I think I will begin with the story about sex segregation in universities. It is easily batted away because it is a paradigm of something I have been saying for years; that political correctness will eat itself.
PC is the child of moral relativism, which is essentially belief in nothingism. Accordingly it is no surprise when one thought of legitimate viewpoint collides with another. In this case it is feminism opposing religion, or more specifically the Muslim religion. Both have a point of view and both are seen as bedfellows of the politically correct. They are arguing among themselves, but in their confusion, they don't really understand what the argument is. If you don't believe me, read the narrative yourself.
I wish God would give us a sign. I wish he would come down and tell us what is wrong. Oh, I forgot, Jesus did that and he got the cold shoulder. So don't rely on signs, the writing on the wall is already there. That is unless you are deaf, in which case you will have to rely on signs, or sign language.
You are ahead of me.. be patient.
I would love to have been a fly on the wall when the POTUS, the single most powerful man on the planet, was told that he was a heartbeat away from the hands of a grade A lunatic. It turns out that the official (fake) sign language interpreter at the funeral of Nelson Mandela has a history of mental illness, prison, and is a self-confessed violent schizophrenic who heard voices and saw angels. He was a couple of feet away from Barak Obama, possibly also one of the most heavily guarded people in the world, too. The interpreter has in the past been charged with murder, kidnap and rape.
How he got to be in this incredible position is interesting, but I doubt if anyone responsible will provide a straight answer. In a country wracked with corruption, nepotism and crime, it will all depend on whether the ruling powers can find a suitably compliant scapegoat.
And what of this fake sign language specialist? I suppose the charitable view is that he was not the only fake on the platform.
Friday, 13 December 2013
Friday, 8 November 2013
Somewhere in the corner of a foreign field lies a poppy that has fallen off my coat.
I am astonished at the amount of venom aimed at people who don't wear poppies to remember those who have fallen in armed conflict. I am a patriot, but I thought we were fighting for the right to freedom of expression. Apparently not.
I have not been wearing a poppy because I don't have a buttonhole, or a button for that matter, on my goretex jacket, and it fell off today before I could get to the door.
I happen to have mentioned this on certain forums and been roundly told off. Well, unless they come up with an alternative way of displaying poppies, as opposed to the pin (bronze age solution) or a plastic one with a barb in it, the British Legion may find that interest in their poppies is going to wane. If there are poppies not being worn these days, I believe it is not due to a lack of respect, but a lack of buttonholes.
I shall be attending the Remembrance Sunday service at a local church and I shall wear a poppy in the one jacket that has a buttonhole. What is more important is that I remember how I came to be able to worship freely and express myself in this way. Those who fought for freedom paid a great price. It is therefore reasonable, but not obligatory, to get off my bottom once a year and salute them.
I have never gone in for badges of allegiance anyway. People seem to wear all manner of plastic bands and t-shirts to claim allegiance to something or other. Who the heck cares what you or I think? Actions speak louder than symbols. It comes to something when people object to the wearing of religious symbols. Are they really offended? But when it appears that not wearing something can cause such recrimination, as the kind I have read about, the world has gone mad.
John Cole, the former BBC political editor has died. Cole was an exemplar of the last time anyone at the BBC attempted to report on a political story without being in thrall to the liberal left narrative that has become obligatory at the Broken Biscuit Company. Ironically, Cole hated everything Thatcher stood for, but you would not have known it. In fact you would not have known much at all because his Northern Irish accent was extraordinarily distracting.
I am currently reading a fascinating book about the Scottish Enlightenment. It is not possible to sum up the scope of the subject here, but a couple of things struck me. The first is that the protagonists met together in taverns and coffee shops, then buildings appointed for the purpose. They formed clubs, one of which exists now as the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Such allegiances were not without danger. Some came into direct opposition with the all-powerful Kirk. The last man to be hanged for heresy was dispatched in Edinburgh, with the connivance of the Scottish Church. Of course, it was all done at a time when they also executed people for witchcraft. It is the sort of thing that still goes on in other parts of the world. Except that we have it here, in the 21st Century. A man, an innocent man, was beaten up and set on fire because he was suspected of being a paedophile. There is no difference. The action was born out of hatred, fear and ignorance.
What these Enlightenment people did was crucial to their thinking; they corresponded with each other and met to debate the issues of the day. That way, they were able to test their theories and arguments with their peers. They dared to say what could not be said and many were denied positions of authority because of it. And this also still happens today. There are universities in this country that will deny recognition to The State of Israel and deny its academics a platform. Enlightenment? I call it a descent into superstition.
There is one more thing. The writer of this book on The Enlightenment explains that what came out of it was a vocabulary of thought. The discourse gave the protagonists a lexicon; words to express concepts that needed form and a common understanding. The writer argues that without this, it would have been difficult for thinkers to arrive at novel propositions or radical ideas, if the words and phrases were not readily available.
In an exposition of 1984, Orwell says something similar about Newspeak. He tells us that the purpose of Newspeak is not to censor thought, but to make it impossible to have such thoughts in the first place.
I have not been wearing a poppy because I don't have a buttonhole, or a button for that matter, on my goretex jacket, and it fell off today before I could get to the door.
I happen to have mentioned this on certain forums and been roundly told off. Well, unless they come up with an alternative way of displaying poppies, as opposed to the pin (bronze age solution) or a plastic one with a barb in it, the British Legion may find that interest in their poppies is going to wane. If there are poppies not being worn these days, I believe it is not due to a lack of respect, but a lack of buttonholes.
I shall be attending the Remembrance Sunday service at a local church and I shall wear a poppy in the one jacket that has a buttonhole. What is more important is that I remember how I came to be able to worship freely and express myself in this way. Those who fought for freedom paid a great price. It is therefore reasonable, but not obligatory, to get off my bottom once a year and salute them.
I have never gone in for badges of allegiance anyway. People seem to wear all manner of plastic bands and t-shirts to claim allegiance to something or other. Who the heck cares what you or I think? Actions speak louder than symbols. It comes to something when people object to the wearing of religious symbols. Are they really offended? But when it appears that not wearing something can cause such recrimination, as the kind I have read about, the world has gone mad.
*****
John Cole, the former BBC political editor has died. Cole was an exemplar of the last time anyone at the BBC attempted to report on a political story without being in thrall to the liberal left narrative that has become obligatory at the Broken Biscuit Company. Ironically, Cole hated everything Thatcher stood for, but you would not have known it. In fact you would not have known much at all because his Northern Irish accent was extraordinarily distracting.
*****
I am currently reading a fascinating book about the Scottish Enlightenment. It is not possible to sum up the scope of the subject here, but a couple of things struck me. The first is that the protagonists met together in taverns and coffee shops, then buildings appointed for the purpose. They formed clubs, one of which exists now as the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Such allegiances were not without danger. Some came into direct opposition with the all-powerful Kirk. The last man to be hanged for heresy was dispatched in Edinburgh, with the connivance of the Scottish Church. Of course, it was all done at a time when they also executed people for witchcraft. It is the sort of thing that still goes on in other parts of the world. Except that we have it here, in the 21st Century. A man, an innocent man, was beaten up and set on fire because he was suspected of being a paedophile. There is no difference. The action was born out of hatred, fear and ignorance.
What these Enlightenment people did was crucial to their thinking; they corresponded with each other and met to debate the issues of the day. That way, they were able to test their theories and arguments with their peers. They dared to say what could not be said and many were denied positions of authority because of it. And this also still happens today. There are universities in this country that will deny recognition to The State of Israel and deny its academics a platform. Enlightenment? I call it a descent into superstition.
There is one more thing. The writer of this book on The Enlightenment explains that what came out of it was a vocabulary of thought. The discourse gave the protagonists a lexicon; words to express concepts that needed form and a common understanding. The writer argues that without this, it would have been difficult for thinkers to arrive at novel propositions or radical ideas, if the words and phrases were not readily available.
In an exposition of 1984, Orwell says something similar about Newspeak. He tells us that the purpose of Newspeak is not to censor thought, but to make it impossible to have such thoughts in the first place.
Monday, 28 October 2013
Lou Reed - Urban Hermit
There are no pictures of Lou Reed in the country, walking through fields or on the beach. In at least half of the publicly available photographs, Reed is wearing shades. And yet, mythically, Reed lived and worked solely lit by artificial light, propelled by heroic quantities of drugs and the kind of energy that only an exclusively urban world can give.
I don't think anybody can describe him primarily as a musician. John Cale is primarily a musician, Reed was not. Reed was a lyrical and vocal conduit, and perhaps that is more important. He stood in symbolic relation to a period of time and specifically, the whole milieu around Andy Warhol.
