James Crosby was probably paid for this report, and that's what makes it shocking. If he hasn't found anything new or surprising about why Britain has landed in this mess, it means that we might as well have had Orangutans running the Bank of England and the Treasury.
Well here's my simple explanation for people who cannot count, let alone care about money:
Britain exposed its monetary economic control to global financial markets. It was borrowing money from global supplies, for example to sell mortgages. It thought it was keeping control of its money supply, through the Bank of England, but it didn't count how these inflows of global money were affecting its money supply.
Oh yes, could an anti-globalist wish for anything better? The global financial system failed in one part of its machine, and the whole damn machine broke down. Britain was so proud of being part of a global machine. Well globalists don't tell you the downside of globalism, do they? The bigger the machine, the bigger the breakdown when just one thing goes wrong in the machine. A bit like a whole Space Shuttle blowing up because one person used the wrong type of washer when they were fitting a bolt.
So now Britain's monetary economy has been left to recover on its own, and all they can manage to say is that:
The global system broke. There are no quick fixes. We will have to live without the global machine and learn to be self-sufficient again. This will take at least two years.
To which I add:
Stop eating mortgages. In fact, stop eating and wasting so much food, otherwise the global food system will break down too!
I hope the wide-eyed kids who studied politics in university who work at Westminster for our busy, simple-minded, Members of Parliament can explain these simple facts of Globalization to their bosses:
Global isn't always Good. Global always is dangerous. Take the collapse in World Trade Organisation Doha round talks for example.
De-Globalization is best managed, and not left to chance, or worse, to War. Everybody needs to have a Plan B, and people who walk around saying Globalism is Good never seem to give us a Plan B.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
David Cameron gets his bike back
Is life fair? He loses it for only 4 days, and then he gets it back. With his helmet.
Supposedly the Mirror got it back for him.
I daresay all newspapers will be joining the game of having celebrity bikes stolen and then having them returned.
I'm not a celebrity, get me out of here. Where's my bike so I can get out of here?
Supposedly the Mirror got it back for him.
I daresay all newspapers will be joining the game of having celebrity bikes stolen and then having them returned.
I'm not a celebrity, get me out of here. Where's my bike so I can get out of here?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Isn't She Lovely
I had to go into Central London today. It was the hottest day of the year so far, but the temperature barely crawled up to 26 degrees, and I never once broke into sweat. This eventual arrival of summer was obvious from the number of tattoos visible on rough labourers who, surprisingly, still have jobs in this lame recession.
Enfeebled on the way home by the Lurgy I suffered mid-week, brought on by the trauma of losing my bike last week, I walked with heavy feet, and looked at the London Wall. The City gardening contractors are still obeying Chelsea Flower Show practices: using rubber rakes, wasting water on the grass in this dry weather, and teasing the flower beds to look as crisp and clean as china flower vases. There is a healthy fig tree, heavy with fruit, and a herb garden in honour of the herbalist John Gerard, in front of the Worshipful Company of Barbers (they were the original surgeons and medicine men, because they had knives). The garden bends into one of the Barbican's modernist rectangular ponds, softened with lovely water lilies to catch the splashing water of its plain fountain. Already I was seeing here people who had the saintly beatification of being "lovely" about their person.
What is "lovely"?
It must have been sometime before the millenium that Britain got fed up with "nice". Then we had nasty. It must have been at some time after the 2004 London terrorist attacks, that "lovely" became de rigueur. Corporations had to demonstrate social responsibility, including caring about humanitarian and green issues, and their human resources assets.
When I arrived in Finsbury Circus, the largest green oasis in the City of London, all my dread was hardened. There they were, all being "lovely", as the lunch hour was beginning on a summer Friday, on the grass, on the benches, in the sunshine. The internal melodies of R.E.M. Shiny Happy People kept their loveliness at bay from the pain I feel so easily when I am unwell. Indeed, to wander through London whenever you are not feeling well is the opposite of all medicine, even the crudely effective sort that John Gerard practised 450 years ago.
All of these Lovely People in Finsbury Circus were young, fit, healthy and good-looking. If they had not been born onto the Conveyor Belt of Success, then their youth and looks meant that they were quickly put onto it. Here we are, in a darkening recession, where even the people of Glasgow East, despite being the most sheepish form of Labour supporter, have finally thrown eggs into the unlovely face of Gordon Brown, our Scottish prime minister. Here we are, in another global food crisis, where over a million people in Ethiopia are waiting for a grain shipment from South Africa, or they will starve in the next month. Here we are, in London, where there are plenty of people whose pain needs to be shared.
And there I was, seeing the lunchtime workers in Finsbury Circus, being "lovely". Before Lovely, people in the City had to be thrusting and sexy, so this is a new social phenomenon.
When I saw the shop, The White Stuff, advertising "Lovely Clothes for Lovely People", I knew it was time to blog about "lovely". Attack!
"Lovely" has nothing to do with Love. In the English language, there is only one word for Love, which is a stunning reflection of the naive level of understanding of love in English culture and history. Sorry, I have to tell it like it is. As I have said before, in English, Love is just another four-letter word.
So what is "lovely"? To be Lovely is:
1. to appear absolutely harmless and non-threatening, and
2. to portray an aura of compassionate intelligence,
3. to appear to be able to extend kindness to anyone in the vicinity who should need it.
4. to appear to have an easy laughing heart
5. to know you must hide all your pain underneath lest it might violate the fragile fantasy of happiness of those around you.
Yes, "lovely", is superficial as it gets, even if it is the nicest form of superficial you can get. This is because Lovely is the old Nice.
The most "Lovely" people seem to live in North London, for miles around Crouch End, but they are not alone. They are just green enough so that they feel worthy. They are just humanist enough that nobody can say they don't care. They are all so terribly lovely, and live in such gilded lovely worlds.
"Lovely" is also endemic in the workplace. To see it in the City is a recent social phenomenon, but it has been brewing in the public sector for years. Particularly in the NHS, it has been adopted as the perfect camouflage by those staff who know that they are overpaid in relation to what they produce.
At least Lovely People are not bicycle thieves, knive stabbing murderers, or coke-snorting greedy City Traders, but their problem is this:
Lovely people are not part of the solution, so they are nonetheless part of the problem. "Lovely" does not solve any problems, let alone pressing ones. "Lovely" is a form of mutual social masturbation, akin to sitting around making cups of tea while bombs are falling on your neighbours.
*******
Onward to Spitalfields market, where Loveliness acquires Grittiness, and what do I have to report, except that the devastation of Spitalfields Market is finally completed, since I first blogged about it 4 years ago. Indeed, even the Health Food Shop near where the Spitz used to be, was finally moved out two months ago, and is now across the road while this last bit of the market is given the same tacky makeover worthy of a BBC Television programme. Yes, London is now for sale to those who couldn't give a damn about authentic historical places: so long as it has been modernized with the bling of Millenium Oil-Powered Industrialization, someone will pay more for it. Russians and Kazakhstanis, I suppose? Or Malaysians and Middle-Easterners, maybe? Who knows. It is all Global Capital, and the Lovely People of London who gather in Finsbury Circus, are quite happy to take home their wages while fostering this globalization.
