anything earlier than that is considered fucking criminal: how dare anybody grade a child as backward at age seven in the manner Irish schools do as a matter of course? Group learning, group activities, mixed genders, various ages, specialists in one thing, novices in another - nobody gets to judge, grade, or segregate any child under the auspices of 'exam results/grades' and instead the children are given all the time they like to decide who and what they are and what they want to do.

In Ireland?

Your first Irish school exams are at age eight to nine. After that, you're segregated to one level or another of class. The smart kids and the losers. What eight or nine year old knows what they want to be when they 'grow up'? Apart from a spaceman, a fire engine, or a choo-choo? That's their own affair, it's not for any teacher or school board to decide on these things. The child's needs come first, immediately after that - the parents and family. The teacher is the go-between between the family and the state. The kids' rights are protected, guarded, revered. We have the world's best and highest standards in schooling: you dumb fucks can't construct a single fucking sentence without mangling the English language into obliteration: and this on a written message discussion site?

You thick cunts have a long way to go to reach my standards, you sad bastards.

Exams in the Irish tradition serve one purpose and one purpose only: to decide which kids will get a proper education, and which won't. It often has less to do with entry exams than it does with personal body odour or dress. Couth or uncouth mannerisms. Accent. Exact address.The smelly kids are judged as thickos. The nicely turned out kids, who can't add up to three, will be fawned over. Fuck the other guy, it's his own fault. The smelly cunt. Then you twats wonder why Ireland's split in two on so many everyday issues?

Northside/southside.
Northern Ireland/ Republic Of Ireland.
Jackeens/culchies.
Euro/sterling.
Dole/job.
Fish & chips/McDonald's.
Bus/bike/car/white van.
Fianna Fail/Fine Gael.
St Patrick's Athletic/ Man Utd.
Leftwing/right wing.

It never fucking ends - and none of you can even see it. Why? Because you ARE it. Because it's precisely what made you who and what you are, you stupid fucking cunt. You got played, you got rolled over, they stuck a fork in your ass: and then you let them spit-roast you. You thought your petty allegiances were worth something. Now you know better. You're a number, a statistic, a bill for the state to settle. There is no left or right, there is no nationalism worth fighting for because first you need to have a country you're proud of. You have nothing to be proud of though, eh. Whether you believe in the left or the right, it's still all just blowing bubbles and picking snots out of your face and ears. You think your opinions matter in the wider world. Well guess what? They don't even matter amongst this niche grouping of bloggers. Thick cunts who spend their days with each trying to out-convolute the other and for what?

LIKES?

Acceptance?

You stupid fucks.

You ought to be sent out to dig big deep holes and fill other holes back in until you learn to take some fucking responsibility for yourselves. You are where you are because that's what you settled for. When you started out, you likely thought that this can't be all bad. Now you hate it. You'd rather be anywhere else but you can't even make it off these boards. As soon as you power down your dinky little laptop, you're wondering if anybody has said something to you, about you, that concerns you, and so you flick the telly back off and sit there on the laptop poring over some drivel from some half-wit gobsheen out in the sticks with potatoes growing in the wax of his ears. Or Val Martin's ego, picking at his nose, studying his boogers before wiping them into the sleeves of his jumper. His other arm somewhere down his ear canal searching for pink matter but coming up empty-handed bar some brown wax. And smelly fingered. You just know he picks at his arse after a visit to The Shitting Ditch at dawn. Then smells his fingers to decide if he's had enough spuds and needs some fish.

You twats represent the single greatest avalanche in ignorance I've ever witnessed. It amazes me that grown and mature adults do the things you fools do.

You even have varying degrees of winning/losing: who gets to slap Jambo around today.

Why nobody on the board doesn't just come out and ask: Clarke/Connolly: 'were you dropped on your head as a baby or are you really this fucking thick?'

But at least he can spell. He may not understand what a paragraph is (he writes in one-liners as a matter of course) or even how to use an exclamation mark. But he rarely misspells and always tries to appear neat and tidy, even if a bit hopelessly fucking thick in the true culchie sense.

The rest of you could learn a thing or two from him. It. Whatever it is.

Thank fuck I got out of there: if I hadn't, then chances are I'd be banged up for murder.

Except none of you are worth the effort: and it's likely better to keep you all alive and in the one place.

You can do less damage that way.

 

[Mowl]

Nice photo, I can tell by the background that it was taken on the fortress island of Suomenlinna, a World Heritage Site and great little islet for partying. Which is exactly what the two young ladies are enjoying on what is clearly May Day, the first of May, when the official end to winter arrives and we all pile out into the streets and parks to welcome the summer with dancing and singing, drinking and eating (outdoors) and flashing eyes at nice wans looking to hang out for some fun.