His contribution, in terms of quantity of output is sporadic and at times very sketchy. The crucial albums were the Warhol/Banana/Velvet Underground one (actually called The Velvet Underground and Nico), Transformer and Berlin. Of these, I consider Berlin to be his best. It is stripped down and lush at the same time. The line-up of top class musicians underpins what is a real album, a simple, often bleak message about loss and decay and abuse. Coney Island Baby is best forgotten, as is Metal Machine Music, Rock and Roll Heart and most of the others.
Sadly, Lou Reed is an example of someone whose reputation got well ahead of his talent. At times he was able to attract really great musicians on the sole currency of his charisma and seminal place in the development of rock music. Not all his material is profound and much of it, despite the edgy, metropolitan grime, just glib and sentimental.
One might wonder if, during the last months of his life, whether Reed mellowed at all or changed his outlook, particularly after a liver transplant. It didn't. He was nasty and egotistical to the end and rarely acknowledged that he owed much of his success to a lot of people of greater talent and humanity. He always maintained that he didn't take drugs to get high, he took drugs to feel normal. It is perhaps then, a pity that he never stepped outside his hermetic lifestyle and abandoned the wild side for the sea side.
I don't think anybody can describe him primarily as a musician. John Cale is primarily a musician, Reed was not. Reed was a lyrical and vocal conduit, and perhaps that is more important. He stood in symbolic relation to a period of time and specifically, the whole milieu around Andy Warhol.
His contribution, in terms of quantity of output is sporadic and at times very sketchy. The crucial albums were the Warhol/Banana/Velvet Underground one (actually called The Velvet Underground and Nico), Transformer and Berlin. Of these, I consider Berlin to be his best. It is stripped down and lush at the same time. The line-up of top class musicians underpins what is a real album, a simple, often bleak message about loss and decay and abuse. Coney Island Baby is best forgotten, as is Metal Machine Music, Rock and Roll Heart and most of the others.
Sadly, Lou Reed is an example of someone whose reputation got well ahead of his talent. At times he was able to attract really great musicians on the sole currency of his charisma and seminal place in the development of rock music. Not all his material is profound and much of it, despite the edgy, metropolitan grime, just glib and sentimental.
One might wonder if, during the last months of his life, whether Reed mellowed at all or changed his outlook, particularly after a liver transplant. It didn't. He was nasty and egotistical to the end and rarely acknowledged that he owed much of his success to a lot of people of greater talent and humanity. He always maintained that he didn't take drugs to get high, he took drugs to feel normal. It is perhaps then, a pity that he never stepped outside his hermetic lifestyle and abandoned the wild side for the sea side.
Saturday, 26 October 2013
Latvian Climate Change Scientist who killed Badger while cycling to Harlow Sex Clinic, "Unrepentant"
Valdis Sprudz, (32) Ran over and killed the badger, leaving it to die slowly on the road, a court heard today. Sprudz, an enviromental scientist and vegetarian from Riga, showed no remorse, said the Judge, but in the light of Sprudz upcoming gender-realigment operation on the NHS, was given a ten pound fine and a reprimand.
Guardian and Daily Mail readers were seen fighting outside the court.
Guardian and Daily Mail readers were seen fighting outside the court.
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
Women! Know Your Limits!
I have to preface this with a video. Some people might not have seen it and it puts what I am about to say in context; a fairly tongue-in-cheek context.
http://www.carsite.co.uk/gallery/videos/id/5346-harry-enfield---women-dont-drive
(I can't get it to embed and the YouTube version has been removed by the BBC.)
In the Telegraph, a woman, Belinda Parmar, has been blathering on about being treated badly by car salesmen. Well, the news is that car salesmen are creeps. They are just as bad with men, but they tend to treat women differently. That is all. Differently, not better, not worse.
Here's a bit of what she is saying:
Oh grow up. If you, as a woman, want to be treated like a man, I suggest the following line of attack, based upon my own experience. But don't go on moaning about how terrible it is being a woman.
http://www.carsite.co.uk/gallery/videos/id/5346-harry-enfield---women-dont-drive
(I can't get it to embed and the YouTube version has been removed by the BBC.)
In the Telegraph, a woman, Belinda Parmar, has been blathering on about being treated badly by car salesmen. Well, the news is that car salesmen are creeps. They are just as bad with men, but they tend to treat women differently. That is all. Differently, not better, not worse.
Here's a bit of what she is saying:
There’s no place on earth that’s more of a man’s world than the car showroom...My first stop was a Nissan show-room: the sales rep was an older gent. He’d obviously read in some salesman’s manual that if you wanted to close that deal you ought to use somebody's first name. Again, again and again. “Belinda”, he said “Why don’t you see the new ‘Note’”, “And Belinda, while you are at it take a look at the beautiful new colour - what do you think of that Belinda? Belinda...”.
I’m not alone in feeling underserved and ignored by this entire industry
Oh grow up. If you, as a woman, want to be treated like a man, I suggest the following line of attack, based upon my own experience. But don't go on moaning about how terrible it is being a woman.
This is the advice I gave her:
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Tuesday, 15 October 2013
Vaping, Bricking and Unhalfbricking
This is what I did tonight.
There was a salad, consisting of mixed grains, cucumber, red peppers, roasted sesame seeds, herbs,various leaves and some manchego cheese. A simple dressing of oil, vinegar and lemon juice. A gin and tonic was on standby throughout. A pile of ironing, the kind of pile that threatens and accuses had to be addressed. I popped on Two favourite albums to get me through; Unhalfbricking, by Fairport Convention and Nanci Griffiths greatest hits.
No, it isn't that interesting, but I am not on Facebook or Twitter. And the last time I looked, nobody is going through my garbage in order to find out more.
Unhalfbricking is eclectic - a kind word for all over the place. The world at the time (1969) was going through a disturbing Dylan Covers phase. Graham Nash even quit The Hollies over their plans to do "The Hollies sing Dylan". What happened to him? Who Knows Where the Time Goes and A Sailor's Life are the non-Dylan highlight of Unhalfbricking. I was secretly proud of my son when he used the former in a short film. (He often trawls my collection).
Nanci Griffiths, well you either like or do not like country. The late Bob Newhart once said during a show: "I don't like country music, I am sorry. But I don't denigrate those who do. And for those people in the audience tonight who do, "denigrate" means to put down."
If you think that I am a member of the Klan, drive a Chevrolet truck and live in a trailer park, you really must think again. Country music is white soul. And anyway, Nanci is about as far removed from the stereotypical white trash model that you can get. I cry every time I hear "Trouble in the Fields" and you must have a heart of stone if you don't.
I would like a Chevrolet truck though, but you can leave out the membership of the NRA and the oral tobacco.
Talking of tobacco, I can report further on my dalliance with Vaping. I think I have finally figured it out. What you need to know, is that to be a committed vaper, you have to be a physicist, a chemist and a lot of patience. So much of the equipment associated with vaping is duff. It's almost all made in China and it is perfectly clear that they design the batteries to explode and cause collateral damage. However, because they are made in China, mine have not exploded, they just gave in after a few sessions. Ditto the cheaper cartomisers. For the record, and because one or two readers might be interested, I now have a Pro-tank Mini, connected to an eGO-T 660Mah battery. My favourite juice is Virgin Vapour Organic's Celestial Honeydew. It works and will do fine until I start getting serious. Yes, you can have this rig - when you pull it from my cold, dead hands.
The best place I know to get everything, usually by the next day, is
Excuse the puff (and excuse the pun) but they have been very understanding with me over the rotten Chinese batteries and there are a lot of very bad places to buy vaping requisites, so consider your card marked. If you can't find what you want on their web site, it is worth giving them a ring.
My local Scottish Nationalist MSP continues to stir up public discontent by advocating that all seasonal goods be banned from stores until two weeks before the event, In this week's local paper, she bemoans the fact that Christmas goods are on sale right now. This is the kind of murderous, Stalinist action you are going to get if you vote "YES" to Scottish Independence, along with eating English Children, banning laughter on Sundays and compulsory tartan pants. But seriously, the "NO" campaign shows every sign of putting Josef Goebbels to shame and I really do wish the shops would stop turning Christmas into a three-month nightmare.
My teeth keep giving me gyp. I had a wisdom tooth removed a week ago and another front tooth has been replaced by a temporary cap. Neither will let me forget the fact. The car has cost over £500 in maintenance this month and I am looking at a similar amount to have a wing replaced. I am facing my 60th birthday (at the beginning of next year) with some trepidation. I would really like to do something, but the money is tight. Ah well, it could be worse. And it is not as if I have a lot of people who I must see on the day.
There was a salad, consisting of mixed grains, cucumber, red peppers, roasted sesame seeds, herbs,various leaves and some manchego cheese. A simple dressing of oil, vinegar and lemon juice. A gin and tonic was on standby throughout. A pile of ironing, the kind of pile that threatens and accuses had to be addressed. I popped on Two favourite albums to get me through; Unhalfbricking, by Fairport Convention and Nanci Griffiths greatest hits.