Enfeebled on the way home by the Lurgy I suffered mid-week, brought on by the trauma of losing my bike last week, I walked with heavy feet, and looked at the London Wall. The City gardening contractors are still obeying Chelsea Flower Show practices: using rubber rakes, wasting water on the grass in this dry weather, and teasing the flower beds to look as crisp and clean as china flower vases. There is a healthy fig tree, heavy with fruit, and a herb garden in honour of the herbalist John Gerard, in front of the Worshipful Company of Barbers (they were the original surgeons and medicine men, because they had knives). The garden bends into one of the Barbican's modernist rectangular ponds, softened with lovely water lilies to catch the splashing water of its plain fountain. Already I was seeing here people who had the saintly beatification of being "lovely" about their person.
What is "lovely"?
It must have been sometime before the millenium that Britain got fed up with "nice". Then we had nasty. It must have been at some time after the 2004 London terrorist attacks, that "lovely" became de rigueur. Corporations had to demonstrate social responsibility, including caring about humanitarian and green issues, and their human resources assets.
When I arrived in Finsbury Circus, the largest green oasis in the City of London, all my dread was hardened. There they were, all being "lovely", as the lunch hour was beginning on a summer Friday, on the grass, on the benches, in the sunshine. The internal melodies of R.E.M. Shiny Happy People kept their loveliness at bay from the pain I feel so easily when I am unwell. Indeed, to wander through London whenever you are not feeling well is the opposite of all medicine, even the crudely effective sort that John Gerard practised 450 years ago.
All of these Lovely People in Finsbury Circus were young, fit, healthy and good-looking. If they had not been born onto the Conveyor Belt of Success, then their youth and looks meant that they were quickly put onto it. Here we are, in a darkening recession, where even the people of Glasgow East, despite being the most sheepish form of Labour supporter, have finally thrown eggs into the unlovely face of Gordon Brown, our Scottish prime minister. Here we are, in another global food crisis, where over a million people in Ethiopia are waiting for a grain shipment from South Africa, or they will starve in the next month. Here we are, in London, where there are plenty of people whose pain needs to be shared.
And there I was, seeing the lunchtime workers in Finsbury Circus, being "lovely". Before Lovely, people in the City had to be thrusting and sexy, so this is a new social phenomenon.
When I saw the shop, The White Stuff, advertising "Lovely Clothes for Lovely People", I knew it was time to blog about "lovely". Attack!
"Lovely" has nothing to do with Love. In the English language, there is only one word for Love, which is a stunning reflection of the naive level of understanding of love in English culture and history. Sorry, I have to tell it like it is. As I have said before, in English, Love is just another four-letter word.
So what is "lovely"? To be Lovely is:
1. to appear absolutely harmless and non-threatening, and
2. to portray an aura of compassionate intelligence,
3. to appear to be able to extend kindness to anyone in the vicinity who should need it.
4. to appear to have an easy laughing heart
5. to know you must hide all your pain underneath lest it might violate the fragile fantasy of happiness of those around you.
Yes, "lovely", is superficial as it gets, even if it is the nicest form of superficial you can get. This is because Lovely is the old Nice.
The most "Lovely" people seem to live in North London, for miles around Crouch End, but they are not alone. They are just green enough so that they feel worthy. They are just humanist enough that nobody can say they don't care. They are all so terribly lovely, and live in such gilded lovely worlds.
"Lovely" is also endemic in the workplace. To see it in the City is a recent social phenomenon, but it has been brewing in the public sector for years. Particularly in the NHS, it has been adopted as the perfect camouflage by those staff who know that they are overpaid in relation to what they produce.
At least Lovely People are not bicycle thieves, knive stabbing murderers, or coke-snorting greedy City Traders, but their problem is this:
Lovely people are not part of the solution, so they are nonetheless part of the problem. "Lovely" does not solve any problems, let alone pressing ones. "Lovely" is a form of mutual social masturbation, akin to sitting around making cups of tea while bombs are falling on your neighbours.
*******
Onward to Spitalfields market, where Loveliness acquires Grittiness, and what do I have to report, except that the devastation of Spitalfields Market is finally completed, since I first blogged about it 4 years ago. Indeed, even the Health Food Shop near where the Spitz used to be, was finally moved out two months ago, and is now across the road while this last bit of the market is given the same tacky makeover worthy of a BBC Television programme. Yes, London is now for sale to those who couldn't give a damn about authentic historical places: so long as it has been modernized with the bling of Millenium Oil-Powered Industrialization, someone will pay more for it. Russians and Kazakhstanis, I suppose? Or Malaysians and Middle-Easterners, maybe? Who knows. It is all Global Capital, and the Lovely People of London who gather in Finsbury Circus, are quite happy to take home their wages while fostering this globalization.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Can David Cameron bring back Capital Punishment for Bike Crime
I am 8 days ahead of the fashion for having your bicycle stolen, because today, David Cameron also had his bicycle stolen, from in front of a supermarket.
Yes, to him, his bicycle was priceless. Mine was priceless too, and the priceless bit was counted in the tears, the grief, and is still being counted in the effort of finding its replacement. He is the future Prime Minister of Britain. He probably had insurance for it, and can afford to lose his bicycle more than I can, yet he feels upset about it. If there had been a camera filming me when I found out my bike was stolen, you would have seen how priceless a bicycle can be.
It should be discussed whether Capital Punishment should be re-introduced for Bicycle Theft. Since the Sixties the concept of having capital punishment has met resistance even for crimes of rape and murder. This has resulted in Western countries having prisons overflowing with drugs and obesity, even while indigenous tribes in Africa and Asia are dying of starvation and malnutrition.
I think it would be much easier to bring back capital punishment now, and especially for bicycle theft and crime. The mood is right. The failure to bring this subject into discussion in the Houses of Parliament will only result in yet more people being keen to adopt Sharia Law. Yes, even I could be converted to supporting Sharia Law, since I have had my bicycle stolen.
So there it is - we either spend the rest of our years suffering the social results of namby-pamby Sixties liberalism, while seeing more of society converting to Sharia law,
or we discuss bringing back Capital Punishment. After all, there are so many humane ways of execution nowadays - an overdose of Prozac, maybe? Or being given as much alcohol to drink as is necessary to become unconscious, before a quick capsule of cyanide is popped down the gullet of the heinous criminal.
Watch out, bicycle thieves. Give back your stolen bicycles, or be sentenced to death!
Yes, to him, his bicycle was priceless. Mine was priceless too, and the priceless bit was counted in the tears, the grief, and is still being counted in the effort of finding its replacement. He is the future Prime Minister of Britain. He probably had insurance for it, and can afford to lose his bicycle more than I can, yet he feels upset about it. If there had been a camera filming me when I found out my bike was stolen, you would have seen how priceless a bicycle can be.
It should be discussed whether Capital Punishment should be re-introduced for Bicycle Theft. Since the Sixties the concept of having capital punishment has met resistance even for crimes of rape and murder. This has resulted in Western countries having prisons overflowing with drugs and obesity, even while indigenous tribes in Africa and Asia are dying of starvation and malnutrition.
I think it would be much easier to bring back capital punishment now, and especially for bicycle theft and crime. The mood is right. The failure to bring this subject into discussion in the Houses of Parliament will only result in yet more people being keen to adopt Sharia Law. Yes, even I could be converted to supporting Sharia Law, since I have had my bicycle stolen.
So there it is - we either spend the rest of our years suffering the social results of namby-pamby Sixties liberalism, while seeing more of society converting to Sharia law,
or we discuss bringing back Capital Punishment. After all, there are so many humane ways of execution nowadays - an overdose of Prozac, maybe? Or being given as much alcohol to drink as is necessary to become unconscious, before a quick capsule of cyanide is popped down the gullet of the heinous criminal.
