[scrooge] bah, it's all humbug

Selfishness

Matrimony has one thing going for it, apart from the joy of family - it keeps a man from indulging himself.

Though he might kick against it and grab his chances when he can, his kids keep drawing him back and he gets used to living with a bunch of other people in the house - he knows the word "compromise" and what it truly means, even down to bathroom availability.

That seems to me to be good ongoing training. It most certainly builds character and keeps him on the straight and narrow. It also has health benefits. Seems to me that, once having broken the matrimonial harness, we begin a downwards spiral towards self-centredness and self-gratification.

Pity the young hedonist who sees a woman and beds her, sees another and beds her and then tries to justify his position. Because what he's doing is killing part of himself as a person and slowly becoming more sociopathic and less tolerant of any but his own needs and desires, though he'll convince himself he's simply being altruistic to more people.

It's an illusion. He is on the way to becoming a satyr. After all, who was it said:

The body of a hedonist is the coffin of a dead soul.

Pity the old hedonist too who has broken free of wife and family and now can never get back into it.

He meets a lovely lady and they seem tailor made for each other. All her quirks seem unimportant at this point and he falls in love with her, the way she seems to have fallen for him.

Compromise

They enter the era of compromise but this can't go on forever. As ardour cools and little habits start to become annoying, thereafter it becomes a question of luck for the two of them.

Example - there was a girl sitting next to me yesterday [and as you know, I like a cooler room with some flow-through ventilation at all times]. I asked her if she wasn't cold and she said she liked it that way.

Uh-huh, just like me. She and I could do business.

Now, a different girl in the room whom I would give anything to marry, she was so lovely; however, she took the opposite point of view. She's a "seal all the doors and windows and seal in the coughing, spluttering sickness with it" type and she was feeling sick too.

Unfortunately, though she would have been my first choice, the other would have been a better bet.

I haven't explained myself well. All right, here's another example.

Basically, there are some things which can't be compromised on and the air we breathe is one of them. I have a lady client and it's a constant battle with her. We like each other immensely but she sits opposite me and asks me to close the door but I have to have it partially open because the room becomes so stuffy and the eyes start to water after ten minutes.

So I close it.

Ten minutes later, she starts coughing and her eyes start watering. I point this out, open the door - give her a towel to put over her feet, she wraps herself up against the cold but the sickness does disappear. The rest of the session is spent like this, trying to find a compromise position between her needs and mine.

Next girl is a different proposition. She likes the air as I do and the session goes smoothly.

So imagine this was a marriage situation. For example - she likes seafood and has a habit of leaving prawn shells everywhere. The fridge smells of it and it's awful. Or what about a girl who's crazy for cats and kisses them, then expects me to kiss her? No wonder I was always sick.

You can speak about compromise until you're blue in the face but what can one do here? Now I expect a married person reading this would think I was so self-centred and it's true - that's what escaping matrimony does to you, I'm sure.

When the two go in opposite directions

There was once a woman I was involved with who'd been married years earlier to my accountant. He'd remained the same, year in, year out. He had his circle and his cycle, he liked skiing [she didn't] and so on. She got into astrology, joined a group whom she began to bring into the family home for conferences and it sent the hubby round the bend.

What to do in that situation? Naturally, they divorced.

I do accept Dale O'Leary's view:

The "family" in all ages and in all corners of the globe can be defined as a man and a woman bonded together through a socially approved covenant of marriage to regulate sexuality, to bear, raise, and protect children, to provide mutual care and protection, to create a small home economy, and to maintain continuity between the generations, those going before and those coming after.

It is out of the reciprocal, naturally recreated relations of the family that the broader communities—such as tribes, villages, peoples, and nations—grow.

Yes, I really believe it's the only sustainable way to live [let's just agree to disagree here] but the barriers to making it work are awesome.

Christmas and New Year

I can't stand the commercialism of this season and am doing everything humanly possible to stop people buying me anything. But it's impossible.

For example, the Vice-Deans and Dean, I just know they're quietly expecting something and I know certain clients are going to feel duty bound to offer me something. I'd prefer just to have a coffee with them. Seriously.