No, it isn't that interesting, but I am not on Facebook or Twitter. And the last time I looked, nobody is going through my garbage in order to find out more.
Unhalfbricking is eclectic - a kind word for all over the place. The world at the time (1969) was going through a disturbing Dylan Covers phase. Graham Nash even quit The Hollies over their plans to do "The Hollies sing Dylan". What happened to him? Who Knows Where the Time Goes and A Sailor's Life are the non-Dylan highlight of Unhalfbricking. I was secretly proud of my son when he used the former in a short film. (He often trawls my collection).
Nanci Griffiths, well you either like or do not like country. The late Bob Newhart once said during a show: "I don't like country music, I am sorry. But I don't denigrate those who do. And for those people in the audience tonight who do, "denigrate" means to put down."
If you think that I am a member of the Klan, drive a Chevrolet truck and live in a trailer park, you really must think again. Country music is white soul. And anyway, Nanci is about as far removed from the stereotypical white trash model that you can get. I cry every time I hear "Trouble in the Fields" and you must have a heart of stone if you don't.
I would like a Chevrolet truck though, but you can leave out the membership of the NRA and the oral tobacco.
Talking of tobacco, I can report further on my dalliance with Vaping. I think I have finally figured it out. What you need to know, is that to be a committed vaper, you have to be a physicist, a chemist and a lot of patience. So much of the equipment associated with vaping is duff. It's almost all made in China and it is perfectly clear that they design the batteries to explode and cause collateral damage. However, because they are made in China, mine have not exploded, they just gave in after a few sessions. Ditto the cheaper cartomisers. For the record, and because one or two readers might be interested, I now have a Pro-tank Mini, connected to an eGO-T 660Mah battery. My favourite juice is Virgin Vapour Organic's Celestial Honeydew. It works and will do fine until I start getting serious. Yes, you can have this rig - when you pull it from my cold, dead hands.
The best place I know to get everything, usually by the next day, is
Excuse the puff (and excuse the pun) but they have been very understanding with me over the rotten Chinese batteries and there are a lot of very bad places to buy vaping requisites, so consider your card marked. If you can't find what you want on their web site, it is worth giving them a ring.
My local Scottish Nationalist MSP continues to stir up public discontent by advocating that all seasonal goods be banned from stores until two weeks before the event, In this week's local paper, she bemoans the fact that Christmas goods are on sale right now. This is the kind of murderous, Stalinist action you are going to get if you vote "YES" to Scottish Independence, along with eating English Children, banning laughter on Sundays and compulsory tartan pants. But seriously, the "NO" campaign shows every sign of putting Josef Goebbels to shame and I really do wish the shops would stop turning Christmas into a three-month nightmare.
My teeth keep giving me gyp. I had a wisdom tooth removed a week ago and another front tooth has been replaced by a temporary cap. Neither will let me forget the fact. The car has cost over £500 in maintenance this month and I am looking at a similar amount to have a wing replaced. I am facing my 60th birthday (at the beginning of next year) with some trepidation. I would really like to do something, but the money is tight. Ah well, it could be worse. And it is not as if I have a lot of people who I must see on the day.
Friday, 11 October 2013
Got a Boner?
I must say a word about John Boehner, but first I must ask if my American readers know who the Speaker of the House of Commons is? I thought not. First off, why is Amy Poehler pronounced Polar and why is Boehner pronounced Baynor? He has a fascinating accent. He pronounces Bob as Bab, and economy as ecanamy. Not all Americans do this, so why does he? He has a great tan and he wears those smart white button down collar shirts. I wish I knew where he got them. I have tried to understand, but I really don't know why I can no longer visit the NASA website because John Baynor has somehow contrived to shut down the entire United States of America.
I hope nobody loses their jaab.
*****
I'm not on Facebook. You won't find me on Twitter, or if you do, you will see that I have not tweeted, since I only use it to comment on the blogs of certain individuals who insist on signing in with the damn thing. Indeed, My cyber footprint amounts only to the thousands of comments I have left elsewhere, this blog, and its predecessor. This is my message in a bottle. I have always thought that it does not matter who reads it today or tomorrow, but who will read it ten, twenty or a hundred years from now. A smart computer of the future will be able to cherry pick my wisdom, and leave aside the rest.
Frankly, I would be surprised if anyone bothered, but you never know.
We look to the past with hindsight. A tautology, I know, but an ironic one. If, fifty years ago, and only fifty years ago, I had told you that homosexuals would have their societal equality enshrined in law, that they could sue anybody who dared to discriminate, I think you would be astonished. In 1963 homosexuality was still illegal. Before that, women could not vote. Before that, it was perfectly normal for the upper classes to take precedence in matters of national importance. The point is, nobody at the time, apart from a few visionaries, dared to challenge the prevalent orthodoxy. Do you really think we are in anyway released from the shackles of our own time and our own learned ways?
It brings me, in a round about kind of way, to The Guardian. For visitor from outwith the UK, The Guardian is a Liberal Left newspaper. It has a low circulation but it is overly revered by the Liberal Elite who run this country and in particular, the British Broadcasting Corporation. In fact, the BBC only ever advertises its jobs in The Guardian and has done for decades.
So it is interesting that today, The Guardian went a little too far. One of its pundits, Polly Toynbee, cited some particularly nasty cases of child abuse and laid the fault at the door of the Tories:
Factually, she was wrong, because these cases occurred during Labour's period of office. The upshot was that, having realised they had gone too far this time, the Left's propaganda machine went into overdrive to limit the damage and to some extent backtrack. Amazingly, even the readers of this terrible rag did not agree. They came out heavily against the rantings of Ms Toynbee. I dare say she will retreat to her villa in Tuscany to get over it.It is the Baby Ps and Hamzah Khans who pay for this Tory vandalism
I am not particularly interested in Polly Toynbee, even though she is a favourite at the BBC. What interests me is the way the Left attack those who disagree. It is textbook Nazi handbook stuff.
Here is a summation of the way Nazi Propaganda worked:
Avoid abstract ideas - appeal to the emotions.
Constantly repeat just a few ideas. Use stereotyped phrases.
Give only one side of the argument.
Continuously criticize your opponents.
Pick out one special "enemy" for special vilification.
(What I would include, in recognition of the Guardian's comments policy is: Never allow rational, convincing arguments that are contrary to our view.)
What most people in the UK find incomprehensible, annoying, etc, is that this tiny minority, the liberal left, shout the loudest and shout down the opposition at every opportunity. They have infested our national broadcasting organisation and they continue to agitate for the abolition of thought and freedom to take a different view.
Monday, 7 October 2013
Appeasement of Hitler was a bad idea
No shit, Sherlock. But when I read some of the remarks on some of the comment platforms, I cannot help but become conscious of those who are blessed with the gift of hindsight.
A recent article springs to mind, about Neville Chamberlain. Remember him? The Prime Minister with the bit of paper? The revisionist writer tells us,
"I cannot sweep aside the stubborn realisation that Chamberlain’s misjudgement cost millions of lives"
Debate on contentious issues takes place in a historical context. It might sound obvious: people only know what they know at the time and they are influenced by their education, prevalent social mores and previous experience.
It came up again the other day with a predictably chaotic discussion (in the Guardian) about Christianity. Essentially, one thread of the putative "debate" was about historicity and whether or not Christianity had an influence on slavery, socialism, the NHS and the introduction of the tambourine.
For every one who pointed out that there were committed Christians at the heart of the emergence of Socialism (Keir Hardie for example, or the Tolpuddle Martyrs) or the Abolition of Slavery, there was a biteback post telling us that Christianity is responsible for all the evil in the world and that Slavery in particular was condoned in the Bible.
My point is that unless you have a clear understanding of historical context, your summation of important milestones in our social evolution will be worse than bad, they will simply bugger up our ability to cope with the future.
As for Chamberlain, his world was one with a daily reminder of the Great War. Burnt out and crippled men, trudging the streets looking for a job - great if you have the requisite number of limbs and eyes and an ability to cope with the occasional loud bang. (Don't forget, a hundred years ago we shot soldiers who had nervous breakdowns on the battlefield.) The Western world had no stomach for war. At the time, Chamberlain was paraded as a master of diplomacy.
Churchill was heterodox. Today, ironically enough, he would never have assumed the greatest office of state. Vanilla, he was not. He was, practically, a lone voice in the wilderness, who believed that war was inevitable. The general reaction was, "No, no, no, I'm not listening" In Cabinet, the reaction was that Churchill was dangerous and bitter. There were plenty of personal attacks on him and plenty of the powerful media barons who supported appeasement. All over free Europe, he was a hero.