Watch out, bicycle thieves. Give back your stolen bicycles, or be sentenced to death!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Oh Wail, oh wail, oh
Ooow...Aarrhh Oh!
Wail
From the Bed to the Sofa.
Wail
From the Sofa to the Bed.
What have I done
Wail
It all went wrong
OwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggggggggggHHHHHHH!
Whine
But not a sound's been made
the wail song has moaned silently
Sullenly for months
So deeply that it has been unseen
But wails do surface
For air.
It's been all my fault.
Wail, Waaahhhh!
It's all gone wrong.
Life's not worth living
Alone.
What have I done
To deserve the very life I despise?
The weekend of playing briefly with the old lovelessness
Yesterday came down with a heavy dull, dumb thud.
In mere hours I had shown here all there was to show
all that was green in my pleasant land
And even to me it was so obvious there is nothing here
That I want any more.
Today
Lying on the bed
Waiting for life to return to my drained will,
Love loomed again and again
Each time it was your face
Your hairy face,
Filling my field of view.
I yearned
And chastised myself for yearning
But I need to believe in love
Even if love will not believe in me.
www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/offthepage
What have I done wrong,
but where was the glue
to help us to stick together?
The kiss
The perfect most loving kiss
I miss.
Wail
From the Bed to the Sofa.
Wail
From the Sofa to the Bed.
What have I done
Wail
It all went wrong
OwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggggggggggHHHHHHH!
Whine
But not a sound's been made
the wail song has moaned silently
Sullenly for months
So deeply that it has been unseen
But wails do surface
For air.
It's been all my fault.
Wail, Waaahhhh!
It's all gone wrong.
Life's not worth living
Alone.
What have I done
To deserve the very life I despise?
The weekend of playing briefly with the old lovelessness
Yesterday came down with a heavy dull, dumb thud.
In mere hours I had shown here all there was to show
all that was green in my pleasant land
And even to me it was so obvious there is nothing here
That I want any more.
Today
Lying on the bed
Waiting for life to return to my drained will,
Love loomed again and again
Each time it was your face
Your hairy face,
Filling my field of view.
I yearned
And chastised myself for yearning
But I need to believe in love
Even if love will not believe in me.
www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/offthepage
What have I done wrong,
but where was the glue
to help us to stick together?
The kiss
The perfect most loving kiss
I miss.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Social Network
Road Network:
Mapped
With footpaths
To motorways.
Yet some still need TomTom
To get from A 2 B
Social Network:
Is there a TomTom
For people and connections?
Perhaps I don't even know where A is,
Let alone B.
Those who don't know their A,
Should take no shame in it,
But they could do with some help.
Those who don't know their B,
Need a Rough Guide to a Lonely Planet.
Mapped
With footpaths
To motorways.
Yet some still need TomTom
To get from A 2 B
Social Network:
Is there a TomTom
For people and connections?
Perhaps I don't even know where A is,
Let alone B.
Those who don't know their A,
Should take no shame in it,
But they could do with some help.
Those who don't know their B,
Need a Rough Guide to a Lonely Planet.
Monday, July 21, 2008
When my bike was stolen
When my bike was stolen last week, I was truly heartbroken. I thought to myself then, that even when you think you are already a broken man, something can come along that breaks you down even more.
Today, I am getting on with things. It would be wonderful if the police could recover my bike, with all its bits, but the chances of that happening are less than that of the thief coming along and saying,
"Here mate, thanks for lending me your bike, I've brought it back for you and here's £5,000 for the bother. Can I buy you a drink?".
Such is the joy of fantasy. No, the reality is that not having had insurance for the bike, it will take me a few weeks of careful shopping to find one that was just as cheap and perfect for all my needs. It was a cheap bike, but it was perfect for my needs. A quick look around on the Internet was not greatly encouraging. The bicycle industry has been chopping and changing its bike models every year for the last decade, it seems, and they don't even make things that they sold off the shelf 3 years ago. I don't like new-fangled things unless they are elegantly simple and functional. Any accountant or economist would immediately deduce, that there needs to be an extra cost added to the actual Purchase Price: the Cost of Buying something Perfect for your Needs.
So the total cost of purchase should include not just the Purchase Price that you will hand over to the seller, but also the Cost of Buying something perfect for your needs.
Reality is no fun, is it? It's too much like the life of a proper accountant, not even the thieving Enron-type of accountant (Arthur Andersen were their accountants, and Accenture has also been in the news lately for their questionable practices?).
So here's the rest of the fantasy:
"Well mate, if I didn't get to borrow your bike, I wouldn't have been able to nip down to my boat in time to catch the tide and sail across to France. It was a lifesaver, because I managed to catch the horse show in Normandy, and I got to see some beauties there. You like horses? Well, one of the factories I own, you see, makes horse carriages and carts. You like that? Well tomorrow I will send a pony trap to collect you and take you down to the factory, and you can pick whatever job you fancy doing. Now let's get another pint down, and then go downtown and get some grub! Here we go! Cheers!".
Oh fantasy. Oh god. Oh get real.
Today, I am getting on with things. It would be wonderful if the police could recover my bike, with all its bits, but the chances of that happening are less than that of the thief coming along and saying,
"Here mate, thanks for lending me your bike, I've brought it back for you and here's £5,000 for the bother. Can I buy you a drink?".
Such is the joy of fantasy. No, the reality is that not having had insurance for the bike, it will take me a few weeks of careful shopping to find one that was just as cheap and perfect for all my needs. It was a cheap bike, but it was perfect for my needs. A quick look around on the Internet was not greatly encouraging. The bicycle industry has been chopping and changing its bike models every year for the last decade, it seems, and they don't even make things that they sold off the shelf 3 years ago. I don't like new-fangled things unless they are elegantly simple and functional. Any accountant or economist would immediately deduce, that there needs to be an extra cost added to the actual Purchase Price: the Cost of Buying something Perfect for your Needs.
So the total cost of purchase should include not just the Purchase Price that you will hand over to the seller, but also the Cost of Buying something perfect for your needs.
Reality is no fun, is it? It's too much like the life of a proper accountant, not even the thieving Enron-type of accountant (Arthur Andersen were their accountants, and Accenture has also been in the news lately for their questionable practices?).
So here's the rest of the fantasy:
"Well mate, if I didn't get to borrow your bike, I wouldn't have been able to nip down to my boat in time to catch the tide and sail across to France. It was a lifesaver, because I managed to catch the horse show in Normandy, and I got to see some beauties there. You like horses? Well, one of the factories I own, you see, makes horse carriages and carts. You like that? Well tomorrow I will send a pony trap to collect you and take you down to the factory, and you can pick whatever job you fancy doing. Now let's get another pint down, and then go downtown and get some grub! Here we go! Cheers!".
Oh fantasy. Oh god. Oh get real.
Friday, July 18, 2008
A week of Voices from the Past
What is it about this week? Is there some outrageous astrological influence? I get three phone calls in one week, from people I have not heard from in ages, and in one case, years.
There is something about voices from the past, when they ring you up. They seem to expect to pick up where they left off. But where have they been? Perhaps I needed them before now. Clearly they only think they need me now. I resent it.
A friend in need is a friend indeed. These distant friends are not available, and so they are not there when I need them. So they cannot be friends.
