A: You remember that woman whose child was killed by Brady fifty odd years ago and she spent the rest of her life seeking justice?
B: Meanwhile, the rest of her kids lost her while she was fixated with the murder.
C: How do you know she didn’t spend part of each evening writing and phoning but the rest of the day she took care of day to day things?
A: But she still had it in the back of her mind the whole time, day in, day out.
D [me]: Mothers do that.
When there hasn’t been any more than the usual trauma of old age, when there was a closure of sorts, then it’s usually only once a year when it becomes difficult. But like Hamlet, when there has been no closure, then perhaps a person can be forgiven for becoming distracted.
However, if the living suffer because of this, then when is enough enough?
Regular readers, the ones who remain, will have noticed the ratcheting up of provocatively opinionated and wildly generalizing posts recently, the last one, on Bond, published yesterday. Put it down to the now-passed fad of a pontificating, middle-aged man-on-a-bicycle who wanted to see how it looked.
So to this post.
Higham is currently miffed.
Bloghounds was set up with a concept in mind and leaving myself aside, the original committee represented this concept, namely that they blogged ethically. To make that statement is to leave that ‘group’ wide open to one simple challenge – their ethical blogging.
Just what is ethical blogging?
None of us are saints and we all have skeletons in our personal and private cupboards, some more than others, admittedly. Many of us also, by the nature of our political blogging, are into fiskings, exposés, debunkings and the tearing down of hypocrisy; my statements in the ‘middle-aged post’ obviously, in some people’s minds, crossed the line into hypocrisy.
There is a line though which should never be crossed. One should never bring anything into the blogosphere about another person’s private life, especially personal details we know of a fellow blogger, we shouldn’t even intimate it and here’s the criterion:
… if that person has never set out to personally harm us and has shared bread with us, either metaphorically or for real.
Please look at the name of my blog.
Many bloggers wish for simple privacy and privacy is an endangered concept in today’s big brother society. In the open sphere, there are sharks circling for blood and the very nature of our political blogging makes enemies.
So yes, expose hypocrisy, yes, call someone out for being an unmitigated liar, yes, quote from his or her words but no, never publish, or email to a third party, his/her real name, address, workplace, sexual proclivities [if you didn’t know mine before and if they’re still of the remotest interest, read the soon to be posted book - it’s all explicite in there], yes, expose the fact that he is one of that detested subset, that pariah of the highways and byways – a closet bicycle rider, do any of that.
But no, don’t publish or bring into question the personal details of someone you’ve shared bread with and who wishes you no harm. Especially don’t touch on past misdemeanours, unless he or she is specifically denying, in a public forum, that they occurred, in order to harm someone else or you or to hide his/her little game.
This last is the key criterion – that he, for his own reasons, goes public and denies what he/she did, for the purpose of attacking another. Even then, the blogger might like to desist, if it doesn’t personally harm him/her.
I am angry because I believe someone I admire had that happen yesterday, quite out of the blue [no, not me - another person, on another blog]. That’s beyond the pale, in my eyes.
There are various commenters I hugely enjoy and some I know the personal details of, even down to photos sent either by them or by someone else; they’re lost somewhere in the library which is this computer.
Two ladies reading this, [other than Uber], will be smiling at me coming over all moral, given what we did some time back and ‘je regrette rien’. I’d do it all over again, for sure, if I were partnerless, which I currently am. One of those women is one of the nicest people I’ve ever known but unfortunately, we fell out over the f---ing CSA [and no, I’m not an alimony jumper – certain partners and I came to arrangements before the nazis took over and rewrote the rules]; we also fell out over a certain English blogger [my gripe] and over a young Melbourne-based blogger whom I never had anything with at any time, truly, despite what you saw – that girl would laugh in my face to think so [that lady’s gripe].
I’ve missed that lady ever since, even though she thinks I’m a smarta—e, which is true. The other I actually proposed marriage to and when she took it to be more than the ravings of a maniac and we got down to details, that involved more complex emotions and a total paradigm shift on both parts, which had my closest people freaking and shouting at me to get back to the real world.
By the way, to the one whom I suggested the idea [or maybe you suggested it and I embellished it, I can’t remember], I’m still planning to take you to that beach for the night, the cool sand, don’t think I’ve forgotten and I hope I’m still up to it and it’s not all talk.