A recent article springs to mind, about Neville Chamberlain. Remember him? The Prime Minister with the bit of paper? The revisionist writer tells us,
"I cannot sweep aside the stubborn realisation that Chamberlain’s misjudgement cost millions of lives"
Debate on contentious issues takes place in a historical context. It might sound obvious: people only know what they know at the time and they are influenced by their education, prevalent social mores and previous experience.
It came up again the other day with a predictably chaotic discussion (in the Guardian) about Christianity. Essentially, one thread of the putative "debate" was about historicity and whether or not Christianity had an influence on slavery, socialism, the NHS and the introduction of the tambourine.
For every one who pointed out that there were committed Christians at the heart of the emergence of Socialism (Keir Hardie for example, or the Tolpuddle Martyrs) or the Abolition of Slavery, there was a biteback post telling us that Christianity is responsible for all the evil in the world and that Slavery in particular was condoned in the Bible.
My point is that unless you have a clear understanding of historical context, your summation of important milestones in our social evolution will be worse than bad, they will simply bugger up our ability to cope with the future.
As for Chamberlain, his world was one with a daily reminder of the Great War. Burnt out and crippled men, trudging the streets looking for a job - great if you have the requisite number of limbs and eyes and an ability to cope with the occasional loud bang. (Don't forget, a hundred years ago we shot soldiers who had nervous breakdowns on the battlefield.) The Western world had no stomach for war. At the time, Chamberlain was paraded as a master of diplomacy.
Churchill was heterodox. Today, ironically enough, he would never have assumed the greatest office of state. Vanilla, he was not. He was, practically, a lone voice in the wilderness, who believed that war was inevitable. The general reaction was, "No, no, no, I'm not listening" In Cabinet, the reaction was that Churchill was dangerous and bitter. There were plenty of personal attacks on him and plenty of the powerful media barons who supported appeasement. All over free Europe, he was a hero.
No alternative to the policy of appeasement was ever consistently articulated in theSo, I think there has to be a mending of the disconnect between received wisdom - hindsight - and the kind of reality that stares us in the face. Without it, we cannot properly address the problems we face today.
press.(Richard Crockett, Twilight of Truth)
Friday, 4 October 2013
Bad Day at Black Rock
The loner comes into town and already he is asking too many questions. Questions like, "Where's the lavatory?" and "Can you recommend a decent place to eat?" In the case of Spencer Tracy as a one-armed stranger in that movie, he might be asking, "Where's the fork buffet?" "Do you sell single gloves?"
How we treat strangers is a reasonably good indicator of the temper of a town. My guide rule for traveling abroad is, how do the locals react when things go wrong?
Italians are frustrating in the extreme, but it is true that once they get to know you there is an emotional bond. There is a reason why Vladimir Putin and Silvio Berlusconi are such bosom pals. They are both emotional types. They may also be bastard types, but they appear to engage in the man-to-man bonding that nearly reaches, but just stops short of homosexuality. (As far as I know). Germans do a lot of sneering, but they must always make sure the rules are stuck to. Have a minor tussle with officialdom, and they will do it by the book. I find that re-assuring. If you ask for information, you will get it, and it will be truthful and accurate. Make a mistake, and they will gently let you know, but also they will tell you how to do it right.
This kind of thing is important if you find yourself in a jail cell through no fault of your own. In some places, they will do their best to effect justice, and in others they will simply shrug and leave you to rot. It is a kind of sobering thought that within Europe, you can experience both ends of the spectrum. Spain is an example of the bad end and Switzerland is an example of the good one.
Britain is interesting in this respect. Officials and the Police respond generally well to politeness. If you are thinking of coming here, remain polite and pleasant at the Border. If you call a member of the Border agency an asshole, expect him to spend a great deal of uncomfortable time examining yours.
I have been stopped by the police three or four times in my life. Twice for traffic violations and on both occasions I simply said, "It's a fair cop" (which it was). They like that kind of response and hey, you have to fess up and move on. I think a lot of this is my own personality. I avoid physical confrontation and I don't believe in treating people disrespectfully. It seems to work.
But what do you do when it is clear as day that the other one is at fault? My problem is that I only think of what I should have said, half an hour after the event. My mind does not run on real time.
My trick is to be prepared in advance. I do a lot of phoning organisations, public agencies and call centres. Not for a living, you understand, but because my life seems to be full of a hundred niggling things that need to be put right. Call centres of course, are by far the least pleasant experience. This is because people who work at them are stupid, or they could not care less, or they do not have a grasp of basic English or English culture. And quite often, they routinely lie. Examples are legion, but recent ones include our bank, who, having been informed of Mrs Weasel's trip to Moldova (I suspect they did not have a clue where Moldova was) made sure that her debit card would not pay her hotel bill.) Fortunately, we had pre-empted this possibility by carrying cash, but as you see, their lips move, they say all the right things, and then nothing happens. In another instance, I had a personal apology from the said bank because "unfortunately, one of our operatives fell short of our high standards of customer care." He actually told me a lot of lies.
Recently, there was a reported case of a woman at a supermarket check-out who was refused service by the check-out operator because she was on her phone at the time. People who work at these places aren't robots - though they may feel like it. Ignoring them while they do their job, scanning your stuff, shows contempt. It shows that you are too busy, too important to give them the time of day.
There is a balance to be had in our human transactions. "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." It's a reasonable aphorism to go by.
In other news, it has been a bad week for me. Dr Weasel has been away on one of her foreign jaunts, I have partially lost a front tooth and have had to have an extraction of my wisdom tooth. This is going to cost me £500 to have repaired properly, even at NHS rates. I ruined Ten quid's worth of steak by accidentally leaving it out of the freezer and the car is a collection of must-do jobs. I also seem to have had more than the usual number of opportunities to screw up online transactions, and then finding that the remedies were non-existent. There really are a lot of very badly written websites out there.
Well, never mind. I shall spend the weekend in the company of Jack, Jim and Johnny, take in an F1 Grand Prix and get into some good books. Funnily enough, I am feeling quite chipper!
How we treat strangers is a reasonably good indicator of the temper of a town. My guide rule for traveling abroad is, how do the locals react when things go wrong?
Italians are frustrating in the extreme, but it is true that once they get to know you there is an emotional bond. There is a reason why Vladimir Putin and Silvio Berlusconi are such bosom pals. They are both emotional types. They may also be bastard types, but they appear to engage in the man-to-man bonding that nearly reaches, but just stops short of homosexuality. (As far as I know). Germans do a lot of sneering, but they must always make sure the rules are stuck to. Have a minor tussle with officialdom, and they will do it by the book. I find that re-assuring. If you ask for information, you will get it, and it will be truthful and accurate. Make a mistake, and they will gently let you know, but also they will tell you how to do it right.
This kind of thing is important if you find yourself in a jail cell through no fault of your own. In some places, they will do their best to effect justice, and in others they will simply shrug and leave you to rot. It is a kind of sobering thought that within Europe, you can experience both ends of the spectrum. Spain is an example of the bad end and Switzerland is an example of the good one.
Britain is interesting in this respect. Officials and the Police respond generally well to politeness. If you are thinking of coming here, remain polite and pleasant at the Border. If you call a member of the Border agency an asshole, expect him to spend a great deal of uncomfortable time examining yours.
I have been stopped by the police three or four times in my life. Twice for traffic violations and on both occasions I simply said, "It's a fair cop" (which it was). They like that kind of response and hey, you have to fess up and move on. I think a lot of this is my own personality. I avoid physical confrontation and I don't believe in treating people disrespectfully. It seems to work.
But what do you do when it is clear as day that the other one is at fault? My problem is that I only think of what I should have said, half an hour after the event. My mind does not run on real time.
My trick is to be prepared in advance. I do a lot of phoning organisations, public agencies and call centres. Not for a living, you understand, but because my life seems to be full of a hundred niggling things that need to be put right. Call centres of course, are by far the least pleasant experience. This is because people who work at them are stupid, or they could not care less, or they do not have a grasp of basic English or English culture. And quite often, they routinely lie. Examples are legion, but recent ones include our bank, who, having been informed of Mrs Weasel's trip to Moldova (I suspect they did not have a clue where Moldova was) made sure that her debit card would not pay her hotel bill.) Fortunately, we had pre-empted this possibility by carrying cash, but as you see, their lips move, they say all the right things, and then nothing happens. In another instance, I had a personal apology from the said bank because "unfortunately, one of our operatives fell short of our high standards of customer care." He actually told me a lot of lies.
Recently, there was a reported case of a woman at a supermarket check-out who was refused service by the check-out operator because she was on her phone at the time. People who work at these places aren't robots - though they may feel like it. Ignoring them while they do their job, scanning your stuff, shows contempt. It shows that you are too busy, too important to give them the time of day.
There is a balance to be had in our human transactions. "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." It's a reasonable aphorism to go by.