In our globalized world, this delusion that the telephone is a substitute for being nearby, is like a virus in the software of society. I would rather have one good friend at my side than to have 10 "friends" on the telephone, or 100 "friends" on Facebook. This has become difficult, because 90% of people are busy believing in their Facebook "friends", and the other 10% of people believe in their telephone "friends".
You don't have to be a Catholic priest to understand that this is a recipe for unhappiness and social disaster.
No, you just have to be starved and tortured by being dumped onto a desert island for a whole week with only just enough water, and absolutely no food, and no electricity, and hence no telephone or the internet. And no guarantee that someone will rescue you at the end of the week. Then you will understand.. You? Whomever I mean by YOU.
Oh, by the way, you don't even get to take any Desert Island Discs with you, because there is no wind-up or solar-powered record player. And no, you don't even get a copy of the Bible, but you can still write in the sand, and read what you write.
There is something about voices from the past, when they ring you up. They seem to expect to pick up where they left off. But where have they been? Perhaps I needed them before now. Clearly they only think they need me now. I resent it.
A friend in need is a friend indeed. These distant friends are not available, and so they are not there when I need them. So they cannot be friends.
In our globalized world, this delusion that the telephone is a substitute for being nearby, is like a virus in the software of society. I would rather have one good friend at my side than to have 10 "friends" on the telephone, or 100 "friends" on Facebook. This has become difficult, because 90% of people are busy believing in their Facebook "friends", and the other 10% of people believe in their telephone "friends".
You don't have to be a Catholic priest to understand that this is a recipe for unhappiness and social disaster.
No, you just have to be starved and tortured by being dumped onto a desert island for a whole week with only just enough water, and absolutely no food, and no electricity, and hence no telephone or the internet. And no guarantee that someone will rescue you at the end of the week. Then you will understand.. You? Whomever I mean by YOU.
Oh, by the way, you don't even get to take any Desert Island Discs with you, because there is no wind-up or solar-powered record player. And no, you don't even get a copy of the Bible, but you can still write in the sand, and read what you write.
Walk softly and carry a big roll of carpet
If I had not walked,
I would not have heard the grasshoppers and crickets, whirring away in the grass despite this hopelessly grey summer.
If I had not walked,
I would not have gone into the shop and found the best cheap padlock I could find.
If I had not walked,
I would not have picked up the roll of carpet and walked it home, much to the amusement of those I encountered.
If I had not walked,
I would have ridden my bicycle, but since the idiot that stole it has not returned it, and the police have not gotten around to looking at the report,
I could not ride my bicycle.
That bicycle is gone. Hope has a limited time offer. Despair's sale is over.
Forgetting is one of the most useful by-products of an un-inhibited emotional reaction series including depression. Depression should never be stopped or dragged out with stupid things like Prozac. Depression should be processed to its own comfortable conclusion.
That bike is gone. So are you, so you keep reminding me.
Forget, forget, forgotten.
Postscript
If I had not walked, I would not have a sore foot.
If I could forget, then I would have no wishful thoughts. Then at last, I could be just like these loveless, soulless people? If I cannot beat them, should I join them? If I cannot join them, should I not leave them?
They who cannot love, are they not machines? Should they be ridden like bicycles, until they are worn down, or should they be loved until they learn how to love?
When you remind me that we must move on, that angers me.
How much harder it is to move on when there is not even a decent bicycle to move with.
How hard it is to move without a bicycle.
All those people who refuse to move without their cars, or a bus, or a train, or a taxi, or even a horse. How lazy they are.
To move on, with only your two feet, is something that homo sapiens var. industrialis has lost the ability to do, and I am unsure that I can still do it.
Once, I too had a car, and sat in a glass workhouse, not a greenhouse,
being watered, nurtured, fertilized,
without ever having to use my own two feet.
The cars are gone, now the bike is gone, but I still have my two feet.
God help me when they are gone, for the people in London
whom to me have always seemed the bravest,
are the elderly infirm
who struggle on foot through the uncaring and pushy
who struggle on foot to cross the road against the traffic
who struggle on foot to drag their shopping.
And never does someone else of their own age,
or indeed of any age,
driving past in their car,
stop and offer them a lift.
For this is how London has been ever since the Eighties, and even now, even with all the wealth that China exports to us, and all the handouts that the government has thrown into the wind, it is the same, except that fewer of those elderly poor are English.
I would not have heard the grasshoppers and crickets, whirring away in the grass despite this hopelessly grey summer.
If I had not walked,
I would not have gone into the shop and found the best cheap padlock I could find.
If I had not walked,
I would not have picked up the roll of carpet and walked it home, much to the amusement of those I encountered.
If I had not walked,
I would have ridden my bicycle, but since the idiot that stole it has not returned it, and the police have not gotten around to looking at the report,
I could not ride my bicycle.
That bicycle is gone. Hope has a limited time offer. Despair's sale is over.
Forgetting is one of the most useful by-products of an un-inhibited emotional reaction series including depression. Depression should never be stopped or dragged out with stupid things like Prozac. Depression should be processed to its own comfortable conclusion.
That bike is gone. So are you, so you keep reminding me.
Forget, forget, forgotten.
Postscript
If I had not walked, I would not have a sore foot.
If I could forget, then I would have no wishful thoughts. Then at last, I could be just like these loveless, soulless people? If I cannot beat them, should I join them? If I cannot join them, should I not leave them?
They who cannot love, are they not machines? Should they be ridden like bicycles, until they are worn down, or should they be loved until they learn how to love?
When you remind me that we must move on, that angers me.
How much harder it is to move on when there is not even a decent bicycle to move with.
How hard it is to move without a bicycle.
All those people who refuse to move without their cars, or a bus, or a train, or a taxi, or even a horse. How lazy they are.
To move on, with only your two feet, is something that homo sapiens var. industrialis has lost the ability to do, and I am unsure that I can still do it.
Once, I too had a car, and sat in a glass workhouse, not a greenhouse,
being watered, nurtured, fertilized,
without ever having to use my own two feet.
The cars are gone, now the bike is gone, but I still have my two feet.
God help me when they are gone, for the people in London
whom to me have always seemed the bravest,
are the elderly infirm
who struggle on foot through the uncaring and pushy
who struggle on foot to cross the road against the traffic
who struggle on foot to drag their shopping.
And never does someone else of their own age,
or indeed of any age,
driving past in their car,
stop and offer them a lift.
For this is how London has been ever since the Eighties, and even now, even with all the wealth that China exports to us, and all the handouts that the government has thrown into the wind, it is the same, except that fewer of those elderly poor are English.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Stop. You have nothing to go with.
Yesterday, I was getting ready to go off to the allotment. Warm day, though still cloudy and drab, I actually remembered that my water bottle for the bicycle needed filling.
So I went to get the bottle from the bicycle. I opened my front door
I looked.
I didn't see.
Shock. I quickly looked inside to see if I had kept my bicycle indoors for once.
No.
It was stolen.
I was unbelievably upset. I was shocked. Horrified. Then distraught. I don't think I cried this easily over my father's death. This was yesterday. I am still progressing through the emotional stages of anger, self-blame, denial, despair, and depression. People who don't have emotions, or who who belong to civilizations/cultures that repress many emotions cannot understand this, and cannot see the point of it.
They may as well be the loveless soulless criminals who stole the bicycle on which so much of my life has depended, and was depending upon. What loveless soulless people. I was ready to bid them goodbye forever. For there are many strains of humans that have survived, multiplied and prospered on a reproductive method of loveless rape and loveless child-bearing. Indeed, the barbarians that had the Tower of London, and an empire, then the First World War, and the Second World War, could hardly yet have been removed from the gene pool of the British population.
