The light mist is shrouding the scene,
The chain saws are felling the birch trees,
Crashing cars softly careen.
Inaudible workmen are bellowing,
My neighbour is playing power drill,
Toddlers are screeching at mothers,
Cacophany and lightning are shrill.
Oh what I'd give for some silence,
For the transports on wet roads to cease,
For one moment to savour this weather,
Alas - noise is the city's disease.
Question 1: What is the Honourable Hazel Blear's nickname?a. Chipmunk
b. Mipchunk
c. Chimpunk
d. Pimchunk
Question 2: Would she have sold her soul for the Deputyship?
a. No
b. She has no ambitions in that direction
c. She loved Tony too much
d. Yes
Question 3: How tall is Hazel?
a. 4' 7"
b. 4' 11"
c. 5' 9"
d. 3' 6"
Call me an arrogant mother but I detest popular "debate" because inevitably it is about anything but debate. Similarly, I simply refuse to "prove" something to somebody because:1] to have to do so means he's not some fellow traveller on the same path to learning in the first place but someone with a contrary view, with his own agenda and therefore will automatically poo-poo whatever is said or else attach cliched labels to it.
2] he will inevitably say "give me hard proof", without realizing what it is he asks and applying strictures to the way the conclusions must be reached without applying the same draconian rules to himself.
For example, an atheist a year ago on another site said "how hilarious" when someone else put forth a Christian point of view. A three day "argument" ensued which was no argument at all.
He simply said that there was clearly no G-d and that the other would have to prove it to his satisfaction for there to be one. Where does one even start with a blinkered attitude or flawed scholastic methodology like that?
So I weighed in and presented him with piece after piece after piece - tiny fragments, each in themselves not conclusive and the whole needing to create a "most likely scenario", which is all, say archaeologists, do anyway. It wasted three days and nights and a lot of nerves.
Predictably he parroted, "I don't accept that," as each piece was presented. That is, he sat back and denied whilst I did the spade work. And on what basis did he deny?
"Well I just don't believe it. It doesn't prove anything."
"And what? One small fragment fails to prove the whole? Please!"
And for what to bother in the first place? What - did he think I was going to trawl through the combined scholarship of millennia and spend weeks and weeks collating it all, simply to convince someone who was fiercely determined not to be convinced? For the amount of hard work which that would entail, I might as well be granted a doctorate.
When he concluded, "I'm afraid I've never seen any evidence which satisfies me," I asked, "Who are you then?"
I mean, we are all merely tiny specks in a vast complex interraction going on and he says He's not satisfied? Of course he's not satisfied, never will be, if he refuses to let the evidence speak instead of contorting it to fit through his own jaundiced filters.
Look, analogously, an archaeologist goes to a dig site where he's heard there are fossils proving that the woolly mammoth existed and instead of digging and sifting, he sits and says to all the fellow archaeologists and assorted assistants, "All right, bring me what you have."
They gather ten or twelve fossil fragments for him on a tray and he looks down and says, "Nope, that's no mammoth. Doesn't exist."
Someone says to him, "Why don't you dig and find out for yourself?"
"I did, in the archaeological journal."
"No, I mean, get your hands dirty and patiently spend months and months until you find something, then piece it together with all the other fragments found around the world and in the fossil record and then come to a conclusion?"
"All right, tell me what that conclusion is and I'll tell you whether I believe it or not."
"Who are you?" mutters the fellow archaeologist as he returns to the dig.
I detest "debate" and I simply refuse to "prove" something to somebody who operates this way.
So when this blogger says that though the terrorism on the weekend was real, the terrorists real and the threat real, nevertheless it had all the hallmarks of a "hands off" approach by security whose role was playing "catch-up with the terrorist" and not circumventing known and possible threats.
And what the hell it had to do with ID cards and martial law, search and entry provisions, constricting the justice system and the smorgasbord of other draconian provisions is a logical non-sequitur.
Go to Iraq on a pretext, push the Muslims about and spit on their history, get the nutters and kill-militias moving and then, in full revenge mode, your security services can just take the foot off the pedal here and there, let one or two of the maddened thugs into the country or out of their religious sanctuary, fail to arrest, be half an hour late to circumvent, nothing which can be pinned down to the heads, you understand and the real agenda is achieved - the militarization of the country in preparation for the financial collapse, the calling in of debt and the next war between 2012 and 2020.
Don't tell me Blair and Brown are innocent in this. Was Richard Nixon? This sort of person who would bring in the type of legislation which he has is not the type not to know what's going on. It simply doesn't happen like that. Of course they fri---ng knew. These people might be pawns but they certainly knew something was going down, if not the fine detail. These people delegate badly but will do it if it's a question of sheeting home the guilt.
And if they didn't know anything, then why not? If they didn't know, then can they be trusted with more secuity powers than they've already surreptitiously signed into existence?
So, when I say all that, the auto-reply: "conspiracy theorist" is trotted out, as the catch all answer.
Sorry but that doesn't wash.