In other news, it has been a bad week for me. Dr Weasel has been away on one of her foreign jaunts, I have partially lost a front tooth and have had to have an extraction of my wisdom tooth. This is going to cost me £500 to have repaired properly, even at NHS rates. I ruined Ten quid's worth of steak by accidentally leaving it out of the freezer and the car is a collection of must-do jobs. I also seem to have had more than the usual number of opportunities to screw up online transactions, and then finding that the remedies were non-existent. There really are a lot of very badly written websites out there.
Well, never mind. I shall spend the weekend in the company of Jack, Jim and Johnny, take in an F1 Grand Prix and get into some good books. Funnily enough, I am feeling quite chipper!
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
Miliband leaves a suicide note
You wonder about suicide notes. I have written a few in my head but I never get past the bit where you offer advice/excuses/reasons for the terminal action, to those nearest and dearest. In the end, you think the better of it and live.
Not so, Ed Milliband. He's not only written the note, he's had a lot of help writing it and it seems he cannot go back. I am talking about his announcements at this year's Labour conference. Now, conferences are not real events. They are as staged as the wrestling bouts between Kendo Nagasaki and Giant Haystacks used to be. But this one was different.
Milliband announced that, should Labour gain power at the next election, they will freeze energy bills for two years. It is not often that I read something and find that I am truly astonished. The immediate effect of this announcement caused shares in Centrica and others to go into meltdown. One Hundred Million pounds was wiped off their value and another firm saw a similar dip. On top of that, the energy firms are threatening to pull out of Britain altogether. That image, that seminal image of Neil Kinnock and the light bulb came into my mind. What were they thinking?
The utilities in this country, for the benefit of our colonial friends, are privately owned. It means that they operate in a free-market, at least as much as Brussels will let them. Whatever Milliband's strategy is called, it is in reality a return to a Command Economy.
Those who do not study their history are condemned to relive it. Command Economies do not work. It is not difficult to see the history or to take heed of it.
The reason that Labour's stance on this will fail is simple. Today's economic news should be a good signal, but in case anybody is in doubt, the politicians are not in charge. Business is in charge of this country. What do you think all those Bilderberg meetings are about? The economy of the Western World is more powerful than any individual country, including Germany. How else would you get the kind of madness, the dead parrot of the European Union, propping up Greece, Spain and Italy? They did it to save their own skin.
For all we know, Centrica could bundle Mr Miliband into the back of a Cessna Citation and fly him to Cuba, where he could simply disappear. They certainly have the money and the contacts. But no. Miliband has shot himself. The money and influence will start pouring in (if it already hasn't) to ensure that Labour does not gain the upper hand in 2015. It's not democratic, and neither is it in the spirit of democracy, but it is better than a return to the days of Stalin.
Not so, Ed Milliband. He's not only written the note, he's had a lot of help writing it and it seems he cannot go back. I am talking about his announcements at this year's Labour conference. Now, conferences are not real events. They are as staged as the wrestling bouts between Kendo Nagasaki and Giant Haystacks used to be. But this one was different.
The utilities in this country, for the benefit of our colonial friends, are privately owned. It means that they operate in a free-market, at least as much as Brussels will let them. Whatever Milliband's strategy is called, it is in reality a return to a Command Economy.
Those who do not study their history are condemned to relive it. Command Economies do not work. It is not difficult to see the history or to take heed of it.
The reason that Labour's stance on this will fail is simple. Today's economic news should be a good signal, but in case anybody is in doubt, the politicians are not in charge. Business is in charge of this country. What do you think all those Bilderberg meetings are about? The economy of the Western World is more powerful than any individual country, including Germany. How else would you get the kind of madness, the dead parrot of the European Union, propping up Greece, Spain and Italy? They did it to save their own skin.
For all we know, Centrica could bundle Mr Miliband into the back of a Cessna Citation and fly him to Cuba, where he could simply disappear. They certainly have the money and the contacts. But no. Miliband has shot himself. The money and influence will start pouring in (if it already hasn't) to ensure that Labour does not gain the upper hand in 2015. It's not democratic, and neither is it in the spirit of democracy, but it is better than a return to the days of Stalin.
Friday, 20 September 2013
A good day to bury bad news?
Biteback Publishing has launched the memoirs of Damien McBride and it is being serialised in The Daily Mail. I am sure the book is fascinating, but it will not tell us what we don't know already; that Labour spin doctors are evil lying bastards.
Nigel Farage has just given an address to the UKIP party conference that will be played over and over in years to come. There is nothing in it that he hasn't said before and he was sweating like a fish, but he dissected the dishonesty and the big lie at the heart of LibDem/Tory/Labour policy towards Europe with coruscating clarity; that is, the obvious fact that none of the above will give Britain a choice on Europe.
No politician smells of roses, Nigel included, but if the Damien McBride memoir does anything, it should reveal the profoundly vile state of mainstream politics.
No sane person can accept this way of governance. Nobody can excuse Gordon Brown for first ruining the country and second, employing a corps of myrmidons to do his dirty work.
I very much hope that Damien is yesterday's bad news.
Nigel Farage has just given an address to the UKIP party conference that will be played over and over in years to come. There is nothing in it that he hasn't said before and he was sweating like a fish, but he dissected the dishonesty and the big lie at the heart of LibDem/Tory/Labour policy towards Europe with coruscating clarity; that is, the obvious fact that none of the above will give Britain a choice on Europe.
No politician smells of roses, Nigel included, but if the Damien McBride memoir does anything, it should reveal the profoundly vile state of mainstream politics.
No sane person can accept this way of governance. Nobody can excuse Gordon Brown for first ruining the country and second, employing a corps of myrmidons to do his dirty work.
I very much hope that Damien is yesterday's bad news.
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
What's funny?
Mrs Weasel has bee giggling insanely in another room. Upon closer investigation this turned out to be the source of merriment:
http://terriblerealestateagentphotos.tumblr.com/
I don't laugh very often but this was an exception - tears, choking, giggling and involuntary evacuation of the bowels. The guy is a genius. I would contact him and ask to show a pic, but he's on something called tumblr (not a recreational party drug).
Very occasionally, there's more to the internet than cats and porn.
Time for a bit of personal anecdotal. I am not drinking. This is purely involuntary, down to me taking an antibiotic that carries dire warnings about mixing it with alcohol. It's all due to a wisdom tooth which I shall probably have removed on Thursday. Now, there has been a side-effect, and I am not sure if it is the lack of booze or the drug. I have been having really weird, graphic dreams. They are too strange to record here, but one of them involved going to see a show full of chorus boys and as we left the theatre, Mrs Weasel broke down in tears in the emergency stair well and confessed to having a "fancy grope". I awoke at that point so never got to hear the full confession, or indeed, a definition.
I have been toying with e-cigs. Last time I mentioned this the blog got spammed by people trying to flog them, so, if you are reading this Mr Spammer, just bugger off. The problem with e-cigs is not the experience but the paraphernalia. It all appears to be made in China and is consequently programmed to fall to pieces, leaving goo everywhere. If you are interested at all in the idea of e-cigs, it is best that you avoid watching demonstrations on YouTube because they all appear to have been recorded by people you will soon see on the news, along with a statement from the Mayor and the Chief of Police telling everyone to keep calm and lock their doors. The only person I have seen using them is me and frankly, I feel a bit self-conscious and liable to offer my services as a menacing henchman.
I still get amazed at the way garages up here refuse to spend my money. I have asked them to look at the air-con three times at three different places. "Cost too much - and anyway we are in Scotland. What would you be wanting it for?" The question always leaves me feeling guilty, guilty in particular of being a poofy Englishman who does not understand the value of fresh air and damp underpants.
http://terriblerealestateagentphotos.tumblr.com/
I don't laugh very often but this was an exception - tears, choking, giggling and involuntary evacuation of the bowels. The guy is a genius. I would contact him and ask to show a pic, but he's on something called tumblr (not a recreational party drug).
Very occasionally, there's more to the internet than cats and porn.
Time for a bit of personal anecdotal. I am not drinking. This is purely involuntary, down to me taking an antibiotic that carries dire warnings about mixing it with alcohol. It's all due to a wisdom tooth which I shall probably have removed on Thursday. Now, there has been a side-effect, and I am not sure if it is the lack of booze or the drug. I have been having really weird, graphic dreams. They are too strange to record here, but one of them involved going to see a show full of chorus boys and as we left the theatre, Mrs Weasel broke down in tears in the emergency stair well and confessed to having a "fancy grope". I awoke at that point so never got to hear the full confession, or indeed, a definition.
