-an OD of Love-

 I remember a time when life was much less hurried, when summers were more beautiful, and at 5:30 PM, all the children would go out to play in the street, not returning until nearly 10 PM except for a quick dinner at 8 PM. A time when we would all pile into a van’s cargo area and head to the beach for a half-day, with greasy fries and frozen popsicles. A time when we didn’t think twice about running barefoot on the pavement to buy bread from the van vendor: “ Waħda kbira tar-ratal, "one large loaf, around 800g, waħda tat- tlett soldi "a small maltese roll", and a wahda bebbuxu "one snail shell shaped bun", please.” A time when we couldn’t be disturbed at 4 PM because the cartoons were on, and heaven forbid anyone planned an outing during an important episode. A time when the door mat at the backyard was never given a break, as everyone was in and out, drinking from the fridge. A time when no one called between 1 PM and 4 PM because it was siesta time, nor after

Remember when children’s clothes were handed down from one child to another until they were too worn out to wear? Back in the day, we would wear aprons to protect our clothes, and we reserved our Sunday best outfits for special occasions because we didn’t have an abundance of clothes. Do you recall buying children’s shoes a size larger to make them last longer? When our socks wore thin, we would mend them and keep using them. When a bed sheet became too worn, we would cut it up to make cleaning rags. Old t-shirts were repurposed as cleaning cloths, and every piece of string or thread was saved for future use. Food waste was never an option. Leftovers were used the next day, and buttons from worn-out dresses were saved to be used again. Instead of sophisticated hair products, we used soap, almond oil, beer, or vinegar. Old jeans were transformed into shorts, and if a sweater became too small, we added a piece of fabric to extend its life. At the end of the school year, we would save bla

Yes, there’s been an electric jolt, but for Ford, it’s more like a horror film than a revolution. The legendary American carmaker bravely split its business: one side for the trusty combustion engines, and the other for electric dreams. Economically speaking, this split has been a heart attack waiting to happen. In Q2 2024, Ford's operating profit plummeted from $3.8 billion to $2.8 billion. Net profits slipped from $1.9 billion to $1.8 billion, despite a 6% revenue increase to $47.8 billion thanks to the new F-150 and Transit vans. The real horror story? Ford's Model E division, loses a staggering $40,000 per electric vehicle sold. Marchionne Always Knew Let’s take a moment to recall the words of the undisputed king of automotive candor, the sweater-wearing, August-vacation-hating Sergio Marchionne. Back in May 2014, during a Washington address, he said, "I hope you don’t buy the Fiat 500 electric. Every time I sell one, I lose $14,000. I'm honest enough to admit it.&

Graduation is a significant milestone, marking years of hard work, dedication, and perseverance. It's a time for celebration, recognition, and pride. For a young professional who recently graduated with a Bachelor of Arts (Hons) in Business Enterprise, this should have been a period filled with joy and congratulations. However, amidst the positive remarks, a troubling comment from a direct superior cast a shadow. The manager's remark, "As for me, you must have greased someone's palm," delivered in Maltese, suggests the graduate's success was not earned through merit but through unethical means. This goes beyond bad humour; it exemplifies workplace bullying aimed at demeaning a young woman who has diligently pursued her academic goals. Understanding Workplace Bullying Workplace bullying involves repeated mistreatment that harms the health of one or more individuals by one or more perpetrators. It includes verbal abuse, offensive conduct that is threatening, hum

Walking to school was a cherished ritual, regardless of the weather. Every morning began with Catholic Mass at 7:30 AM, a special celebration for children where we took turns participating. Some played the guitar while others coordinated the singing and readings. The twenty-minute service led perfectly into the school day, with a few minutes left for a final leisurely walk to school. When the clock struck 8 AM, the bells from distant churches would ring, reminding us if we were running late. All students would line up in the central court to first sing the Angelus, followed by the National Anthem. Who could forget the squeaky noise of the old Farfisa organ? I still remember the tall and thin headmistress, Miss Vella, but secretly we used to call her "Olivia Oil" because of her resemblance to Popeye's wife. She did her best to lead the singing, but her thin and off-key voice made the dogs howl, prompting us to think, "Don’t give up your day job!" Her efforts were

Last Saturday evening in Butler, Pennsylvania, a dramatic turn of events transformed an already intense presidential race. With over three months to go until polling day, fate made a decisive intervention. A video of Trump getting shot shows him quickly falling and being shielded by his security detail. Despite the chaos, Trump instinctively knew he needed to seize the moment. In an incredible display of strength for a 78-year-old, he broke free and raised his fist, and a photo capturing his defiance went viral, symbolizing his resilience. As the crowd chanted "USA! USA!", Trump appeared unfazed, almost as if he had anticipated this moment for years. His response was a stark contrast to the initial reactions of media panels, which quickly shifted focus to broader themes of political violence. Meanwhile, some of Trump's supporters irresponsibly blamed Joe Biden for the shooting, calling for absurd actions like prosecuting the president for inciting violence. However, the r

