Main menu:
Journal Items - General:
No further postings will be added to this page.
The Great Media Swindle.
31 January 2008 .
"Last year, we described how mainstream climate sceptics had queued up to praise film-maker Martin Durkin’s now infamous documentary, The Great Global Warming Swindle. The Daily Mail, the Daily Telegraph, and their counterparts in the United States, used the film to heap scorn on the scientific consensus that climate change is a grave and rapidly evolving threat. In the event, the film itself turned out to be a swindle, one denounced by climate scientists far and wide - its media supporters quietly moved on."
This is actually the introductory paragraph of an item about the 'disputed' mortality rates in Iraq, about how the media (and bloggers) deny scientific evidence by denigrating it (from www.medialens.org). It was the final phrase that caught my eye - the reminder of how the media will sometimes walk away from their responsibilities. But to whom else do we turn for what we need to know in order to maintain control over our own lives and those of our children?
Personal Political Broadcast on behalf of Mr. Obama.
31 January 2008 .
Despite some of what I write, I don't mean this site to be about party politics, nor about political persons. For once, however, I'll consciously break my own rule.
I hope that Mr. Obama will make it to the White House. A black president: wouldn't that be something? And wouldn't it be something for Kenya, too? Apart from the fact that he seems like a decent guy.
I would probably go Clinton, too... except that a) Thatcher has given me the terrible suspicion that male dominated politics may mean that any woman who gets to the top (at least for now) has to have just too much testosterone; b) Ma Clinton may be too tainted by Hubby - or alternatively, her victory might be attributed to him; c) the presidency is too important to be allowed to fall into the hands of a few dynastic families, which has at times seemed to be a risk; d) those tears: they may have worked on Americans, who are rather sweet that way, but I remember the time Mrs. T. cried in public... for herself.
Imagine President Huckabee! ('Scuse spelling if I've got it wrong.) Mind you, imagine President Dubya, and weep.
I ought to apologise for this gratuitous reference to Mr. Bush: I actually don't mean to cause offence: but, an examination of this site may show that I regard the 2003 invasion Iraq as not just illegal, immoral and murderous, but also as ineffably stupid; and it may also show that I regard the rape of our planet as a great and present danger. Under the circumstances, and given Mr. Bush's views, I hope that our... estrangement... is understandable.
Added 01 Feb: I'm a coward. I actually find the Clinton team quite poisonous, but I couldn't pin down my reasons while I was writing this item, so I didn't say so. [I was going to rewrite it, but I think the point of the site for me is lost of I keep editing myself.] I still can't remember why I was less than keen on Hubby Clinton's time in office beyond his baleful influence on new labour - and to be fair, since I'm not American, should I have to? But as I drifted off last night I remembered what I've been hearing recently, that the Clintons, having promised a clean campaign (when they looked like winning?) have been getting dirtier and dirtier. A bit of checking on the net seems to suggest that I hadn't heard the half of it: the Clintons are up to their neck in character assassination ('Obama was a drug dealer' - that one took a lot of effort to check, but it's clearly untrue; 'Isn't it wonderful that Obama was educated in a Madrassa' - a Judas kiss if ever there was one; 'In practice in Chicago, Obama worked with a slum landlord' - true, for less than a day, on a charity do!).
The one about Obama being a bit young and inexperienced may actually be valid, except that old and experienced in the US right now is less than attractive.
So I go Obama.
Added 05 Feb: The Times claims that the links between Obama and the slum landlord are closer than I'd thought. Like everyone else, I'll have to see where this one goes; but, once again, who to believe?
Feedback Frenzy...
31 January 2008 .
The first feedback from this site in my in-tray! Excitement! Caloo Calay! Two little notes of encouragement which were a tonic, one including a piece of constructive criticism - something I could see immediately it was pointed out, that the layout of the site might be a bit confusing (I'll try to work on that this very moment), for which thanks to pds.
Not quite such sincere thanks to Arkadiy, who thinks my site is "crap". Why? Because it sees things through different eyes? Because it doesn't have games you can play? Because it isn't a porn site? You may, my dear Arkadiy, be completely right; but if you're going to devastate somebody (and, while I wasn't sure why, your note was devastating for a short time), you should say why. Or did you just find it boring - which would be fair enough, but in which case why bother to comment at all? No reference on this site will again be made to any feedback employing expletive or abuse (except, maybe, to name and shame). On the other hand, I promise to give space here to report faithfully on feedback which disputes or refutes things I write. [Now, there's a hostage to fortune... What if I never get any more feedback?]
Perhaps I should send Arkadiy a challenge: a) e-mail his reasons, or b) e-mail his website address so that I can see a master at work.
I've only handed this address to four people so far; all this excitement before I've even started trying to find out how to get my website noticed. Where will it all end?
US and Japanese Cultural Imperialism.
29 January 2008 .
One day I'll work out how to get the Pounds Sterling symbol, keyed on this UK laptop, to appear correctly on a UK website. Funnily enough, I have no problems with the special symbols for the Dollar and the Yen.
Conspiracy is all around us.
For now, I'll have make do with 'L'.
Rape.
26 January 2008 .
I've been watching an adequate film of the 'true movie' type, 'When He's Not A Stranger', about an attractive college girl raped by a jock. Almost nobody believes her, the jock's mates falsely claim that she was promiscuous and has slept with all of them (liars make a liar of her); coach points out that the jock is important to the school and a money earner and that he (coach) will destroy her career if she 'hurts one of my boys', principal warns that she can hardly expect a good reference when she leaves college if she pursues the matter and at first even her parents reserve their anger for their daughter ahead of the rapist. At the college's internal disciplinary hearing, all the wrong questions are asked, and it is taken as definitive proof that the girl wasn't raped when she admitted that she took three days before she summoned up the courage to tell anyone what had happened.