And I, like so many fools before me, having once been in awe of this barbarous animalism, like a moth to a flame, have now for so long been living in a civilization and a culture that knows no love, that I have had my fill of it.
Stop. You have nothing to go with.
In the English language, love is a four letter word, and even to the intellectuals and academics who chance upon this website, the mere mention of it invites as much contempt as a Flash sex video on "Doing it with your dog".
Stop. You have nothing to go with.
What have I, where do I have to go, and when did I start?
So I went to get the bottle from the bicycle. I opened my front door
I looked.
I didn't see.
Shock. I quickly looked inside to see if I had kept my bicycle indoors for once.
No.
It was stolen.
I was unbelievably upset. I was shocked. Horrified. Then distraught. I don't think I cried this easily over my father's death. This was yesterday. I am still progressing through the emotional stages of anger, self-blame, denial, despair, and depression. People who don't have emotions, or who who belong to civilizations/cultures that repress many emotions cannot understand this, and cannot see the point of it.
They may as well be the loveless soulless criminals who stole the bicycle on which so much of my life has depended, and was depending upon. What loveless soulless people. I was ready to bid them goodbye forever. For there are many strains of humans that have survived, multiplied and prospered on a reproductive method of loveless rape and loveless child-bearing. Indeed, the barbarians that had the Tower of London, and an empire, then the First World War, and the Second World War, could hardly yet have been removed from the gene pool of the British population.
And I, like so many fools before me, having once been in awe of this barbarous animalism, like a moth to a flame, have now for so long been living in a civilization and a culture that knows no love, that I have had my fill of it.
Stop. You have nothing to go with.
In the English language, love is a four letter word, and even to the intellectuals and academics who chance upon this website, the mere mention of it invites as much contempt as a Flash sex video on "Doing it with your dog".
Stop. You have nothing to go with.
What have I, where do I have to go, and when did I start?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Guess Who is the new chair of the National Trust
As if he needs any more publicity. This man has more opinions than references, was an editor of The Economist at the height of Thatcherism, and because all newspapers are just as bad as each other, is now a columnist at the Guardian, as well as the Murdoch.
Yes, I first noticed his writing back in the Eighties because he launched a pro-dioxin tirade which was clearly ignorant both about Nature, Science, and the selfishness of Humanity.
With age he has become more moderate, and has been most noted for his focus on the architectural heritage of English Churches. Nonetheless, he seems to know nothing about life, but is one of those people who spews out words endlessly, even more quickly than he consumes them. Is it not fitting then that he has taken such a shine to bricks and mortar conservation, which until now has been achieved in isolation from cultural conservation?
The National Trust is so desperate for publicity that they think he will be a boon? The National Trust doesn't need publicity. It needs reality. It has been run by a host of affluent molly-coddled retired people who live in fantasy. Their fantasy has been to an olde worlde time of architecture and landscape. To a tourist, this is wonderful, compared to some other countries in the world. Indeed so. But where is the economy and culture of the people who lived with this architecture and landscape? Do you see it at Tesco, or on the M4, or in your office? Does it exist in London or Ludlow?
Back in the Eighties, Britain was accused of being like a giant Disney World. Never more so than now, when all its local culture has died out and been replaced by people who drive everywhere, watch TV or Youtube, and can't listen to anybody because of their Ipod.
What is the National Trust to do? Well, has Simon Jenkins grown up enough that he sees the error of his ways? Like the archetypal Tory Boy, when he was young and didn't care, he had no heart, and now that he is old and cares too much, he hasn't got a brain. For he will care and rhapsodize about the architecture of masonry, and because of his background in economics, he cannot see that the architecture of modern economics has killed the architecture of civilization and culture that needs to go with the masonry.
Yes, I first noticed his writing back in the Eighties because he launched a pro-dioxin tirade which was clearly ignorant both about Nature, Science, and the selfishness of Humanity.
With age he has become more moderate, and has been most noted for his focus on the architectural heritage of English Churches. Nonetheless, he seems to know nothing about life, but is one of those people who spews out words endlessly, even more quickly than he consumes them. Is it not fitting then that he has taken such a shine to bricks and mortar conservation, which until now has been achieved in isolation from cultural conservation?
The National Trust is so desperate for publicity that they think he will be a boon? The National Trust doesn't need publicity. It needs reality. It has been run by a host of affluent molly-coddled retired people who live in fantasy. Their fantasy has been to an olde worlde time of architecture and landscape. To a tourist, this is wonderful, compared to some other countries in the world. Indeed so. But where is the economy and culture of the people who lived with this architecture and landscape? Do you see it at Tesco, or on the M4, or in your office? Does it exist in London or Ludlow?
Back in the Eighties, Britain was accused of being like a giant Disney World. Never more so than now, when all its local culture has died out and been replaced by people who drive everywhere, watch TV or Youtube, and can't listen to anybody because of their Ipod.
What is the National Trust to do? Well, has Simon Jenkins grown up enough that he sees the error of his ways? Like the archetypal Tory Boy, when he was young and didn't care, he had no heart, and now that he is old and cares too much, he hasn't got a brain. For he will care and rhapsodize about the architecture of masonry, and because of his background in economics, he cannot see that the architecture of modern economics has killed the architecture of civilization and culture that needs to go with the masonry.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
IUCN Species Survival Group
There is a United Nations for one species of 7 billion people, who show no sign of becoming extinct.
There is also an IUCN for all the other millions of species, many of which are becoming extinct because mankind drives them out by taking up most of the food, space and water, and leaving behind poisons, pollutions, and people.
The annual budget of the IUCN is very small. Less than half a billion dollars. Even London's annual budget controlled by the Mayor is 9 billion bounds.
That's how much humanity cares about Living Things. Human beings are common, and caring for humanity is so common that even people who love dogs and horses only love them because they project human personalities upon them.
For a laugh, from Why don't you Blog?
There is also an IUCN for all the other millions of species, many of which are becoming extinct because mankind drives them out by taking up most of the food, space and water, and leaving behind poisons, pollutions, and people.
The annual budget of the IUCN is very small. Less than half a billion dollars. Even London's annual budget controlled by the Mayor is 9 billion bounds.
That's how much humanity cares about Living Things. Human beings are common, and caring for humanity is so common that even people who love dogs and horses only love them because they project human personalities upon them.
For a laugh, from Why don't you Blog?
Obviously, for creationists it’s a simple matter to solve. Just pray loads to the big guy to create another few thousand species. That’s bound to work. And anyway, humans are above the animal kingdom aren’t they so we probably don’t depend on biodiversity to survive. Etc.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Boring Drab Weather and Entrenched Employment Protection
Anybody who came to England for the first time in 2006, when the El Nino was on full, would have thought they had stumbled on the perfect paradise to hide away if Global Warming was becoming true.
Well this summer, the El Nino and La Nina effects are gone at last, and the cloudy, unpredictable, sometimes chilly, grey and wet weather have reminded me that this is much the typical English summer. If you get a sunny day, you grab it, because it might be the last one you see for a long, long time.
A small local Chinese Grocery supermarket that opened up only a year ago is closing down and they say they're going back to China. Quelle surprise, as Julian Clary would say! It doesn't take people long to figure out now that there's no point in hanging around in England, when things are so much better at home.