Selfish? Maybe it is but I look at Sally in Norfolk's comment about being stressed out by the Christmas pressure and I ask:

"For what to do this each year?"

[grub street] fat cats at it again

The Grubby People are at it again:

Sainsbury's and Asda have admitted fixing the price of milk and cheese following an inquiry by the Office of Fair Trading (OFT).

The supermarkets, along with a number of dairy firms, have agreed to pay fines totalling at least £116m. Cases against Tesco and Morrisons will continue after no deal was struck.

The OFT said that its evidence found that while dairy product prices went up after the collusion, the price received by farmers did not increase.

Don't you just love that - the watchdog makes a deal with the firms who are being fined for making a deal. So who are the Grub Family here?

This is the downside of capitalism - cabals, trusts and price-fixing. Not a lot can be done really. At what point can a government step in and prevent mergers?

Their answer, of course - when it threatens to restrain free trade but what is free trade anyway other than cutting your rivals out of the market? The strongest survives and then it's irrelevant if the monopoly is state or private - the fat cat still pocket the dosh.

[regions] only within the national whole

We're going to keep blogging on this thing. It's as simple as this - there are democratically elected governments, yea, even the traitor Brown ... and then there are the euphemistically named qangos and NGOs. Behind them is the money.

Only a madman would speak out against this real power. Call me mad. Here is the latest, from the CEP:

So it would appear that Peter Davidson (who sits on the governing body of Unlock Democracy) sees the destruction of England as a nation - or indeed Britain - a desirable outcome.

I suspect that this is his website, on which he explains:

I would also endorse the proposal that the Committee of the Regions should be elevated in stature from the toothless body it currently represents to become the second legislative chamber of Europe.

Toque quotes author Frederick Forsyth:

[He] was once approached by the East Midlands Regional Assembly to become an ambassador for the region. His reply was a joy to read:

Regionalism, behind its mask of local democracy, enhanced prosperity for all, but in truth standing for millions more unaccountable gravy-slurping jobsworths, has got to fool enough of the people enough of the time…

But you run into a group of people far more numerous than yourself, just as committed to the retention of England as you are to its disappearance, just as smart and just as moneyed. Before the fight is over you and yours will have learned the hard way that this old country of ours is not yet prepared to be led into the knacker’s yard.

In the spirit of Frederick Forsyth I respond to the regionalists over at Our Kingdom:

Phil Davis in the Guardian signed off his Guardian article by informing us that he ‘chairs the Campaign for the English Regions’. [I was] shocked because I thought we’d buried that particular organisation when we were victorious in the North East referendum, so I emailed Phil who told me:

Nationalism is not an ideology, but a disease (of the soul)…Hope you recover...

[S]uch a statement shows contempt not just for the Scots and Welsh - who have recently voted for national government of their own - but also for the majority of the world’s population who elect their government along national lines.

Toque refers to the North-East in particular and here's an interesting thing. I myself have been extolling the virtues of Northumbria but there is one distinct difference. My Northumbria is under English control, it's part of a greater England, of which it is an earldom. Even that stout yeoman, Englisc Fyrd, remembers the true regionalism with affection.

The neo-regionalists, on the other hand, are under the control of the EU monster, an alien seed seeking to insinuate itself into someone else's country..

That distinction makes all the difference in the world. If you look at the flag above, which requires the Northumbrian colours somewhere in it, it is quartered with the English flag, not the EU's.

And yet the EU seeks to hijack this vague nationalism and somehow twist it into a version of itself. We need to be on our guard about quislings within our borders twisting the structure to suit themselves, an analogy yesterday being the cult leader who tries to redefine something which requires no redefinition, the ulterior motive being personal power and control.

He does it by appealing to vague innate feelings within each person, harnessing them, redirecting them and then carrying the person away on a tide of emotion. Pure 1930s all over again.

Interesting that I'm integrally involved in "the region as part of the nation" over here where I live and the notion of the region as part of and a major contributing factor to the national whole is a process which has very nearly been reachieved. We were discussing this only yesterday in the light of the different post-election political map.