When I was 23, I met a young woman travelling in Europe on the ferry back to England; I invited her to come to stay at my flat in London. [Her visit didn't start well: although she had all her papers, Customs treated her appallingly; but that's another story.] I have to admit that I hoped something sexual might come of it but, to my (later) relief, I was reasonably courteous and not too pressing, and I hope and believe that she had a reasonable rest in London.
On the first day I home, my heart rather sank: she was very good-looking but she came across - frankly - as thick. It was only after a few days, as I began to realise that she wasn't at all thick but, on the contrary, clearly unhappy, that I began (as delicately as I could) to try to sound her out. I won't go into the details of how we got there, but she told me she's been raped, in Germany a couple of days before we met.
I had hardly heard of rape - it was a different world then, it wasn't a subject that people talked about, and I only knew of other person who'd been sexually assaulted, and that had left me very confused. (Sadly, I have come across women and men who've been raped or abused since then; I think I shall be slightly shell-shocked to the end of my days.). To my regret, I had no idea what to say or do. Once again, no details, this time because I would be seen in a rather unflattering light.
When she finally returned to her home country, my friend wrote me a very sweet letter. Because I knew I hadn't helped her as I should (which might, after all, have consisted of simply being her host and making sure she had space), I found it one of the most shaming moments of my life and, for one of the few times in my adult life, I couldn't contain my tears. I was too ashamed to reply to her letter, and have always since wished that I had.
I've always remembered her, and to this day I still regret that I was such a clutz. I'm glad, however, that it never occurred to me to disbelieve her, or to 'wonder what she had done to deserve it'.
If I could have that time over again, I would make her a cup of tea, or similar, and asap I would ask for more experienced help. Mind you, in those days, I'm sure that there would have been any.
What's this to do with the rest of the website?
Rapists seem to be driven by a sort a 'monkey want, monkey take' instinct (if that's the right word); it's reasonable to suppose that they are people (usually though not always males) whose moral and empathetic growth have somehow failed. The longer I've been around, the more I've come to believe that it's this same simian instinct which manifests itself, inter alia, in power-seeking and in exploitation of people (or the planet) - which are really forms of rape, after all.
And with all the monkeys there are, I still wish there were someone more experienced to whom I could turn for advice; and there still doesn't seem to be anyone: so I've got to do what I can myself - and this time I want to do it right.
Sometimes I wonder if it's actually the human race which is the plague that this site's about. (Plenty of other species must think so.)
Keyboard Man Strikes Again:
26 January 2008 .
Another pithy gem, for a new day, again with a touch of the biblical:
There's a special place in Purgatory for people who choose not to see.
It's not some recent personal experience that has suddenly put me in this gnomish mood, although both thoughts (this and yesterday's) came to mind because of horror stories recounted to me by friends. But, like a fundamentalist, evangelical Christian or Muslim (or communist), I do believe that I've seen the light, albeit environmentally and politically rather than of religion (No... not the light, a light - and probably only a small part even of that); I'm with them in their frustration when they feel that there are none so blind as will not see.
Of course, I'm right.
(Like the fundamentalists, I have a devil; but at least he's more fun than bush, blair or satan. He's called Jeremy Clarkson.)
A Philosophical Gem from the keyboard of a Master.
25 January 2008 .
Since it's my website, I feel that I've an obligation to be profound, once in a while. So, I'd like to offer this thought for the day in connection with the Ninth Commandment:
Liars make liars of us all.
The next time that some bureaucrat at the Passport Office, or anywhere else, won't accept a perfectly straightforward statement from you without checking it three ways from Thursday, don't be too hard on them; their scepticism is probably all too based on experience.
I think it's rather pithy!
Englishness and Britishness.
22 January 2008 .
The words 'English' or 'Scottish' have their connotations, some of which aren't very positive; but the words carry a sense of life and meaning. I feel European, but I have no argument with being called English. However, I've never liked the word 'British', and I certainly don't think of myself as British.
'British' is a leaden word, uninspiring, offering no sense of belonging. People gave their lives for England or Scotland; not so much, I suspect, for Britain. Even though 'Britain' is the older word, it is redolent at one end of British Restaurants - possibly welcome in a time of rationing, but definitely of that time - and at the other of the British Empire, that Hanoverian successor (to Merry England) which did little for the English at home except let them die in faraway places, and did less for those faraway places.
Although aware of a different emotional response to the words, I never particularly bothered myself with the 'why?'. But, this evening, it's occurred to me that I do suspect what the reason is: 'British' is a political word, a government construct, a word of Kings called George and a Queen called Victoria (and that's an interesting name, too...), of (English, but political) redcoats and control. 1984 was always a Britain of the future, rather than an England. England, or Wales or Scotland, can be home, Britain can't. Jerusalem won't be built in Britain.
And now with The Great Leader And Helmsman batting on about 'Britishness', I'm certain of it.
In passing, I suggest to any immigrant that you have really arrived when you feel English, Welsh or Scottish, rather than British.
One feeds on slime, the other's a fish.
21 January 2008 .
The Captain of the BA Boeing 777 which hard-landed at Heathrow was being lauded as a hero at the end of last week - quite rightly, even (especially) though he gave the credit to his co-pilot.
I read today that yesterday a Sunday paper (unnamed) printed twenty year-old photographs of this man at a 'sex-fest'. He wasn't married (not that it's any of our business whether he was or not), he didn't work for BA then, and it has absolutely nothing to do with last week's events.
Did I say the marketing men were bottom-feeders? They share the slime with the scandal-sheets.
Good on BA for choosing to regard the photos as irrelevant. But if the papers so hopeless, who do we look to, to watch the men of power?
Return to Current Journal
Go to Previous Journal (05 Jan 08 - 20 Jan 08)