Any of these ladies could sink me in the sphere if she wished and that just shows that some people have principles and are true to themselves, despite how they see me acting. The man trying to ‘out’ me last year was amusing – he was barking up the wrong tree completely. Does he think I’m a bunny rabbit? St’ruth, the real thing was otherwise.
And another thing, be careful of women. All the time you were [allegedly] manipulating women, one clever Australian [surely no oxymoron] was [allegedly] manipulating you to help get at other women. It’s not only the men, you know.
To another young thing in my age range, quite unhappy with me at this moment, who’ll read this today, I’d like to say now – don’t ever think I’ll forget your arms. You can think what you like but it’s the arms and lips which remain in the memory although you think I made light of them but at least we had that, rather than just cyber words, which is more than many of us can say. That and the salt of course ☺.
I’m relatively silent on Uber but I’m saying here and now that she is one of the kindest people I know, to those who don’t f—k her about; she’s straight down the line and my feelings are consequently warm and have not diminished in any way. Trouble is, she’s someone else’s, so I’ve stayed at a distance.
All the good ones are taken. Sigh. Listen to the third verse, last line, of Turn, Turn, Turn [immediately before the instrumental break].
Anyway, back to the topic, what sort of an animal would I be if I did an ‘outing’ of any of my friends or the few people I’ve been really close to, male or female?
This is the thing.
Even after you’re well aware someone’s been undermining you through emails to others, with snide, disloyal little daming with faint praise [don’t forget that these people email to tell me, dearest, despite protestations to the contrary], even after you know that that person wants to hit back at you, you still must never release personal details.
After all else has gone, all we have left is personal principles of a sort … plus loyalty.
They’re more sacrosanct than the confessional.
None of us are saints.
That’s all.
Here endeth the sermon.
Note 1 – clearly, I can’t leave comments open on this topic, for fear someone will bring even more attention to some other poor blogger in the sphere. However, moderation seems the way to go on this post, allowing statements by you and allowing me the right to scrutinize them late tomorrow morning when I get to the internet again. That will prevent slanging matches either way.
Note 2 - This post has also been a way to send covert messages openly, without emailing or phoning and I have personal reasons for remaining incommunicado in the citadel for now. Anyway, I hate phones and hardly ever email. Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you, please don’t see it that way.
Note 3 – Apparently this area near the sea here has no cable, it being stopped by a roughly parallel railway gorge, some distance away. What makes it worse is that I’m near the end of a track, right by the water.
Therefore, the only alternative is satellite, which is being installed in the next month, so I’m led to believe. When that happens, I’ll have cheap[ish] internet and will be able to research properly, visit properly, do bloghounds properly and blog properly.
The difference in this debate is that I have been arguing on the basis of what I believe to be true, and doing my best to explain why I believe it. Kevin, by way of contrast, claims to be able to literally ‘prove’ his case beyond any doubt whatsoever by recourse to detailed statistical data.
Mind boggles. Is that the same as, 'I know nothing about art but I know what I like?'
Tiberius Gracchus would be the first to admit the principle that one can’t judge the past by present day standards.
As many of you know, the original Bond films have been re-released in cleaned up digital format; the visual and sound quality is excellent in one sense but a bit clinical in another. It seems not unlike the early CDs against the vinyls – tonal qualities are missing.
What’s also missing is the societal context in which the Bond films appeared.
Quite frankly, I don’t find Wiseman in the least menacing and his demise was a bit pathetic; like Buddy Holly, the early guitar quartets and the days of the 12 song LP, [no more than 12], comprising two hits and the rest fillers - it all seems nice but a bit thin in production values.
The trouble is, Bond films don’t bear scrutiny.
They’re all about image, in the context of its day – fine for what it was at the time but eventually dating; even Moore is now so dated and yet Live and Let Die was vibrant at the time and the graveyard voodoo sequence a bit unnerving. The Connery era largely passed me by and I was brought up on Moore’s Moonraker et al and let’s face it, it was escapist, fantasy entertainment.
For me, OHMSS and The Living Daylights were far superior films, the only problem being the lead actors. Bond films really must reflect current realities, as was shown by the way Licence to Kill did not do that, a good film, set in a boring part of the U.S., as was Diamonds are Forever … but years ahead of its time.
People were not ready for that Dalton darkness then and yet Craig today has quite acceptably reprised the revenge motif in Quantum of Solace, doing the scrunched up scowl better than Timothy Dalton but still leaving one wondering whether he has any other tricks up his sleeve.
