This explains a lot...

Penis theft panic hits city..
Wed Apr 23 17:06:48 UTC 2008

Reuters
By Joe Bavier
KINSHASA (Reuters) - Police in Congo have arrested 13 suspected sorcerers accused of using black magic to steal or shrink men's penises after a wave of panic and attempted lynchings triggered by the alleged witchcraft.
Reports of so-called penis snatching are not uncommon in West Africa, where belief in traditional religions and witchcraft remains widespread, and where ritual killings to obtain blood or body parts still occur.
Rumors of penis theft began circulating last week in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo's sprawling capital of some 8 million inhabitants. They quickly dominated radio call-in shows, with listeners advised to beware of fellow passengers in communal taxis wearing gold rings.
Purported victims, 14 of whom were also detained by police, claimed that sorcerers simply touched them to make their genitals shrink or disappear, in what some residents said was an attempt to extort cash with the promise of a cure.
"You just have to be accused of that, and people come after you. We've had a number of attempted lynchings. ... You see them covered in marks after being beaten," Kinshasa's police chief, Jean-Dieudonne Oleko, told Reuters on Tuesday.
Police arrested the accused sorcerers and their victims in an effort to avoid the sort of bloodshed seen in Ghana a decade ago, when 12 suspected penis snatchers were beaten to death by angry mobs. The 27 men have since been released.
"I'm tempted to say it's one huge joke," Oleko said.
"But when you try to tell the victims that their penises are still there, they tell you that it's become tiny or that they've become impotent. To that I tell them, 'How do you know if you haven't gone home and tried it'," he said.
Some Kinshasa residents accuse a separatist sect from nearby Bas-Congo province of being behind the witchcraft in revenge for a recent government crackdown on its members.
"It's real. Just yesterday here, there was a man who was a victim. We saw. What was left was tiny," said 29-year-old Alain Kalala, who sells phone credits near a Kinshasa police station.
(Editing by Nick Tattersall and Mary Gabriel)

First Impressions

I was feeling a bit timid as I walked around Buenos Aires for the first time. A lack of sleep, some jet lag, a mounting hang over, a new city and a foreign language surrounding me will do that I suppose. I wasn´t out for anything too serious, just getting a taste of the city and feeling my way around is all. The rain was just starting to come down when I couldn´t help but turn to address some eager fellow who is obviously trying to get my attention. He is blurting out something along the lines of, "byrd", or "beard", or "bierd" and pointing to the back of my legs. I am completely confused at this point and struggling to figure out what he is trying to communicate. "Beard, you say? Yes, I know its nice, thank you for noticing."

He then points to my shoulder blurting out, "beird, byrd, bird". That is when I notice the milky grey substance resting atop my flece. The revelation comes all at once. "¡Bird!" he says. And it was a bird indeed. Some overweight little bastard had unleashed quite a mess all over my back side. I mean this winged turd slinger splatter painted my ass from head to toe. My man grabbed some tissues from his lady friend and they helped to clean me up a bit, but I was never the less scrapping dookie off my backside for the rest of the afternoon. Thank God I was wearing a hat, or I may have started off my time in the country with some fresh grey highlights.

First Impressions of Argentina: Jet lagged, hung over and covered in dookie! The great irony in it all is that I found the entire course of events to be hilarious. Thus getting deficated on by that rodent with wings actually did wonders for both the jet lag and my hang over leaving me feeling rather jubilant!

Monday, Monday, Monday: Part One

Winter Surf


So it was a Monday. I jerked up as the hail slammed into the windshield of my man Colin´s ride, but easily fell back into a slumber waiting for Colin and his Real estate agent to finish their meeting. I wasn´t crazy about the prospect of getting into the ocean with the air temp at the level it was and I figured the thundering hail would definitely cancel the outing. I, of course, was wrong, and an hour later I found myself timidly peeling off my clothing to be replaced with a damp rubber lining.

An almost queasy feeling in my stomach caused by an overall nervous tension was obviously telling me that my body did not think this was a good idea. To be honest my mind was right there as well, but I have a history of doing seemingly ridiculous things for nothing more than the story. And what the hell, now I can tell people I have been surfing in Ireland.

Low and behold, the shivering that was on the verge of uncontrollable ceased to be as soon as I was suited up. Surely the the cool, winter ocean will have something to say about that. But as I followed Colin past the first set of breaks and eventually became completely submerged the only feeling I could identify was exhilaration. The water almost felt warm!

Now the waves weren´t the best, and my 2 year hiatus from surfing had me looking more like a wounded seal missing his flippers floundering helplessly in the surf than a human trying to catch a wave. But in between sets, as I sat on my board and peered at the majestic Irish cliffs to my left and the vast Atlantic ocean to my right, I couldn´t help but think, "Its going to be a good day..."

Irish Dias 7-10

Wake up after a glorious and much needed sleep, help Colin put up a fence at his new casa, hit the road, stop off in Westport for a stroll and a coffee, spot the first of many McCarthy Pubs, oogle over a raunchee mullet/rat tail, cruise on down to Galway, get reacquainted with Ciara, meet up with Pearce for some dinner, and proceed to take a Guinness tour around the city...


mmm, the Irish coast...


Get up and hit the road to take a nice look around the Irish speaking Cannamara, visit Hagart Pearce´s cottage, discover a suppressed love for the Toyota Yaris, take pics at random deserted beaches, get a bite in Roundstone, continue our drive through the Ignah Valley, get heckled at a comedy act for being the lone Yank...


Rise outta bed and drive on down the westcoast, chill at the Cliffs of Moher, grab lunch in Lahinch, meet up with Emir for a pint in Cork, eat a nice Ozzy meal, grab a few pints at various pubs down the road...


Wake up and take a stroll around Cork, head up to Blarney with an Ozzy police officer, kiss the Blarney stone, disinfect my lips, grab a pint and head for Kilarney, pass Pat Healys Tractors Shop, grab a Kilkinney then start the long haul back to Dublin, hit the town for one last Irish evening, dance, dance, dance, oh how we danced, closed the eyes for about 30 minutes and bid farewell to the motherland.

Irish Event Account: Days 1-5

Arrive in Dublin, instantly get slapped with a gratuitous dose of that Irish hospitality from Matt, take off into the countryside visiting the 6th century monastic centre of Glendalough, stop off for a pint at "Ireland's highest pub"(referring to what I believe is altitude), grab a nap, wake up to the glorious tone of Colin's voice, rip up the town for the evening.


Wake up around 2, hit up St. Patrick's Cathedral and learn about the women of Jonathan Swift, account Colin's choir boy days, indulge in some history and a pint on the Guinness tour, take a stroll around Trinity and downtown in the day light, grab a pint at Down Under Bar, a pint at another Irish pub, enjoy dinner with Colin's Dad and lady friend, rip the town apart for the evening.


Wake up around 10, prepare to exit Dublin, change plans over a hearty meal, borrow some wet suits from Colin's Dad's surf shop, visit The Tomb of Newgrange, pick up rental car, grab a bite with Matt, savor some zzzs, meet up with Colin and Matt's hometown boys, hit up a classic Irish pub and The Gaiety Theatre, completely shred the town to pieces for the evening.


Wake up around 2, prepare to leave town, get lost in Dublin, cruise up the road to Sligo, grab a bite at Donaghy's, indulge in a dance at Ireland's largest club, become overjoyed with emotion at the sound of Soulja Boy in Sligo, slice up the dance floor for the evening.


Wake up around noon, grab a bite and a chat with some locals, turn the wrong way down the largest street in Sligo, give Colin a heart attack, drive the coast and visit Colin's future abode, give the liver a much needed rest and straight chill for the evening.