Cliches do not truth make and the likely truth is much nastier than the average person is willing to concede. You think it will be any better after Broony goes? Bush? With the Lizard Queen's forked tongue already in operation as she slithers across the
Why would anyone even to suggest that there is decency and self-determination at the top? Churchill said it, Woodrow Wilson said it. It's no different to advertising. Newspapers have as much editorial independence as the proprietory families and advertisers are willing to concede.
Power in
Keep your eye on Ed Balls.
On the other hand, you buck the trend, question the received wisdom and rock the boat at your peril and find yourself up the proverbial creek. Ask Ron or Guido.
It's all factored in and on the other side of the pond, the private Fed has the agenda set. Count the milestones - 2009, 2011 and 2012, then the biggy.
G-d help us all [if there is a G-d, that is].
For those of you had the extreme misfortune to miss the post on Wallace and Gromit by Tiberius Gracchus [real name Westminster Wisdom], this blog believes that he encapsulated the whole essence of what we're fighting for now in the west. Writing of a couple of endearing clay puppet characters, Tiberius put it this way:
Civilisation isn't just Michelangelo and Machiavelli, its Wallace and his efforts to get to the moon, its loving Wensleydale and its a dog knitting in a chair and rats with shades over their eyes, its merry eccentricity which is a value all to itself.
The absurdity of life is in many ways its essence- when we talk about freedom often we lose sight of the fact that freedom isn't just a political issue- its a personal issue as well.
Put simply in a totalitarian state like North Korea, you can't live a life based on Wensleydale and tea - you can't just decide to build a rocket to go to the moon (theoretically you could in the West) and you can't be madly, loveably, endeeringly and frustratingly often eccentric.
That's the reason its important to be free - its so the Wallaces and Gromits continue to flourish in our society.
Yes, yes, yes and yes. Change anything you like here for North America or Oceania, Asia or
We know who they are, with their ID cards, SPPNA, EU Army and all the other paraphernalia of a very sad bunch of people who delude themselves that they are the elite.
Thank you for putting it so clearly, Tiberius.
Awards about to begin - people taking up position. Tom Paine at the awards table, yours truly near the podium, Welshcakes in the foreground and Chipendale in the background coming to grips with himselfPicture a large cyber-city community in which Tom Paine has steadily bought up property ["the money's real, the reality's not", as one American told me yesterday].
A group of bloggers called Blogpower, who began as an angry response to glitzy closed awards competitions, together with their friends and colleagues and others who dropped by, having an awards ceremony of their own.
The Second Life programme as the engine, which required us to "build" and edit our own bodies, down to cheek bone position and "love handles", floating around, Matrix like, in a new reality which looked awfully like the real world and yet was a painted backdrop, a canvas which was lost when one stepped too far over the edge [a
IM, Chat, Teleporting and the arrows keys on the keyboard the main means of communicating and getting around.
LtoR: Free Jersey, Ordovicius Kidd, Yours truly [foreground], Devil's Kitchen [typing at the bar], Delicolor and the resplendent Mutley the Dog
What happened
As it turned out, the Ceremony itself was swept up in a flood of visits over many days, even weeks, from all colour of guests - much of my blogroll in all categories turning up at one time or another but fewer at the actual ceremony at the actual time and we need to possibly think of a new way to present these things.
My own speech lost in a technical nightmare where the slow dial-up connection meant my body was still building and the Awards Deck had not painted itself at the moment I was required to "speak".
This gave the appearance of being "tongue-tied" when I was actually furiously typing in the speech. By the time it was delivered, the ceremony had already moved on. I noticed Chipendale shooting past a few times too, as he tried to master his locomotion.
Assessment
Hugely successful for reasons other than the actual Awards, which were just one part of the weekend. Tom Paine's meticulous cyber-organizing which had everything dovetailed to beam people to this location or that had everyone dancing, drinking, eating, visiting shops and swimming at the pool and it became like a giant fiesta.
The bringing together in a Chat situation of bloggers from everywhere - Jon Swift, Devil's Kitchen, the Englishman, JMB from Vancouver, Jocko from South Australia and the estimated 40 others - their avatars standing at ease besides one another at the bar, chatting about anything under the sun - this was the real plus of the affair. Not possible in a blog or e-mail situation.
Late into the night, we were still shooting the breeze at the bar - you can just see DK typing something in ...
Highlights
The way Blogpower and so many from outside were there for the beano. Bag was there busily teleporting people and serving them with conscious altering drinks, Jocko was the life of the party, yours truly played the aging satyr with large biceps and a penchant for taking his clothes off and falling through floors, Welshcakes, Ruthie and the other ladies were Hot to Trot, Tom was the suave, tuxedo-bedecked ubiquitous host, aided by a team of cyber-experts and security men and women and a fun atmosphere pervaded.
Regrets
Those very close to us who didn't visit. Very sad.
Do it again?
You bet! Please put your hands together now, Ladies and Gentlemen, in a warm show of appreciation for Tom and all his efforts and hope he'll have us again.