In every nation, let it be the same but let artificial constructs like the CFR controlled SPPNA [which Bush, Martin and the Mexican allowed into being in March, 2005] and the EU monster go the way of all things.

[facebook] nice to see it confirmed

All that needs to be said about this has already been said. Do not join Facebook unless:

1. You would like your private details leaked and shared with government;

2. You plan never to leave Facebook [as it's near impossible].

Have a good day.

[omaha shootings] three ways to view them

Before we even start, the shootings were tragic and our hearts go out to the victims and their families.

After that comes the inevitable analysis and this falls into three camps:

1. Those who read no further than than news sources:

A man opened fire with a rifle at a busy department store Wednesday, killing eight people before taking his own life in an attack that made holiday shoppers run screaming through a mall and barricade themselves in dressing rooms. Five more people were wounded, two critically.

The gunman left a suicide note that was found at his home by his mother, said a law enforcement official who spoke on condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to speak. TV station KETV reported that the note said he wanted to "go out in style."

... and conclude from that that America needs to revoke the gun laws in the light of yet another senseless citizen shooting.

2. Those who read no further than than news sources, patriots draped in the American flag, defending the constitutional rights of all citizens to bear arms. They will say that the Omaha shootings are not related to the gun laws issue. Already on this blog there's been a lively discussion about these laws here and here.

3. Those who are prepared to read far more widely than news sources and then filter the mass of material through the filter of past substantiation and logic. For such people as these, the name Omaha is quite well known in a number of contexts.

The Franklin Cover-up is well worth a look, particularly its being ruled as a hoax then that overturned nine years later, together with the MK Ultra cover-ups [see either orthodox sources like the Church hearings or read books like Trance Formation and Thanks for the Memories] which point to Offutt Air Force Base, near Omaha, as one ongoing source of human misery.

In the light of all that, it is scarcely surprising that Omaha hosted the latest in the attempts to disarm America. If your mind is so constructed that you can reject 100% of this material out of hand, then I have one question. O'Brian's and Taylor's books make quite detailed and specific allegations against, among others, Kissinger and Cheney.

Why, in a litigious society like America, did these two statesmen not act immediately to slap a libel action on the two authoresses for gross defamation and fabrication against the United States itself? After all, Bing Crosby and others labelled the Church hearings as treasonous [though the allegations were later substantiated].

Why has all this material not been debunked? And while we're at it, why hasn't the testimony of Paul Bonacci and Johnny Gosch been finally and irrevocably shown to be demonstrably false? Those who point to the 1990 grand jury judgement that it was a hoax and Bonacci's subsequent imprisonment fail to mention the 1999 Judge Urbon award of $1 million to this star witness who was supposed to have perpetrated the hoax.

So, coming back to the original question of gun laws, if I were an American and I'd seen all this testimony about my gallant leadership and how the organs of state are utilized [not a pun on Cheney], I'd feel the right of Americans to bear arms in that Most Dangerous Game - Life in America - is a most fundamental and necessary right indeed.

Interesting that these tragic shootings took place about the same time as this.

[december 5th] day for me to remember

The first thought which comes into my head regarding my mother is "energetic", energetic to a fault.

She'd never sit still. If we were watching the football, she'd be bustling round doing things and giving scornful glances as if to say: "You great lugs, sitting there when you should be up working." Didn't matter if it was a night match, it was the same.

If we went, as a family, which we didn't often, to someone's birthday or to dinner, it would be off with the coat and gloves and into the kitchen to help, often reaching for a tea towel before anyone said: "No, no, you're a guest." No one ever did say that because she'd have it all done with whilst they were still talking. They weren't fools.

This attitude of wanting to have the thing done and onto the next job has come down to me and I can't help wanting things settled, for example in Blogpower, so that we can get onto the next issue. I took less money for my last car for precisely that reason - I just wanted the thing over and done with.

She was canny as well - there was no way to fool her and when someone came at her with a tall story, the wry lift of the eyebrow was usually enough. She adored children which was just as well because they were her job and there are many today who look back on their mothercraft nurse with affection and a little awe.