There wasn't even a minute of boredom during those carefree summers of my childhood. The days were endless, brimming with adventure and laughter. We only went home to eat and when the adults called us loudly from the windows, their voices echoed through the streets like a summoning bell. Running up the stairs with hearts pounding, we were always in a rush, perpetually late. Scraped knees were a common occurrence, but we kept them hidden because getting hurt was strictly forbidden. The delicious smell of a hot meal waiting at the table would greet us, and we ate without complaints, even when the dish wasn't our favorite. The lure of the streets and the old courtyard was too strong to resist, and soon we were back outside, playing and running breathlessly. Our playmates were the friends we saw every day and the kids from the neighboring buildings. Names and introductions were unnecessary. It didn't matter if we knew each other or not; being together was enough. We invented ga

Buying a new car? Prepare yourself for disappointment because it’s almost certain to come with a depressing gadget called Intelligent Speed Assistance (ISA). Trust me, it’s like having Big Brother in your car, and you’re not going to be happy about it. Here’s the grim reality before you head out on the road. Photo by Erik Mclean Q: What is intelligent speed assist? ISA is this bleak bit of technology that uses cameras and GPS data to check the speed limit on the road and then, with soul-crushing inevitability, ‘encourages’ you to observe it. It does this with a series of irritating warnings and interventions. Car makers, in their infinite wisdom, have devised various methods to bother you. This could be a sound warning – typically a bong, beep, or chime – or a vibration through the steering wheel, seat, or accelerator pedal. This is called ‘Informative’ or ‘Advisory’ ISA.  But the real kicker is the versions of ISA that actually intervene, stopping you from exceeding the posted speed l

 In the heart of a bustling indie bookstore where stories unfolded with every turn of the page, there was a little old lady who shone like a beacon of quirky kindness. Bookseller Rosie @Shelf Life Books and Zines I work in this cozy sanctuary of literature, where most days are spent among shelves of books and customers who share a passion for the written word. Our bookstore isn't just a place to buy books; it's a community hub where characters of all kinds cross paths. One afternoon, amidst the gentle hum of conversations and the occasional rustle of pages, she appeared. This little old lady, with her spirited aura and a twinkle in her eye, approached the counter with an armful of art supplies. She overflowed with enthusiasm for our store, lamenting how she wished she could linger longer but her husband patiently waited in the car—oh, and she simply must buy him some chocolate! Her presence was a burst of sunshine. She noticed my bangs and likened them to the ocean, playfully g

Officially, there are now 563,000 souls packed into this particular can of sardines. However, I suspect the true number is even higher. Illustration by Steve Bonello   There are many, many more people living here off the books. Your drawing accurately depicts our situation, and if someone gets their way, it will be catastrophic within a few years.  The most worrying statistic is this: among those aged 20 to 50, there are 35,000 more men than women. This disparity spells serious trouble.  The islands cover just 316 square kilometers, with an average population density of 1,781 people per square kilometer. This is not a joke!

So, picture this: I recently decided to dine at a traditional Maltese restaurant. You'd expect a cozy, authentic experience, right? Wrong. The waiters were Indian. Now, don't get me wrong, they were polite, well-spoken, and knew the menu inside out. But the food? It was as disappointing as a lukewarm cup of tea. Then I noticed the chef was Indian too. An Indian chef cooking Maltese dishes? It's like having a Yorkshireman prepare sushi. No wonder it tasted off. My day continued with a standard-sized Maltese wedding gig. They had a charming Maltese bus for the wedding party, a real throwback. But guess who was driving? An Indian chap promptly scraped the side of the bus against the entrance pillar. It looked as out of place as a vegetarian in a steakhouse. The wedding spread was brimming with Maltese dips and snacks, but every waiter was Indian. None of them had a clue what they were serving. Hearing them try to pronounce "pastizzi" was pure comedy. I've got a f

Living with ADHD is like driving a Formula 1 car with BMX bike brakes. The speed, the insights, the brilliance—it's all there, but controlling it, harnessing it, and making it work within the constraints of everyday life is a constant challenge. Here's a glimpse into my world, shaped by the exhilarating highs and frustrating lows of ADHD. One of the most striking aspects of my experience is the contrast between my intellectual capabilities and my practical execution. I am often brighter than almost everyone around me, learning new things incredibly fast when I am engaged. I can see deeply into problems, developing an abstract understanding of a new area much faster than others. I'm very good at anticipating problems and making a plan, yet I struggle terribly with executing those plans. Distraction is a constant companion, leading me to start and abandon projects frequently. I am an information junkie, loving to learn new things, yet this enthusiasm often leads me astray. I

 The world today seems to be increasingly designed to make us feel unhappy. This is because happiness is not very profitable for the economy. If we were content with what we have, there would be no need for us to buy more things. For businesses to thrive, they need us to constantly want more, feel dissatisfied, and seek improvement in various aspects of our lives. Consider how companies sell anti-aging moisturizers. They do this by making us worry about getting older. Advertisements highlight the signs of aging and make us feel insecure about our appearance. This insecurity drives us to buy their products in hopes of maintaining a youthful look. Similarly, political campaigns often use fear to gain support. For example, they might make people worry about immigration. By playing on these fears, they persuade people to vote for their party, promising to address these issues. Insurance companies also thrive on our worries. They sell us peace of mind by making us anxious about potential da