Walking down one of the nearby major High Streets last week, I counted at least 5 shops that were closing down. Nearly every shop had a sale on, even though summer sales do not usually start until end of July.
The recession is on everyone's minds and lips. It may have taken 6 months longer for it to happen than in the USA, but it has gotten through to the man in the street. This time round, the property market went down before the retail business, and before the job market. I suppose that should have been predictable, since the property market has been the main engine of the UK economy over the last 6 years.
Oh yes, the job market is disappearing, and of course, the private sector has gone first. The public sector is protected by unions and endless employment law, and with a Labour Government in power, there is no chance that they will have to absorb cutbacks. Nonetheless, the unions will still fight for above inflation pay increases, even though they are lucky to have jobs, when all the people outside the public sector are losing theirs and have no new jobs to go to.
Yes, if there were an election in 6 months time, the Conservatives would sweep into power, and things would be sufficiently bad that they could probably do the one thing that nobody has dared to do for 30 years:
Remove enough employment protection so that it is quick and easy to remove unproductive and no longer required employees.
You see, despite all the reform from Thatcherism, this was never actually achieved in legislation. No, the only way to get rid of employees was to make them redundant, and this required organisations to re-structure themselves, or be slyly driven into bankruptcy, just to get rid of dead wood. The other ruses by which dead wood could be removed were much more roundabout, but became so common that they defined corporate business practice from the late Eighties to the early Noughties. They were of course, firstly Privatisation, and then secondly, Outsourcing.
Privatisation was essential to revitalising the European and especially the UK economy. Anyone from overseas who saw in the early Eighties, the European PTT (post and telecoms) organisations, for example, used to laugh their heads off at their backwardness, incompetence, inefficiency and lack of productivity.
Outsourcing was a far more ridiculous and devious solution to the need for organisational restructuring while keeping Seventies employment protection. It was also far less effective, because TUPE was upgraded to protect the rights of employees who were part of the organisation that was sold to an outsourcing company. What resulted was that dead wood ended up being transferred to an external outsourcing company, and only by extensive attrition and sidelining and eventual redundancies were useless and ineffective employees eventually removed from being paid to do nothing, or worse, being paid to do harm to the rest of their organisation.
None of the outsourcing would have been possible if Britain had not welcomed with open arms every illegal immigrant who was willing to work without being able to answer back to their boss in English. Yes, they took their pay, and didn't complain, which made them far more desirable than local employees. Of course, this eventually pissed off everyone in the country, because guess what? We have had a Labour Government since 1997, and this was what they were encouraging.
The French might only now be catching up with the UK, but the UK still has employment protection that defies economic sense. In this recession, I think the Tories when they take over the government, might be given the democratic power to remove the last nonsensical employment protection from the rulebooks. Is this a good thing? Yes, but it is sadly much too late. All that employment protection was the reason why British manufacturing stayed so uncompetitive that today, none of it is owned and managed by themselves, and what there is left of manufacturing survives because of factory robotics.
Well, robotics use oil, and human beings need physical work, so this is a silly state of affairs. This is the time to ask for a democratic mandate to remove obstructive employment protection laws. This can be done now because all the industry is gone, and because the welfare and social security system can be kept operational without the need to keep employees in jobs where they are producing nothing, or even less than nothing.
Well this summer, the El Nino and La Nina effects are gone at last, and the cloudy, unpredictable, sometimes chilly, grey and wet weather have reminded me that this is much the typical English summer. If you get a sunny day, you grab it, because it might be the last one you see for a long, long time.
A small local Chinese Grocery supermarket that opened up only a year ago is closing down and they say they're going back to China. Quelle surprise, as Julian Clary would say! It doesn't take people long to figure out now that there's no point in hanging around in England, when things are so much better at home.
Walking down one of the nearby major High Streets last week, I counted at least 5 shops that were closing down. Nearly every shop had a sale on, even though summer sales do not usually start until end of July.
The recession is on everyone's minds and lips. It may have taken 6 months longer for it to happen than in the USA, but it has gotten through to the man in the street. This time round, the property market went down before the retail business, and before the job market. I suppose that should have been predictable, since the property market has been the main engine of the UK economy over the last 6 years.
Oh yes, the job market is disappearing, and of course, the private sector has gone first. The public sector is protected by unions and endless employment law, and with a Labour Government in power, there is no chance that they will have to absorb cutbacks. Nonetheless, the unions will still fight for above inflation pay increases, even though they are lucky to have jobs, when all the people outside the public sector are losing theirs and have no new jobs to go to.
Yes, if there were an election in 6 months time, the Conservatives would sweep into power, and things would be sufficiently bad that they could probably do the one thing that nobody has dared to do for 30 years:
Remove enough employment protection so that it is quick and easy to remove unproductive and no longer required employees.
You see, despite all the reform from Thatcherism, this was never actually achieved in legislation. No, the only way to get rid of employees was to make them redundant, and this required organisations to re-structure themselves, or be slyly driven into bankruptcy, just to get rid of dead wood. The other ruses by which dead wood could be removed were much more roundabout, but became so common that they defined corporate business practice from the late Eighties to the early Noughties. They were of course, firstly Privatisation, and then secondly, Outsourcing.
Privatisation was essential to revitalising the European and especially the UK economy. Anyone from overseas who saw in the early Eighties, the European PTT (post and telecoms) organisations, for example, used to laugh their heads off at their backwardness, incompetence, inefficiency and lack of productivity.
Outsourcing was a far more ridiculous and devious solution to the need for organisational restructuring while keeping Seventies employment protection. It was also far less effective, because TUPE was upgraded to protect the rights of employees who were part of the organisation that was sold to an outsourcing company. What resulted was that dead wood ended up being transferred to an external outsourcing company, and only by extensive attrition and sidelining and eventual redundancies were useless and ineffective employees eventually removed from being paid to do nothing, or worse, being paid to do harm to the rest of their organisation.
None of the outsourcing would have been possible if Britain had not welcomed with open arms every illegal immigrant who was willing to work without being able to answer back to their boss in English. Yes, they took their pay, and didn't complain, which made them far more desirable than local employees. Of course, this eventually pissed off everyone in the country, because guess what? We have had a Labour Government since 1997, and this was what they were encouraging.
The French might only now be catching up with the UK, but the UK still has employment protection that defies economic sense. In this recession, I think the Tories when they take over the government, might be given the democratic power to remove the last nonsensical employment protection from the rulebooks. Is this a good thing? Yes, but it is sadly much too late. All that employment protection was the reason why British manufacturing stayed so uncompetitive that today, none of it is owned and managed by themselves, and what there is left of manufacturing survives because of factory robotics.
Well, robotics use oil, and human beings need physical work, so this is a silly state of affairs. This is the time to ask for a democratic mandate to remove obstructive employment protection laws. This can be done now because all the industry is gone, and because the welfare and social security system can be kept operational without the need to keep employees in jobs where they are producing nothing, or even less than nothing.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday to you
You're looking so well
Whatever bent your wheel
Seeing you makes me melt.
So even I cannot deny
I am still in love with you.
Happy Birthday to you.
You're looking so well
Whatever bent your wheel
Seeing you makes me melt.
So even I cannot deny
I am still in love with you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Dance Powered Electricity and Welfare Powered Landlording
Mr Charalambous, a Greek-Cypriot who owns 1,000 properties in north London as well as land in Europe,
So now you can clean your conscience by turning green. To his credit, at least he is doing some good, and is doing it publicly, because there are many other wealthy landlords who keep a low profile and accumulate wealth for dynastic ambitions.