The awe was because she was a stickler for the old ways. The bathwater was never deeper than six inches for toddler safety, one had to learn to say no to a child to bring the child up with good values and yet she never laid a hand or slapped any child except me - once - when I was two and pulled the knobs of the radio. Even then it was a tap, otherwise I would have remembered.

This is going to sound stupid but I'm typing this now at the table, rather than in the armchair because I half suspect she might be watching me slouching. Father too.

Despite this, she wasn't stern and if I was looking for a way to describe her, the old military rule of "fair, firm and friendly" is closest to the mark though I'd say loving rather than friendly. The type of love which never speaks but one knows it's there. Sense of humour too. The wry grin was her trademark.

If either my father or I accused her of something - throwing out a piece of equipment or washing a motor, she'd say; "Oh yes, all of that and more." She couldn't be insulted, she couldn't be hurt or so it seemed and in a male household, she held her own. In fact she held it together.

I always had to look someone in the eye if I was speaking to him, I never ate with my mouth full, used a knife and fork properly, wasn't allowed to slouch in a chair and so on. Came in handy during my military days later.

On such occasions as today, there is a tendency to wax lyrical, to eulogize. I shan't do that because she wouldn't. And yet she was as susceptible to the compliment, the flowers, the attention, as any woman. To be taken out was her delight, even if she could have cooked it better herself.

That was the other thing I took for granted - I just thought all women cooked superbly until I got into the wife business. Then I realized how spoiled I'd been for grub. In those days it was always the heavy, cast iron pressure cooker for the veg and the grill for the meat. Except on Sundays when it was the roast and I couldn't get enough of those tatie quarters.

As you'd expect, the house was clean enough to eat your meal off the floor and it was shoes off at the door if the weather was inclement. Only in Russia are they more obsessive about shoes inside. The venetian blinds and curtain rails constantly needed cleaning and that was my father's job. Another thing he was roped in to do was to wash up after the meal. This was never questioned and sometimes they got me into it too.

On our motoring holiday, she'd sometimes get me in free overnight wherever we were and if wasn't clean enough, that was the end. One day she sold our house because the price was right. More than right - it was apparently way over the odds. Both my father, from his work and me from university, came home that Thursday to discover we were moving.

Interesting about my dad that he put up with all this sort of thing but I suppose he knew when he was onto a good thing and her sixth sense for a good deal never, in my experience, turned out to be wrong.

Naturally, with such a go-getter, we could only take so much before we ran for cover - my father to the workshop and me to a friend's. Never fazed my mother though and the meal was ready when we returned. That's one reason I love the grandmothers over here.

They have no mental equipment to enable them to perceive that someone might not want to have their chunky broth and torn off hunk of bread. It's just taken as read and a person must have rocks in the head to refuse a grandma's cooking in this country. It's just so delicious. So it was with her.

Not that she ate this herself though. Oh, no, she was of the sparrow variety - a nibble of salad here, a couple of mandarins there - well eight or nine, actually - and the olives which I never got to love, though I can eat them today if served.

Ice-cream was her Achilles' heel and if it was from an ice-cream shop, she was gone. In the later years, when she had lost a lot of her powers, the mention of ice-cream had the intellect alert and the smile would come to the face.

As you'd expect, she could not abide a fool nor amateur dramatics. One day when I came home from school with a nose which had been bleeding several hours, supported by two stout schoolmates, one on either side and I was deposited at our front door, my mother came out and told them: "Uh-huh. He'll live."

The schoolmates were mortified as my dramatics had been pretty effective. Once inside, it was time to drop the act and just clean up the nose. She wouldn't let me out to play though and had the doctor see to me next day.

She adored Yorkshire though it had nothing to do with her - she came from other parts [see photo above]. That was my father's thing. Didn't like the snow though and that was one reason for the move to Australia. I don't really know then, from whence I picked up my love of the Russian winter.

So here I am before you this evening, a product of many influences but most certainly of my my mother, whose birthday is today.

Happy birthday up there, mother. My underpants were clean on today, I promise. Yes, yes, I cleaned my teeth after supper. Yes, I've done my homework. Yes I know I had two girls here now cleaning the flat and I could have saved the money but I'm not you, am I?

You were ... are ... a one-off.