I have been toying with e-cigs. Last time I mentioned this the blog got spammed by people trying to flog them, so, if you are reading this Mr Spammer, just bugger off. The problem with e-cigs is not the experience but the paraphernalia. It all appears to be made in China and is consequently programmed to fall to pieces, leaving goo everywhere. If you are interested at all in the idea of e-cigs, it is best that you avoid watching demonstrations on YouTube because they all appear to have been recorded by people you will soon see on the news, along with a statement from the Mayor and the Chief of Police telling everyone to keep calm and lock their doors. The only person I have seen using them is me and frankly, I feel a bit self-conscious and liable to offer my services as a menacing henchman.
I still get amazed at the way garages up here refuse to spend my money. I have asked them to look at the air-con three times at three different places. "Cost too much - and anyway we are in Scotland. What would you be wanting it for?" The question always leaves me feeling guilty, guilty in particular of being a poofy Englishman who does not understand the value of fresh air and damp underpants.
Monday, 16 September 2013
Fear and Phobia in DC
I try not to do knee-jerk reaction posts. Having just learned of the shootings in Washington, however, it perhaps is ok to think about the wider implications of such events.
Let's deal with some of the patellar reflex material.
Always there is a debate about gun control, whether or not citizens have the right to bear arms. There is no real answer to this because, if you live in Switzerland it is compulsory and if you live in the United Kingdom it is illegal. Even the continent of Europe is at odds with itself. The American model goes back to England also, where at various times, it was illegal, or a right or a duty. Nobody seems to be able to make their minds up about it and it seems down to whoever wields the most power and influence. In the case of the US, it is currently, as I understand it, the National Rifle Association.
In other words, any debate about gun control, borne out of tragedies like this is somewhat pointless. What is required is a global mindset and an understanding of the relationship between the state and the individual. If you take away the right of self-defence you must put a safety net in place. One that works.
The second knee jerk reaction is to the usual suspects. It became clear that the Boston bombings were done under the umbrella of Islam. The fugitive Tsarnaev scrawled on the bloodied boat where he made his last stand,
As yet the information on the identity of the Washington attackers is scant. One is described as white, another black. They were apparently dressed in para-military garb.
Again, the knee-jerk reaction, of making connections which currently do not exist, does not really address the long term effect of American foreign or domestic policy, it merely provides ammunition for people who look, in these terrible times, for scapegoats.
The third kind of knee jerk reaction is perhaps a personal one. People get scared. As I write this a considerable sector of the Capitol is in lock-down. The disruption is incalculable. People have been advised to stay in their homes and lock their doors. All that can really be said of this is that the actual risk of coming face to face with one of the perpetrators in a city of about 600,000 is minimal and the risk as such is rather less than being shot in a regular hold-up in DC.
So how should people react? Whenever there is a multiple killing, whether it is a dozen or thousands, the reaction is I think, down to a societal feeling that they have been corporately and jointly assaulted. Essentially, apart from the friends and families of the bereaved, these events are an assault on values and perceptions we have. They are an assault on our imaginary sense of well-being.
Let's deal with some of the patellar reflex material.
Always there is a debate about gun control, whether or not citizens have the right to bear arms. There is no real answer to this because, if you live in Switzerland it is compulsory and if you live in the United Kingdom it is illegal. Even the continent of Europe is at odds with itself. The American model goes back to England also, where at various times, it was illegal, or a right or a duty. Nobody seems to be able to make their minds up about it and it seems down to whoever wields the most power and influence. In the case of the US, it is currently, as I understand it, the National Rifle Association.
In other words, any debate about gun control, borne out of tragedies like this is somewhat pointless. What is required is a global mindset and an understanding of the relationship between the state and the individual. If you take away the right of self-defence you must put a safety net in place. One that works.
The second knee jerk reaction is to the usual suspects. It became clear that the Boston bombings were done under the umbrella of Islam. The fugitive Tsarnaev scrawled on the bloodied boat where he made his last stand,
“We Muslims are one body, you hurt one you hurt us all” and “Now I don’t like killing innocent people it is forbidden in Islam but due to said [unintelligible] it is allowed,”
As yet the information on the identity of the Washington attackers is scant. One is described as white, another black. They were apparently dressed in para-military garb.
Again, the knee-jerk reaction, of making connections which currently do not exist, does not really address the long term effect of American foreign or domestic policy, it merely provides ammunition for people who look, in these terrible times, for scapegoats.
The third kind of knee jerk reaction is perhaps a personal one. People get scared. As I write this a considerable sector of the Capitol is in lock-down. The disruption is incalculable. People have been advised to stay in their homes and lock their doors. All that can really be said of this is that the actual risk of coming face to face with one of the perpetrators in a city of about 600,000 is minimal and the risk as such is rather less than being shot in a regular hold-up in DC.
So how should people react? Whenever there is a multiple killing, whether it is a dozen or thousands, the reaction is I think, down to a societal feeling that they have been corporately and jointly assaulted. Essentially, apart from the friends and families of the bereaved, these events are an assault on values and perceptions we have. They are an assault on our imaginary sense of well-being.
Saturday, 14 September 2013
John Bellany - As I knew him
On Wednesday, 28th September, 2013, John Bellany, the Scottish artist died "clutching a paintbrush as he took his final breath." (You can read the rest in The Scotsman)
The BBC showed a documentary, directed by one of his own sons. It is well worth watching, but it gives little away about the nature of his work and just tantalizing glimpses into his methods. Bellany said, "If a painting must have anything, it must have intensity". Certainly, if you know his work, you can see the proof of this. The caveat is that there is probably not one painting of his that I could ever bear to have on my wall.
There may of course be another reason why I am not, let's say, sympathetic to his work.
I knew John Bellany. He was my personal tutor at art college in 1972/3. During term time I would see him more or less every day and more or less every day he would arrive very late, drunk and disorderly. If we were lucky, he would simply disappear with a bottle into his tiny office and we could get on with painting. But occasionally he would give us the benefit of his drunken rage. He once lifted me against a wall and threatened to beat me up. I learnt nothing from the man, partly because I was still in my teens and not that teachable, but mainly because he was unable or unwilling or both to share any of his talent with us. He was a violent yob and his contribution to the education of young artists, at least during that period, was to primarily de-motivate and distress. By his own admission, he was a bastard.
I find it personally sickening that someone who spent most of his life making the lives of others a misery (see what his family have said on record) that there should now be an outpouring of sentimentality about him now that he is dead.
As strange as it is sometimes in life, decades later I moved to Scotland to live, about five miles from Bellany's hometown of Port Seton. On the occasional visit there the memories would come flowing back, of a young man, quite confused and at sea emotionally, being abused by an arrogant, violent drunkard.
I did not complete my course at Art College and left after a year. My life up to that point had been damaged by my father, also a violent drunken alcoholic. He had long gone, but those days in the art room were no different. Only the actors had changed, not the characters. It was too much for me to bear.
Bellany leaves a legacy of work that is prolific, intense and individual, but it will never atone for the people whose lives he damaged and whose hopes he destroyed.
The BBC showed a documentary, directed by one of his own sons. It is well worth watching, but it gives little away about the nature of his work and just tantalizing glimpses into his methods. Bellany said, "If a painting must have anything, it must have intensity". Certainly, if you know his work, you can see the proof of this. The caveat is that there is probably not one painting of his that I could ever bear to have on my wall.
There may of course be another reason why I am not, let's say, sympathetic to his work.
I knew John Bellany. He was my personal tutor at art college in 1972/3. During term time I would see him more or less every day and more or less every day he would arrive very late, drunk and disorderly. If we were lucky, he would simply disappear with a bottle into his tiny office and we could get on with painting. But occasionally he would give us the benefit of his drunken rage. He once lifted me against a wall and threatened to beat me up. I learnt nothing from the man, partly because I was still in my teens and not that teachable, but mainly because he was unable or unwilling or both to share any of his talent with us. He was a violent yob and his contribution to the education of young artists, at least during that period, was to primarily de-motivate and distress. By his own admission, he was a bastard.
I find it personally sickening that someone who spent most of his life making the lives of others a misery (see what his family have said on record) that there should now be an outpouring of sentimentality about him now that he is dead.
As strange as it is sometimes in life, decades later I moved to Scotland to live, about five miles from Bellany's hometown of Port Seton. On the occasional visit there the memories would come flowing back, of a young man, quite confused and at sea emotionally, being abused by an arrogant, violent drunkard.
I did not complete my course at Art College and left after a year. My life up to that point had been damaged by my father, also a violent drunken alcoholic. He had long gone, but those days in the art room were no different. Only the actors had changed, not the characters. It was too much for me to bear.
Bellany leaves a legacy of work that is prolific, intense and individual, but it will never atone for the people whose lives he damaged and whose hopes he destroyed.
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
"Human Rights".. the new name for "I'm Taking the Piss"
They did it with Marathon bars
They did it with Opel Fruits
The even did it with Mr Dog.
And now..
"Human Rights"..the new name for "I'm taking the piss".
