Elvis celebrates St. Patrick's day in Jamaica

Elvis and his twin joined the Conga line on the Party Mound at Sabina Park on St. Patrick's Day - as they cheered on Ireland in their cricket match against Pakistan.

Well - as incredible as it may seem - its true. There's the picture to prove it.

But even the greatest Elvis-sceptic would have greater ease in swallowing that one, than beleiving that the minnow Ireland would whoop killer whale Pakistan. Impossible.

But I witnessed it - and survived hundreds of beer swilling Irish men, women, six-foot tall leprechauns, Elvis and his dopple-ganger - to tell the tale.

Unfortunately, that is more than can be said for the Pakistani coach who died hours later- presumably a stress-realted heart attack.

Anyway - after 15 consecutive months of being on the rock, it is official, I have islanditis. Only known cure is getting away. I'm going to Graceland, (Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee I'm going to Graceland) where I expect to see either Elvis or his twin ( I still can't tell them apart).

But perhaps he will be here cheering Ireland onto victory over the WI at their next match on Friday.

Weirder things have happened.

V/C in the capital

Went to my first World Cup cricket game yesterday - West Indies vs. Pakistan at Sabina Park. There were about 10 Pakistanis there - give or take - and 19,946 West Indians, mainly Jamaican.

The most exciting part of the day, however, was not the match - but my first attempt of getting to the match.

At about 8:15 a.m. we are just past the first lights on Waterloo in the regular morning traffic jam when my fellow cricket fan sees a Gleaner guy. I don't have $30 and nor does he. So he takes $100 from his wallet and gives the vendor/cretin - who gives him $50 change. 'Do you want an Observer?' asks the v/c - no says David - mi just want mi change. So the guy says, is the magazine in there? There isn't and so on that pretext the v/c gives him another and drops one on the floor of the car. David is bending down to get the paper while the other guy has his arms in the car supposedly picking up the paper or something. I know he's up to something, so I grab my phone and my camera. The traffic is moving - David still hasn't got his extra $20 change and the guy goes off and I move with the traffic.

I say to David- that guy was up to something funny - at which point David realises he is no longer in possesion of his wallet.

I pull over to the left, stop the car - get out to find the guy (what I'm going to do if I find him I don't know) but he has disappeared. I call 119. Police say come in and make a report. I go back to car - the wallet is definately gone.

So the wallet is gone. With a hunk of money in it. I was not a happy camper. And David wasn't either. Anyway - we drove around like lunatics - because I was heading for the police at Half Way Tree, but David didn't want to bother make a report because what would be the point.

Long story short - went to Liganea police - they said go to Half Way Tree. Make a report there - but they really don't seem interested at all. Can't blame them really - nobody murdered so why bother? And with the cricket here, I guess they are stretched enough.

After all that negativity, David doesn't want to go anymore. I call a friend and we go together, getting to the cricket a little late. My mood has improved by this point, but if it hadn't the general atmosphere of genuine bonhommy (is that how you spell it) would have. Getting there late turned out not to be so bad. Our seats were in the very first row - so were in the sun until just after we got there - which was good timing really.

The only real prob was food. We were starving - but so were 20,000 other people. At 1:00, food lines were long and stationary (an unpleasant reminder of the Waterloo incident) and then the food ran out. So we gave up. It wasn't until around 2:30 that we discovered an air conditioned bar that we could have gone to all along - no lines and great hotdogs.

Hopefully the memory of the enjoyment of the cricket will soon supersede that of the v/c and his monetary gain - in the not too distant future. The Windies won after all.

Potty pots

I have a computer that slides along at the pace of an arthritic snail. After defragging and checking for spyware (whatever that is) I have just finished checking for viruses. Hopefully it will pick up speed now. But I doubt it.

I watched the 9/11 documentary last night - thanks to the fact that there was a power cut somewhere between my cable station and my house. Well, happily I had light - but no TV. Some of the apartments around me were in pitch black. Anyway, I'm not a big fan of Michael Moore, but I had nothing else to watch - so watch it I did. Turned out to be not that he's not that rabid after all. And the plus side for Bush is that he doesn't come out looking as too stupid, just evil.

And then the cable came back and I watched a documentary about Abu Graib and the torture that American troops put potentially innocent Iraquis through. And how such torture appears to have been approved by Rumsfeld.

And who know's what is going on in Guantanamo Bay.

So it was really refreshing to read today that the US government is critisizing the Jamaican government for its treatment of prisoners! Do as I say, not as I do.

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Why can't the pot call the pot black for a change?

How seriously does the American government think such a remark will be treated? Where is their moral authority?