It's a huge celebration: it begins on the eve of May first, and everyone's out. Everyone. Suomenlinna is a toughie because the bus ferry can only make so many crossings a day, so additional boats are laid on for the masses looking to get out onto the island the night before to pitch their tent, or better yet: go down into the caves that line the entire edge of the island. Massive cannons still in situ since the second world war still point out to sea, even if they are totally rusted and seized up:

Beneath the mounds of rock they stand on are dozens and dozens of tunnels set deep into the island and there are many turrets to be found in the grassy areas above the rocks where pot-shot eagle-eyed Finnish soldiers picked off Russians by the dozen out on the decks of their war ships. It's impossible to find them, the grass grows over the top-sides and can be brushed aside to take aim, then let the grass fall back into place, obscuring you 100% from any water-borne foe.

But back to partying rather than war: May Day is a one of a kind event I've never seen any equivalent of (bar of course Ireland's Paddy's Day bullshit) where everyone is out. Even the old folks are wheeled out into the fresh air for their mini garden parties. The kids are face-painted and in costume, everyone has something blue and white in their dress for the day. Ice hockey shirts are sweet: they're so big (from having to fit all those shoulder pads and elbow pads) you can wear a coat under one and still look cool. Mine's an extra-extra large.

I've yet to get my name (Mowl) emblazoned on the back, but I'll get around to it.

Meanwhile - this drunk fool:

Don't stress your tiny mind about it, Myles. Finland's dole (which is nigh on impossible for even a Finn to negotiate) is nothing like Ireland's dole, which is what attracts the starving and war-torn masses to your little playground. They don't mind a bit of rain, but extreme cold? For months at a time? Fuck that. They'll happily settle for Irish dole because for them, Irish dole equals free house, free medical care, free prams, free laptops, vouchers for food items, vouchers for your mobile phone credit. New clothes, often with designer labels on. The latest sneakers from Puma/Nike/Adidas. Top end mobile phones with little gadgets you can park on your ear (why do black dudes always seem to be wearing some sort of new-fangled ear attachment thingy that has nothing to do with music?) free tents and mobile homes, access to numerous barracks' and buildings.

In Finland?

They get taken in for deep processing as soon as they arrive: who are you? Papers? Where exactly are you from? Why are you here? Are you married? Kids? Wife? What's your profession? Okay so far. Shared accommodation/hostel will be granted if all those criteria are in place. Then the schooling schedule is set up and will begin almost immediately, and then the evening part-time job to accompany it. When you have qualified and passed a literacy test, your family will be the next part of the process. If all criteria aren't satisfied, then they'll be refused until they are. You will have to work slopping out: cleaning trams and metros, buses and trains, public parks for people and for dogs. You will show up on time for school or be removed for repetitive lateness. You will be tested every evening on the day's workload. You will have homework to complete every weekend which will he handed in on Monday morning. You will be removed from the class of you do not comply. You will remain in a hostel until you can afford to support yourself and even some of your family. You will not be an equal citizen in the eyes of the law but rather a guest of the state, on probation/parole and watched like a hawk. If money passes through your account you will be summoned for a meeting. If it turns out it was a gift the same amount will be taken from your wage. If it was a nixer, you're fucked. Out of school, out of hostel (the state will not pay your rent) and then you're at the mercy of the law. If you're now broke and homeless, we can't help you: it's time to leave. Here's a ticket. End. Of. Story.

Which is why they all end up on your piss-poor and hopeless little rock sucking you dry and killing your culture along with stabbing your kids.

You're fucking welcome to them too.

 

[Mowl]

The joys of being the world's happiest country. We bombed Sweden last week with this Suomen/Ruotsalainen mixed-lyric song in the national Medodifestivalen as a precursor to the Eurovision Song Contest. The Swedes bought it straight out of the box, which is hilarious given Swedish prudishness in comparison to Finnish sisu. The song is a celebration of sauna culture and Finnish traditions. Even the Swedes, who occupied Finland for over eight hundred years before the Russians came along, couldn't resist the charms of Finnish culture. They still can't.

Back in the day I knew Sweden and her culture very well having both traveled across her several times for work as well as a touristy visit on an Interrail ticket many years ago. It was a beautiful country back then, the Swedes were curious, they'd ask why on earth I came to visit such a faraway place. Well, for exactly that reason. That and many school projects I did over the years with De La Salle which most often were Nordic countries for me. I used to consider Copenhagen to be the last gate before Scandinavia but a lot has changed since then.