The lefty darlings have been at it this week with a vengeance. The lovely Shami Chakrabarti, Paul Mason and a few others, this week writing about "Human Rights".
Shami is celebrating 60 years of the European Convention on Human Rights - she opines,
Yes, and it has given us Abu Qatada, Somali rapists who get to stay, murderers being given a vote, and traveling people who appear to circumvent our planning laws at will, among a lot of other travesties of this law. As for arbitrary government, all government is arbitrary, especially that which emanates from an unelected body such as the European Commission.
Paul Mason is crying real tears about Sub-Saharan Africans, self-confessed economic migrants who are roughed up a bit when they arrive in Morocco. He tells us the EU are ignoring human rights of illegal migrants. Well, Paul, the clue is in the word, "illegal".
My comment on the thread, in the Guardian (surprise) was as follows, and like most of the comments, they were not sympathetic:
It currently shows 198 "recommends" and tends to sum up the feelings of the majority.
So even Guardian readers can see the absurdity of it. Mason is of course a senior BBC journalist and a screaming lefty. He accused commenters on the thread of reacting "viscerally and emotionally". I would react viscerally and emotionally to illegal, dirty, ignorant and potentially violent people living on my doorstep. The irony is, I could do nothing to remove them. It's their human right to make my life a misery.
People like this are playing the human rights thing like a Stradivarius. It's Human Rights, the new name for "I'm taking the piss".
There is a subtext to this rant, and I believe a very important one. There is a new feeling about, a feeling that is ditching political correctness and getting real about the abuses brought about by a woolly, left-leaning liberal elite. The concept of PC is dying. The new Zeitgeist is a slow burning fuse that will ignite reaction and revolution, albeit a probably a democratic one. Syria is perhaps a paradigm. A massive majority of the people of this country did not want involvement in a country of whom we don't understand, nor do we wish to accommodate its culture. We are not the world's policemen. It is clear to me that Syria is about maintaining trade balances; something that is of major benefit to the EU and the rest of the global elite. It is certainly not instinctively humanitarian, because it is arbitrary and opportunistic in a world where there are too many injustices to fight.
I am beginning to see a backlash. It is the voice of the ordinary people who are no longer fooled by leaders who exist to lie and deceive. I see that even the BBC is holed below the waterline and cannot continue to make a case for its funding, based upon extortion and menaces.
I see the likes of Paul Mason becoming objects of ridicule in decades to come, their redundant Marxist ramblings a mere dot in history.
We did not need a convention on human rights to understand what is right and wrong. It is only because those who hold sway have decided there is no right and wrong and no absolute truth that we have had years of arbitrary and contradictory messages from them. In the end, they will dissolve in a puff of their own warped logic. And it will have been a long time coming.
They did it with Opel Fruits
The even did it with Mr Dog.
And now..
"Human Rights"..the new name for "I'm taking the piss".
The lefty darlings have been at it this week with a vengeance. The lovely Shami Chakrabarti, Paul Mason and a few others, this week writing about "Human Rights".
Shami is celebrating 60 years of the European Convention on Human Rights - she opines,
it has proved an essential check on oppressive and arbitrary government throughout Europe. In Britain it's given us our very own bill of rights – the Human Rights Act.
Yes, and it has given us Abu Qatada, Somali rapists who get to stay, murderers being given a vote, and traveling people who appear to circumvent our planning laws at will, among a lot of other travesties of this law. As for arbitrary government, all government is arbitrary, especially that which emanates from an unelected body such as the European Commission.
Paul Mason is crying real tears about Sub-Saharan Africans, self-confessed economic migrants who are roughed up a bit when they arrive in Morocco. He tells us the EU are ignoring human rights of illegal migrants. Well, Paul, the clue is in the word, "illegal".
My comment on the thread, in the Guardian (surprise) was as follows, and like most of the comments, they were not sympathetic:
Most of these people do not belong in Europe. They neither understand our culture, nor do they wish to accommodate our culture. Already, immigration is causing mayhem in places like Boston in Lincolnshire and that's just the ones who the EU force us to have.
This kind of migration is made illegal to protect our way of life. That is OUR human right.
It currently shows 198 "recommends" and tends to sum up the feelings of the majority.
So even Guardian readers can see the absurdity of it. Mason is of course a senior BBC journalist and a screaming lefty. He accused commenters on the thread of reacting "viscerally and emotionally". I would react viscerally and emotionally to illegal, dirty, ignorant and potentially violent people living on my doorstep. The irony is, I could do nothing to remove them. It's their human right to make my life a misery.
People like this are playing the human rights thing like a Stradivarius. It's Human Rights, the new name for "I'm taking the piss".
There is a subtext to this rant, and I believe a very important one. There is a new feeling about, a feeling that is ditching political correctness and getting real about the abuses brought about by a woolly, left-leaning liberal elite. The concept of PC is dying. The new Zeitgeist is a slow burning fuse that will ignite reaction and revolution, albeit a probably a democratic one. Syria is perhaps a paradigm. A massive majority of the people of this country did not want involvement in a country of whom we don't understand, nor do we wish to accommodate its culture. We are not the world's policemen. It is clear to me that Syria is about maintaining trade balances; something that is of major benefit to the EU and the rest of the global elite. It is certainly not instinctively humanitarian, because it is arbitrary and opportunistic in a world where there are too many injustices to fight.
I am beginning to see a backlash. It is the voice of the ordinary people who are no longer fooled by leaders who exist to lie and deceive. I see that even the BBC is holed below the waterline and cannot continue to make a case for its funding, based upon extortion and menaces.
I see the likes of Paul Mason becoming objects of ridicule in decades to come, their redundant Marxist ramblings a mere dot in history.
We did not need a convention on human rights to understand what is right and wrong. It is only because those who hold sway have decided there is no right and wrong and no absolute truth that we have had years of arbitrary and contradictory messages from them. In the end, they will dissolve in a puff of their own warped logic. And it will have been a long time coming.
Thursday, 29 August 2013
Syria vote: nobody's a winner
Nobody "won" the Commons vote tonight. The killing will continue, and would have continued if the result had been different. But their have been some surprise victories.
Even a dwarf fares better on the shoulders of giants. That is Ed Miliband. Tonight, with Milliband leading the vote to head off intervention in Syria, he has joined the ranks of those whose moment in history will be remembered for some time.
Don't get me wrong, hitherto I had no impression of him. As Churchill once said; "An empty cab pulled up in Downing Street, and Clement Attlee got out of it. You might have said the same of Ed Milliband.
One other person should get the thanks for the vote against war. Tony Blair - the legacy of Iraq just keeps on giving.
As for the United States of America..
Some of us sniggered a bit when Obama was hailed as the Messiah, on his election.
Even a dwarf fares better on the shoulders of giants. That is Ed Miliband. Tonight, with Milliband leading the vote to head off intervention in Syria, he has joined the ranks of those whose moment in history will be remembered for some time.
Don't get me wrong, hitherto I had no impression of him. As Churchill once said; "An empty cab pulled up in Downing Street, and Clement Attlee got out of it. You might have said the same of Ed Milliband.
One other person should get the thanks for the vote against war. Tony Blair - the legacy of Iraq just keeps on giving.
As for the United States of America..
Some of us sniggered a bit when Obama was hailed as the Messiah, on his election.
The BBC's John Simpson cooed,
So all in all, perhaps we can sleep a little easier tonight, but it is of little comfort to the many Syrians are going to suffer and die.
The United States has seen the biggest transformation in its standing in the world since the election of John Fitzgerald Kennedy in November 1960..But there are times when it (the hype) is entirely true. With Barack Obama's victory, one of these moments has arrived. As an African-American (literally, since his father was from Kenya) his background is not one of privilege and superiority. He will be open to the world in a way President Bush never was. And he will show once again the value of the American dream. In the rush to war in 2003, when many American politicians were frightened to stand out against the crowd, Barack Obama condemned the invasion loudly and publicly.Yes, and there is a Santa Claus after all. And the BBC are just as complicit in this obscene deception as the politicians.
The fact that he has been elected president is his reward for that. And everyone around the world who felt that the Iraq war was wrong will feel that America has now chosen a different path - a path that leads away from extraordinary rendition, Guantanamo, Abu Ghraib, waterboarding and all the rest of it.
So all in all, perhaps we can sleep a little easier tonight, but it is of little comfort to the many Syrians are going to suffer and die.
Monday, 26 August 2013
Interlude
I am taking a break from blogging for a bit. Real life has overtaken me, such as gardening and other people. It's actually all pleasant stuff, but it needs attention.
Trawling through the news and comments in the MSM, I am depressed by the level of the debate. I like to think I am even-handed, but the Guardian comments are perhaps the most rabid and bigoted of the lot. Most of the commenters are sheep-like in their ever-decreasing race to be the most right-on and most hate-filled and nihilistic. The Telegraph is barely better and the Mail, well, just does not bear thinking about.
