Dogmas Versus Dogs

I had awakened and was rudely tumbled from my bed by what appeared to be a horde of Viking toughs. It greatly resembled some credit card commercial advertisement of the s& m sort wherein the hapless holder (of credit card) is buffetted by various unscrupulous forces only to be assuaged by this particular financial institution which is caring, thoughtful, has no sub prime assets, and although not Muslim, does not believe in Interest nor Loan Sharking. The last Viking to depart my shambles said, "Mr. Adeejeeree sends his compliments." I gathered my wits and hastily donned my clothes, beating a straight path to the nation's capitol ( it is a small country and the capitol is at the 4 corners at the traffic signal) and to the Ministry in charge of such outrages. Mr. Adeejeeree is the Minister of the Interior. I have a feeling we traded for him with Sudan (after his posting in the Darfur region) for a draft choice to be named in the future. He saw me, smiled broadly, and said something sporty about the Uqbar Soccer League. I cut him off with wildly gesticulating hands, flailing arms, and an incensed brow. Long story short, I had spoken to him a week previously about encouraging Tourism and by a singular Malapropism of the Memory, Mr. Adijeeree remembered the conversation as being about Barbarism. It was partially my fault, for I had also spoken about George Bernard Shaw and his pacifism in WW I and WW II. Since Adijeeree had read Lit. in the day, we had talked about some Shaw plays. Thus did I contaminate Adijeeree's memory. I asked, "What did we speak of last week?" "One of Shaw's plays... Major Barbara, I think." And protean memory became Barbarians At The Gates, barbarian invasions, the Barbary Coast, barbarous table manners...all forms of barbarism...which is a state of being a barbarian and not a state of being a tourist. "Major......Bar...bar...a." I repeated with scorn and disgust- no, not for the play, rather the object of scorn was the Minister himself, or more correctly, the misfired actions of his Ministry. "So...you are encouraging...not tourism...?" "No. Barbarism I'm afraid, old chap." Now I do not like being called "old chap". It reminds me of (1) discarded lip balm containers on the pristine slopes of Vail, and (2) an old leathery cowboy costume. I sensed that the English suffix for denoting dogmas: the "-ism" , had once again wrought havoc upon the hapless non-native speakers of the English tongue. I began to understand why, when one arrives at this quaint nation paradise, the customs officials at the airport or the quay insist on everyone exchanging insurance information, just as it if were a no-fault automobile collision rather than an entry into an idyllic Eden. Note: the Ministry has set up a committee to look into changing focus to "tourism" rather than "barbarism".