The Finns, usually derided by our surrounding neighbours, considered Finland to be more scruffy than rustic, more isolated than spearheading, and generally very hard to understand whether by language or by custom. Nowadays all of our neighbours are looking to emulate our model of politics in which the whole and sole purpose is to best serve the citizenry first and the rest of the world later. That includes me: after all, I've lived in Finland longer than I ever did in Ireland. And it's been great, really wonderful, to see Finland mature and step out onto the world stage with confidence, resilience, courage, and no fucking fear whatsoever.

You're gonna love this one:



Bara, bada, bastu: 'just take a sauna' or (in fact it's a bit more direct than that in Finnish which basically says get the fuck into the sauna and shut the fuck up). Which is pretty much how we do it. Earworms, they're a terrible affliction, which you'll begin to realize after listening to the song even once. You won't be able to get it out of your lugs for days after.

 

[Mowl]

And it just gets better every passing year. Here we are again, it's 2025 and Finland has just been awarded the OECDs 'World's Happiest Country' for an eighth consecutive year. Honestly, we sent a few representatives to meet with the OECD selection committee and asked them to please not find Finland the winner again this year: it's not fair on other countries like Ireland and it's bringing too much attention to us and we sure as shit don't want to end up like you lot with every bum on the planet eyeballing you for all the grants, houses, free medical care, dole money, and everything else they take you for.

We're trying to be discreet here, but you lot keep shining a spotlight on us while scratching your arses and trying to figure out how we do it.

Lookit, so long as you twats keep pestering Washington, Frankfurt, Brussels, and many other large nations to be your best pals, the better it is for us. Don't look to Finland for inspiration about how to build and maintain a happy and successful nation. Look to your betters in the cities and countries you have absolutely fuck all in common with. Keep kidding yourselves you're pals with America. Keep on pretending that you're a global player. Keep paying your half-witted ministers stupid money for fuck all. Keep telling yourself that next year? This time next year? You'll be rich, right?

For those years where I was still welcome at my ambassador's residency, the only representatives sent to Finland I met were small fry dip-shits. Ministers for enterprises who couldn't care much less for the Finnish model. Arseholes there to glad-hand wealthy Finnish business people invited to attend because they hire Irish staff in their businesses and Paddy wants to see if he can nurgle a few million out of them for 'the cause'.

We actual ex-pats living here? Looked at like we're all traitors, like we did something terrible by deciding to get up and leave the bullshit behind and start again up here. That takes courage, sacrifice, effort. Staying where you are in a hopeless situation like Ireland's in is strictly for losers and the utterly hopeless. Like you lot of arse-scratching mongs: you're exactly where you're supposed to be because nobody else has any fucking use for you at all.

Tonight I'll celebrate my good fortune with cold beers in the sauna with herself, then with some nice Karelian meat pie for supper with a few shots of Finlandia vodka to wash it all down. It's only right and proper that I should salute my beautiful host country for her kindness and welcoming spirit who trusted me to do my best for her and then granted me my Finnish passport for my contributions to the state and her people. I worked hard for this, and it's taken a lot of sacrifice to make sure that it all worked out in my favour.

Finland ranked world’s happiest country for eighth year

Finland has been named the world’s happiest country for the eighth consecutive year, according to the latest World Happiness Report. The ranking, based on a global survey measuring life satisfaction, shows Finland widening its lead over Denmark, which placed second. The report, supported by the...

www.helsinkitimes.fi

Because now my worries are mostly over, the back-breaking work was already done over the many years since 1999 when I decided to dump my Irish identity and leave the hopeless little rock behind. Permanently. And you know what? That's precisely what I did. And this is where I am today: on top of the world, quite literally. The views are awesome. I can see for miles and miles. There's no fog, no mist, only bright sunshine and the gentle sound of contended people whistling down the days and greeting each other with knowing smiles and kind words. We know how good we have and we've no intentions of letting it slide: generations of brave Finnish souls built this broad land for us and it's us who take responsibility for her today. The Finland we pass along to our children will continue to excel. And the reasons why are right under your fat face, you dumb fucks - but you refuse to acknowledge it, you refuse to change your ways even slightly. The only change coming for Ireland is on an uphill slope which you have neither the will power to confront, the energy to climb, or the intelligence to see it for what it is. That it's not about you - it's about what you do for the next generation, like they did up here for me. I've repaid my debt to Finland's kindness, compassion, encouragement, and happiness. Just look at me now?

Couldn't be much happier, now could I?