We seem to be on the brink of another war, so I shall stick to the gardening and wait a bit until things become a little clearer.
best wishes
WW
Trawling through the news and comments in the MSM, I am depressed by the level of the debate. I like to think I am even-handed, but the Guardian comments are perhaps the most rabid and bigoted of the lot. Most of the commenters are sheep-like in their ever-decreasing race to be the most right-on and most hate-filled and nihilistic. The Telegraph is barely better and the Mail, well, just does not bear thinking about.
We seem to be on the brink of another war, so I shall stick to the gardening and wait a bit until things become a little clearer.
best wishes
WW
Friday, 16 August 2013
Weasel's Weekend World
There is a post-script to my post below about the Western Isles and it is about the people. There is an inner strength and a lack of fear about them that is both fascinating and difficult to pin down. I suppose it is born out of generations whose main preoccupation was staying alive. We were walking in a small village and came across some stray chickens. Being keen chicken fans and having spent ten year's keeping the little dears, we investigated further and discovered a little lad of about 8 or so who seemed intent on rounding them up. "Would you like to stroke one of them?" he asked us. With that, he picked on up and gave it a cuddle.
The mantle of anonymity is something that cyberspace must come to terms with. I am quite shocked at the excess it encourages, usually along the lines of some pretty disgusting comments. I don't suppose I am the only one who is shocked by the rotten core of our fellow humans who seem to think that it is ok to threaten violence and scatter obscenities.
I have been blogging for almost a decade and I can say that I have tried to ensure that I have the courage of my comments. I cannot think of any post where I was not prepared to back it up with facts or in person. Sure, I have expressed my opinions, and often forcefully. I have also said things that, upon reflection, were best left unsaid, but I was lucky because I was a trained journalist and the habit of fact-checking and a nod to the libel laws, not to mention a distaste for verbal abuse have helped me to do what I do without hurting people. Oddly enough, one of my favourite blogs was The Devil's Kitchen. It no longer exists now, but it was probably the swearyist blog in the Universe, full of vitriol, piss and vinegar. But it made a kind of point in a way which never offended me or anybody reasonably thick skin. The point of it was to vent spleen in a very targeted and clever way. It never descended to nihilism. Its author probably got tired of it, but also, as I recall, realised that he was too well known in real life and had to either tone it down or pack it in. He was not really the personification of the Devil, more a kind of Malcolm Tucker, a modern Thersites. He is missed.
Gibralter interests me. It is one of those issues which always brings out people who pick a point in time, any point in time, and try to justify their arguments by claiming that that point in time is the one by which the current problem should be viewed. The flaws are obvious; perhaps we should claim compensation from the Roman Empire because they scarred our landscape with unwanted building projects that we now have to maintain at tax-payer's expense. I would shut up about it if I got a Lamborghini Aventador and a villa in Capri by way of reparations.
We have been told recently to get used to decades of blistering heat-wave summers. The blistering heat wave summer up here lasted under two weeks and the thermometer never went above 25c. I can barely get out to mow the lawn between showers.
Nigel Farage, feared by the bad, loved by the good..(Oh sorry, that's Robin Hood). He is the man with a pint and a fag. Cameron and Eggy Milliband have a lot to learn from him. After all, who of the three can you most identify as an actual human?
Album of the week: Bakerloo, the eponymous. An often overlooked piece that came out on Harvest at the tail-end of the Sixties. This Worried Feeling is a Blues gem.
The mantle of anonymity is something that cyberspace must come to terms with. I am quite shocked at the excess it encourages, usually along the lines of some pretty disgusting comments. I don't suppose I am the only one who is shocked by the rotten core of our fellow humans who seem to think that it is ok to threaten violence and scatter obscenities.
I have been blogging for almost a decade and I can say that I have tried to ensure that I have the courage of my comments. I cannot think of any post where I was not prepared to back it up with facts or in person. Sure, I have expressed my opinions, and often forcefully. I have also said things that, upon reflection, were best left unsaid, but I was lucky because I was a trained journalist and the habit of fact-checking and a nod to the libel laws, not to mention a distaste for verbal abuse have helped me to do what I do without hurting people. Oddly enough, one of my favourite blogs was The Devil's Kitchen. It no longer exists now, but it was probably the swearyist blog in the Universe, full of vitriol, piss and vinegar. But it made a kind of point in a way which never offended me or anybody reasonably thick skin. The point of it was to vent spleen in a very targeted and clever way. It never descended to nihilism. Its author probably got tired of it, but also, as I recall, realised that he was too well known in real life and had to either tone it down or pack it in. He was not really the personification of the Devil, more a kind of Malcolm Tucker, a modern Thersites. He is missed.
Gibralter interests me. It is one of those issues which always brings out people who pick a point in time, any point in time, and try to justify their arguments by claiming that that point in time is the one by which the current problem should be viewed. The flaws are obvious; perhaps we should claim compensation from the Roman Empire because they scarred our landscape with unwanted building projects that we now have to maintain at tax-payer's expense. I would shut up about it if I got a Lamborghini Aventador and a villa in Capri by way of reparations.
We have been told recently to get used to decades of blistering heat-wave summers. The blistering heat wave summer up here lasted under two weeks and the thermometer never went above 25c. I can barely get out to mow the lawn between showers.
Nigel Farage, feared by the bad, loved by the good..(Oh sorry, that's Robin Hood). He is the man with a pint and a fag. Cameron and Eggy Milliband have a lot to learn from him. After all, who of the three can you most identify as an actual human?
Album of the week: Bakerloo, the eponymous. An often overlooked piece that came out on Harvest at the tail-end of the Sixties. This Worried Feeling is a Blues gem.
Monday, 12 August 2013
Life on the edge of nowhere
I have just come back from the Outer Hebrides - the Western Isles if you will.
It's a terrible place; wind and rain scour what's left of the vegetation from the ugly rock. Dead cars, dead houses and dead dishwashers line the roads, as if Armageddon had come last week. It's a tree-less tundra, sodden with peat and moss. The roads don't often run to two lanes. Instead, there is a series of passing places, sometimes a dozen or so in a half-mile stretch. (Why don't they just build two lanes?)
When someone leaves a house on Uist, they don't knock it down, but they were so badly built that a few years of neglect ensures their descent back to the rubble from which they came. Some got electricity in the 1970s. Some residents had running water, too. They made their own fun until television came along and until then the custom was to have visitors from day to day who would sit and talk the hours away. That doesn't happen anymore, according to one man of my age who was born there.
Nothing extraneous can be seen. It is devoid of visual culture, a testament to the (until recently) subsistence living. Townies from London sometimes move there and decide to paint and make sculptures. The results are mostly very good renditions of not a lot.
When the sun shines, which it did on one day of our week, it is possible to be lost on a three-mile beach of white sand, gently nudged by a turquoise sea. Stuck in the dunes, about half way up on one such beach, there was a rusting Citroen 2CV.
The people, as you might imagine, are insular and obsessed with what each other are doing. An incomer does not really stand a chance. The standard type of entertainment is drinking at home (The few pubs are devoid of all but the most unsavoury locals), gossiping and watching TV. On the latter, I was told that it goes on for breakfast and stays on, all day, until bedtime. Few do any gardening for, there are no gardens. Homes stand as if stuck like houses on a monopoly board, clinging to the rocks for dear life. Most range from functional to just ugly.
There is a kind of myth that some communities close the swings on Sunday. Well. some shops close and the churches seem to be stuck in the 19th century and a care nurse we met told us that she was advised against cutting an old man's fingernails on a Sunday, since it was non-essential. We saw washing out on a Sunday. Curiously it appeared to be a mixed weekly bag of two towels, two pairs of knickers and some shirts. Washing goes on the line in all weathers and stays there until it dries. Perhaps only the prostitutes put their washing out on Sundays as a kind of signal - short skirts, co-ordinating clothes and make up seem to be out of the question.
A word about food. It is over-priced, but some of it is very good. If you want beef that actually tastes like beef, or crab claws that taste of the sea, there is no better place in the UK. But on the whole the Western Isles don't really get tourism. It is no place for sophisticated tastes or dependence on modern technology. Sure, you can get TV and the internet, and a phone signal, but not always.
Why did I go? To see for myself and to have a change. I'm curious. I am also spoiled; I am used to things like planning permissions and garbage regulations and Marks and Spencer and soft toilet wipes. Suddenly finding myself on an island that resembled a social housing project was a shock.
If, however, you truly want to be alone, to shun civilisation give up most of its comforts and culture and become one with the Universe, the Earth and Donovan, then The Outer Hebrides is for you. But don't forget; it rains most of the time and most of your meditations will be soggy ones.
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