I remember in the Eighties when Landlording in Britain was something despised and condemned by all idealistic politicised youth.
Since then, we have had endless growth in landlording, effectively powered by the insatiable need for social housing. Tax is taken from some people, and the government has spent it on housing other people. For despite the growth in Housing Associations and new home development, the rental market for homes suitable for welfare-dependent mothers of many children has been fed by years of extreme left-wing idealism about the universality of human rights, particularly the right to housing, and this has mostly been focussed in the perpetually Labour boroughs of London, such as Hackney, Haringey, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Newham, etc.
New Labour was distinct from old Labour in that it spent years ridding itself of this base of alienated idealistic extremists. The borough first to benefit from this clean-out was Newham, partly because its MPs were part of or at least close to the religious group that formed the Blair government. Consequently Newham was one of the first boroughs to have its own elected Mayor. Since then, the placement of the 2012 Olympics in Newham has extended the changes to the extent that old Labour, in Newham, is effectively gone, and probably retired to Morecambe Bay.
The other Labour boroughs have also caught up, although they took a long time about it. Haringey, which is in North London had the benefit of wealthy middle-class neighbourhoods around Alexandra Park, the Ladder, and even near Turnpike Lane. Haringey is the undisputed centre of London's Turkish and Greek-Cypriot communities. That they chose to live next to each other is surprising but typical in London: in East London in the late 20th century, Tamils, Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs chose to live as close to each other as is possible without having to actually admit to liking each other. Since the 21st century started the influx of East Europeans from Poland, Russia, the Ukraine, and Bulgaria has predominated in London, although there has also been a steady flow of immigrants from every class level in every place in the world.
Now they can all come here to dance up a storm, or have lots of babies and get social housing that will power a landlord's empire, which because of welfare idealism and social housing, is still more recession-proof than sleeping on a solid block of gold.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
A Soggy Wet Day in a soggy week in a Messed up Year of Weather
What a soggy, soggy day! Once upon a time, if I saw someone cycling in this rain, I would have thought them simply mad, or just plain stupid. Yet here I've been, into town and back, through the unrelenting rain. So soaked that I had to stop to drain my shoes and wring my socks out half way.
At least it was warm. The last time I biked this much in such wet weather was in cold stormy winds in December.
This week has been wet, wet, wet. Aside from a bit of rain at the end of May, it has been relatively dry since April, with some 2 week stretches of scorching drought.
The weather has been perfect for the raspberries, which have been blasting away for over 4 weeks, but are now near their end. I have eaten so many raspberries every day that I don't mind a break! The variety I have, Glen Moy, sometimes crops a second time in September/October, and it looks like if it stays warm with enough sunshine, that shall happen again this year.
But the disaster has been the plums. The local yellow plum has failed miserably because of the warm February, followed by a cold March and April, with the heavy snowfall on April 6. What flowering there was started in February, but never got pollinated, because there weren't enough bees around, and what did get pollinated seems to have fallen off from the snow and cold that followed. So this year I will be having less than 10% of the amount of plums I had last year.
Climate change? There is no way that Genetically Modified Anything could ever be designed to cope for this degree of unpredictability in the weather. It takes a few years to design and distribute any new variety of food crop. With weather as changeable as this, the only 100% reliable form of agriculture is to grow mixed pasture and graze animals on it. Just when the global food shortage is telling us to eat less meat, especially pork and chicken, as these are fed on grain stocks.
Other gardening events. I slashed my kiwi plant in a spate of madness 3 weeks ago, removing every leaf and branch until only the main stems were left. Kiwi plants grow to an unmanageable size, and I should never have planted it as I don't have that amount of space. The plant bled profusely for the first 3 days! I couldn't figure out where all the drip was coming from, until I noticed that the wounds were bleeding from 3 main arteries where the most recent shoots had been thrusting from. It was buckets of kiwi sap, if I had collected it, until it finally stopped completely after 5 days. The sheer osmotic pressure from the powerful root system was awesome to behold. I wondered if the thing would die, but fortunately it has survived and is putting out new shoots. A 6 year old kiwi plant, attacked ruthlessly in mid-season. If the damn thing would only fruit just once, but they are sexual, and this is only the lonely female, with no male around.
The clay soil of the allotment has been a lesson in humility. To grow food on untreated, unimproved clay soil is nearly impossible, as all the seeds and varieties that are bred for human consumption assume that you have John Innes loam. Bah! The broad beans are yielding only one third of what they should, while beans, squashes and tomatoes grow so slowly that at times I have been crestfallen. There is a very narrow window of fertility in clay soil, and that is when the moisture content is just right, which seems to be only 25% of the time. The rest of the time, clay is either too dry and hard, or too waterlogged, for normal vegetables to grow, even if you give it water when it dries up. Even weeds struggle! Only plants that bide their time and have plenty of time to bide can grow well in clay soil, and in the English growing season, nobody has ever bothered to breed vegetables suited to clay soils. Commercially, they would just plough it often, then dump lots of nitrogen fertilizer on it and grow wheat, potatoes or grass on it. They wouldn't bother using it for any other food you find at the supermarket.
I deduce that it will take another 2 years of cultivation before this soil reaches a reasonable level of productivity. Meanwhile, if it weren't for the Tescos, Sainsburys, Asdas, and Morrisons of the world, I would be starving as badly as any African. It makes me sick how ignorant people are about how food is produced. If I were a farmer on the Archers, I would be tempted to let the land lie fallow and let the population wonder where the food has gone. The English people are quite happy to cover up England's bountiful arable lands with concrete roads, parking lots, airport runways, shopping malls, suburban housing developments and industrial parks. The United Kingdom is only 60% self-sufficient in food, but is more than 600% self-sufficient in proselytizing about economic globalization and international human rights. The fools that bang on about how other countries should be run, drive to their supermarket and stuff their cars with plastic bagfuls of food flown from parts of the world where people are starving and malnutritioned. Being overfed, indolent and even obese, they don't need to eat half as much as they do, and even worse than that, they throw away half of what they buy. Is there any way to teach these people a lesson? Maybe they should be sent out to Africa or Haiti or Bangladesh and forced to live on half a portion of rice per day. That will be the day. We don't even do that to mass murderers in prison.
At least it was warm. The last time I biked this much in such wet weather was in cold stormy winds in December.
This week has been wet, wet, wet. Aside from a bit of rain at the end of May, it has been relatively dry since April, with some 2 week stretches of scorching drought.
The weather has been perfect for the raspberries, which have been blasting away for over 4 weeks, but are now near their end. I have eaten so many raspberries every day that I don't mind a break! The variety I have, Glen Moy, sometimes crops a second time in September/October, and it looks like if it stays warm with enough sunshine, that shall happen again this year.
But the disaster has been the plums. The local yellow plum has failed miserably because of the warm February, followed by a cold March and April, with the heavy snowfall on April 6. What flowering there was started in February, but never got pollinated, because there weren't enough bees around, and what did get pollinated seems to have fallen off from the snow and cold that followed. So this year I will be having less than 10% of the amount of plums I had last year.
Climate change? There is no way that Genetically Modified Anything could ever be designed to cope for this degree of unpredictability in the weather. It takes a few years to design and distribute any new variety of food crop. With weather as changeable as this, the only 100% reliable form of agriculture is to grow mixed pasture and graze animals on it. Just when the global food shortage is telling us to eat less meat, especially pork and chicken, as these are fed on grain stocks.
