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The Gvle Goat had its most recent attack this year.
The photo was taken by Matthew Schwartz and Perla Wahalman of the news agency.
If you have never heard of the Gvle Goat, there are two critical pieces of information you need to know.
Every Christmas in the Swedish town of Gvle, a giant straw statue of a goat is built. It was first installed in 1966 and is a traditional symbol of the season in Northern Europe. The most recent incarnation is 42 feet high and weighs 3.6 tonnes.
The goat is on fire every year. This one is one of the most successful.
A giant straw goat that has become an annual highlight in the Swedish city of Gavle has been burned. A man in his 40s was arrested after the structure was set alight. The goat has been attacked many times before, but has survived every festive period since 2016 under 24-hour security.
I think this is the spirit of Christmas, even though it sounds sad. The battle between goat-erectors and goat-burners, between the forces of cozy commercialization, and the contrasting, primeval urge to set something huge are what the fire represents.
Noupscale is a file onchorusasset.com.
The goat was in 2015.
The photo credit should be read by Matthew ASTRAND.
The Gvle Goat is a beast that records its fate every year on the page of the encyclopedia, and preventative measures taken by the authorities and the manner of its demise.
Since 1966 the goat has been stolen, hit by a car, and kicked to pieces, but the most popular method of dispatch is definitely fire. Drunken teenagers, Norwegians, and even a passing American have all been blamed for attacks over the years, but it is curious to me how unprepared these culprits are. They were compelled in the moment by forces beyond their control, but they hadn't actually planned the attacks.
In 2015, a man was arrested for torching a goat and fined 100,000 kronor. The man who fled the scene after the statue went up in flames had a singed face, smelled of gasoline, and was holding a lighter in his hand, and was quickly identified as the guilty party. I think this sounds like a man possessed by the spirit of his pagan ancestors to restart the fires of the world and bring warmth and light back into the universe, one goat at a time.
I know that burning down a statue is not fun for the people who fund and protect it. The goat's spokeswoman was reported by the news organization. Rebecca was devastated by this year's attack. She told the news organization that she couldn't understand how a person could carry out an attack on a Christmas symbol.
Come on. The Gvle Goat is more famous for being burned down than it is for being left intact. The authorities are not afraid of playing with fire. The official account for the goat has been goading would-be firebombers, saying, "Half way through and this goat is still standing and looking so good!" and "I'm the one and only..." If I lived in Gvle, the only topic of conversation in the pub would be who is going to get the bastard goat.
They got him this year. The goat-erectors will have to console themselves with the international publicity they attracted. We should not mourn the Gvle Goat more than we should mourn barren trees and empty fields. If winter teaches us anything, it is that life is a cycle, that good times follow bad, and that if we keep warm and dry, things will get better.
The goat is gone, but it is only a matter of time before someone tries to burn it down again.