Throughout the rich and developed world, we are not facing a lack of wealth or material things. Instead, we are experiencing a crisis of character and virtue. This issue goes beyond the usual problems of not having enough resources and touches on our deeper values and ethics. We are dealing with a problem about how we achieve our goals and what those goals are. In the twenty-first century, the main political divide has changed. It is no longer just about right versus left. Instead, it is about the immature values that exist on both sides versus the more mature and thoughtful values that can also be found on both sides. This change shows a deeper problem in our political and social discussions, where good character and virtue are often overlooked for quick wins and surface-level successes. In the past, political debates were often about clear-cut issues like communism versus capitalism or freedom versus equality. These debates were important, but they are not as defining today. Now, our

Watch,  Filmmakers Mock High-Spending Film Commission with €150 Satire Ah, welcome to the wild, wacky world of Malta's film industry. Hold onto your hats because we've got a tale that’s as unbelievable and shocking. This story has it all: outrageous spending, local talent on a shoestring budget, and a satire that leaves us all wondering how our tax euros are really being used. WATCH IT FROM THIS LINK Picture this: weeks before Malta's film commissioner Johann Grech decided to burn a staggering €500,000 on a short promo film (yes, you read that right, half a million euros!), some of Malta's finest acting talents cobbled together a satirical blockbuster trailer on a budget that wouldn’t even cover a night out at Nando's. The cost? A laughable €150.  Our protagonist, Maxime Durand, a local filmmaker with a penchant for irony, directed this satirical gem. His creation, "Day of the Pay," is a five-minute marvel of mockery aimed squarely at the high-spending ant

I am absolutely livid at the complete lack of control and the fact that we are being run by a bunch of primitive, incompetent buffoons! The iconic HMV sign above the doorway of D’Amato Records, an invaluable piece of history since right after World War II, has been smashed to pieces overnight by a reckless construction crew in Valletta. This sign wasn't just a piece of plastic; it was a symbol of resilience and history, the oldest HMV sign in the world, proudly displayed for decades. Owners fear the perspex sign has been irreparably damaged. Photo: Chris Sant Fournier Anthony D’Amato, co-owner of D’Amato Records, is rightfully in shock. He found out about the destruction of the sign, which had adorned the shop since the post-war era, without so much as a word of apology from the responsible party. This is beyond disrespectful—it's infuriating. These moronic contractors couldn't even muster the decency to walk into the shop and apologize. It's as if we're living in a

 Ah, the Volkswagen Golf Mk1. Now here's a car that didn’t just roll off the production line; it roared into the automotive scene and changed the game forever. Let’s wind the clock back to the early 1970s. Volkswagen was at a crossroads, clinging to the old ways with their rear-wheel-drive, rear-mounted air-cooled engines. Enter the Golf Mk1, the car that would redefine the company and set a new benchmark for small family cars. Picture this: a world where the Beetle was still king, but the competition was heating up. Volkswagen needed something fresh, something bold. And thus, the Golf Mk1 was born. It wasn’t just a car; it was a statement. Out with the old and in with the new—front-wheel drive, front-mounted water-cooled engines, and a sleek, modern design. This was a radical departure from the status quo, and it paid off big time. The brilliance of the Golf Mk1 lay in its simplicity and ingenuity. Here was a car that was practical, efficient, and, most importantly, fun to drive.

 Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get real for a second! If you’re paying attention to what’s happening in Malta, you’re probably feeling a bit freaked out right now, and rightfully so! Minister Clyde Caruana just dropped a bombshell: if we stick to our current economic model, by 2040, our tiny islands could be bursting with 800,000 people! Yeah, you heard that right—800,000! PHOTO TIMES OF MALTA Now, back in 2021, the population was 519,562, and it’s definitely gone up since then. Given how small Malta is, this isn’t just a problem, it’s a disaster waiting to happen. Caruana’s been waving the red flag for a while now, saying we need to change our economic game plan. But the Labour Government keeps listening to those money-hungry fat cats pushing the idea that we need endless construction and a flood of foreign workers to keep our economy afloat. Let’s cut the crap—Malta’s economy didn’t grow just because of construction. It’s sectors like finance, gaming, and tourism that did the heavy lif

Resistance often amplifies the energies it aims to oppose by giving them more power and attention. We all know what it's like to be haunted by an issue, no matter how hard we try to ignore, avoid, or escape it. It may seem like we can get rid of something unwanted by simply pushing it away. However, most of the time, the more we push, the more resistance we encounter. This is explained by both physical and metaphysical laws, often summarized by the saying: what you resist persists. Resistance can even enhance the thoughts and feelings it tries to fight by giving them more power. Additionally, it prevents us from understanding what we're trying to avoid. To fully grasp something, we must be open to receiving some of its energy; otherwise, we miss out on its lessons. There’s a Tibetan story about a monk who retreats to a cave to meditate but is plagued by demons. He tries everything—chasing, fighting, hiding—to rid the cave of demons, but what finally works is surrender. By letti