Having grown up in the Moore era, that doesn’t mean we have to like the lightweight flippancy and I’d vastly prefer the brooding menace underlying From Russia with Love and in the new[ish] Casino Royale … but does Connery deliver?
I’d say, on balance, no.
Look at the moment when he appears to Honey Rider, crooning behind a tree and getting a silly look on his too young face. Connery doesn’t stand the scrutiny of time, sad to say. Yet the overwhelming memory most have of those early Bonds was of Connery at his peak, at his most dangerous.
Ursula Andress is a puzzle to me. Did people really find her beautiful or the way she appeared from the sea remarkable? I thought Halle Berry did it better but the setting was better in the original. No, Andress I find far too masculine with that strong body, as was Caterina Murino, a man in a woman’s shell and perhaps Eva Green and the huge Olga Kurylenko also failed to excite. People even found Grace Jones beautiful so it takes all kinds, it seems.
I’d hardly expect any man to agree with me here.
Maryam d’Abo, whilst her character in TLD was annoyingly cloying, was at least tall, elegant and feminine. Sigh. Why can’t women be women, like Carole Bouquet [who can actually act, by the way – see For Your Eyes Only] and why can’t men be either less than neanderthal [Vin Diesel] or with more testosterone than the average, present day, oppressed, emasculated, weaker sex [take your pick]?
Someone like Topol [Columbo in For Your Eyes Only] or Gabriele Ferzetti [Draco in OHMSS] would be two candidates for role models.
Why can’t men pack a bit of menace to them any more, like Telly Savalas [OHMSS] or even Goldfinger himself? Rick Yune [Zao in Die Another Day] was a good example. Sean Bean was always good [e.g. in Golden Eye]. Why can’t men be both horribly intelligent and dangerous and when they pause to look at you, you squirm a little inside?
Also, why do we have to put up with bland bores like Modern Woman Miranda Frost [played by Rosamund Pike in DAD]? Newsday sums it up:
Miranda's view of Bond as a sexual dinosaur puts him refreshingly in his place. (Don't worry, boys, she gets hers.)
Refreshingly? Yawn.
Associated Press’s Christie Lemire’s take on Halle Berry:
She's strong and sexy, a great match for the dashing Brosnan. She's more than that, though; she's his partner …’
… which no one would dispute the desirability of, is then spoilt by the modern female fixation:
‘and every bit his equal.’
Yawn, yawn, yawn.
Why tf does the Modern Woman always have to compete? Why can’t she complement her man? It was Boy George who sang [in a different context, of course]:
You're my lover, not my rival.
By the way, speaking of appalling modern day women, did you read the other day about Angelina Jolie’s ‘need for other lovers’? What a poor excuse for a human being she’s always been.
Having said all that, the three most lethal agents in my own little trilogy are all women – a Russian called Ksenia, a European known as Thirteen and an Indonesian called Frederika [who exists in RL, by the way and I miss her a lot] although there is a maniac man, Zhenya, to partly redress the balance. Women run security sections, women are strong but they’re lovely in the arms.
People get fixated about Bond’s neanderthal sexual politics or the leading lady’s kick-butt, ‘she can’t be oppressed’, sleep inducing politics but the simple truth is that they’ve misjudged what’s really going on.
Bond gets the woman because he knows how to treat her well, it’s as simple as that – he’s always treated his women well at the point of contact and they appreciate it.
Yet can you imagine him doing his thing without a woman by his side, not for eye-candy reasons but for mutual support? Brosnan would not have overcome Graves on the plane unless Halle Berry had been doing her thing as well. Look at the eye contact between the two – there’s real chemistry there and the mealy-mouthed, begrudged thanks of Kurylenko Camilla at the end of Solace was an insult. It would never do to actually appreciate your partner these days, would it, you ingrates?
Do you detect the smoke coming from my nostrils?
Craig was tamed by his love for a woman and Moore was saved by two martial arts savvy schoolgirls. Even Tell Savalas’s Blofield could not have done it without the excellent Ilse Steppat’s Irma Bunt. She, in turn, was the one who facilitated his vision.
Look, you can’t have bread without butter, you can’t have savoury food without salt, you can’t have an overseas trip without somewhere to stay, you can’t have a real man without a proper woman and you can’t have a proper woman without a real man. Period. Full stop.
For me, that’s the real world and this current travesty we’re enduring today will hopefully become a thing of the past.