Other gardening events. I slashed my kiwi plant in a spate of madness 3 weeks ago, removing every leaf and branch until only the main stems were left. Kiwi plants grow to an unmanageable size, and I should never have planted it as I don't have that amount of space. The plant bled profusely for the first 3 days! I couldn't figure out where all the drip was coming from, until I noticed that the wounds were bleeding from 3 main arteries where the most recent shoots had been thrusting from. It was buckets of kiwi sap, if I had collected it, until it finally stopped completely after 5 days. The sheer osmotic pressure from the powerful root system was awesome to behold. I wondered if the thing would die, but fortunately it has survived and is putting out new shoots. A 6 year old kiwi plant, attacked ruthlessly in mid-season. If the damn thing would only fruit just once, but they are sexual, and this is only the lonely female, with no male around.
The clay soil of the allotment has been a lesson in humility. To grow food on untreated, unimproved clay soil is nearly impossible, as all the seeds and varieties that are bred for human consumption assume that you have John Innes loam. Bah! The broad beans are yielding only one third of what they should, while beans, squashes and tomatoes grow so slowly that at times I have been crestfallen. There is a very narrow window of fertility in clay soil, and that is when the moisture content is just right, which seems to be only 25% of the time. The rest of the time, clay is either too dry and hard, or too waterlogged, for normal vegetables to grow, even if you give it water when it dries up. Even weeds struggle! Only plants that bide their time and have plenty of time to bide can grow well in clay soil, and in the English growing season, nobody has ever bothered to breed vegetables suited to clay soils. Commercially, they would just plough it often, then dump lots of nitrogen fertilizer on it and grow wheat, potatoes or grass on it. They wouldn't bother using it for any other food you find at the supermarket.
I deduce that it will take another 2 years of cultivation before this soil reaches a reasonable level of productivity. Meanwhile, if it weren't for the Tescos, Sainsburys, Asdas, and Morrisons of the world, I would be starving as badly as any African. It makes me sick how ignorant people are about how food is produced. If I were a farmer on the Archers, I would be tempted to let the land lie fallow and let the population wonder where the food has gone. The English people are quite happy to cover up England's bountiful arable lands with concrete roads, parking lots, airport runways, shopping malls, suburban housing developments and industrial parks. The United Kingdom is only 60% self-sufficient in food, but is more than 600% self-sufficient in proselytizing about economic globalization and international human rights. The fools that bang on about how other countries should be run, drive to their supermarket and stuff their cars with plastic bagfuls of food flown from parts of the world where people are starving and malnutritioned. Being overfed, indolent and even obese, they don't need to eat half as much as they do, and even worse than that, they throw away half of what they buy. Is there any way to teach these people a lesson? Maybe they should be sent out to Africa or Haiti or Bangladesh and forced to live on half a portion of rice per day. That will be the day. We don't even do that to mass murderers in prison.
Emotional Repression and Restraint and Cultivation
I have always thought that there should a science of the emotions within a culture. This is because it has been obvious to me for some time that every culture in the world can be defined according to the set (the mathematical meaning) of emotions that are cultivated, or alternatively repressed, or restrained.
Today I was looking up the definition of "passive aggression". Having grown up in the middle of popular psychology at its peak, like many people I have been surrounded by notions and terms of which I had a vague understanding. Wikipedia is weak on this one, so I prefer the Straight Dope and Medicine Plus, which nonetheless are at the top of the google. A quick browse through the other Google listings makes it fairly consistent.
It seems that here we have a typical example of the disaster that was 20th century psychology. The term passive aggression was coined by military people, and then borrowed by psychologists and labelled as a disorder, then was subsequently recognized as a natural behaviour which could be a disorder. Imagine if I said eating was a disorder, then subsequently acknowledged that eating was a natural behaviour, and only if you eat too much does eating become a disorder.
It also confirms that psychology in the 20th century developed as an attempt to mould people into conformance with a military organisation. Since then military organisations have been copied by every corporation and institution that I know, with variations of moderating attitudes that have arisen as civilization became wealthier and more liberal.
Nonetheless, as the Planet grapples with the friction between cultures that has been caused by globalization, there has never been more need for a science of the emotions of cultures. That Psychology has failed miserably in this field must be because it has dwelled for so long on its Protestant and Western European intellectual foundations.
Anybody who has ever opened his mind to other peoples and cultures knows that there are emotions practiced which differ in intensity and sometimes are entirely absent, or entirely novel.
Such a science would have to be fundamentally aware that human beings have evolved their emotions and uses of emotions separately, according to their geographical region, climate, ecosystem, and history of civilization.
The absurdity of my proposition is that since globalization has progressed so far, it is now nearly impossible to collect clean data for such a science. It would be more difficult and inexact than the recent efforts at identifying the heritage of DNA sequences, which is what the science of ethnology seems to have become.
So let's drop the notion of a science, and propose it as an art, a humanity. Consider the emotion of Anger. What happens when one culture, which approves and accepts open but non-violent displays of Anger, comes upon another culture, which denies it and represses it as far as possible until it explodes (in the familiar pattern of Passive Aggression)?
This is but one example. There is a world out there that needs to be understood. Whether the world progresses to an unsustainable fully Globalized unit or a sustainable de-globalized form, this sort of understanding is very important, and I do not think should be left to the Psychologists, or Spiritual/Religious leaders.
Today I was looking up the definition of "passive aggression". Having grown up in the middle of popular psychology at its peak, like many people I have been surrounded by notions and terms of which I had a vague understanding. Wikipedia is weak on this one, so I prefer the Straight Dope and Medicine Plus, which nonetheless are at the top of the google. A quick browse through the other Google listings makes it fairly consistent.
It seems that here we have a typical example of the disaster that was 20th century psychology. The term passive aggression was coined by military people, and then borrowed by psychologists and labelled as a disorder, then was subsequently recognized as a natural behaviour which could be a disorder. Imagine if I said eating was a disorder, then subsequently acknowledged that eating was a natural behaviour, and only if you eat too much does eating become a disorder.
It also confirms that psychology in the 20th century developed as an attempt to mould people into conformance with a military organisation. Since then military organisations have been copied by every corporation and institution that I know, with variations of moderating attitudes that have arisen as civilization became wealthier and more liberal.
Nonetheless, as the Planet grapples with the friction between cultures that has been caused by globalization, there has never been more need for a science of the emotions of cultures. That Psychology has failed miserably in this field must be because it has dwelled for so long on its Protestant and Western European intellectual foundations.
Anybody who has ever opened his mind to other peoples and cultures knows that there are emotions practiced which differ in intensity and sometimes are entirely absent, or entirely novel.
Such a science would have to be fundamentally aware that human beings have evolved their emotions and uses of emotions separately, according to their geographical region, climate, ecosystem, and history of civilization.
The absurdity of my proposition is that since globalization has progressed so far, it is now nearly impossible to collect clean data for such a science. It would be more difficult and inexact than the recent efforts at identifying the heritage of DNA sequences, which is what the science of ethnology seems to have become.
So let's drop the notion of a science, and propose it as an art, a humanity. Consider the emotion of Anger. What happens when one culture, which approves and accepts open but non-violent displays of Anger, comes upon another culture, which denies it and represses it as far as possible until it explodes (in the familiar pattern of Passive Aggression)?
This is but one example. There is a world out there that needs to be understood. Whether the world progresses to an unsustainable fully Globalized unit or a sustainable de-globalized form, this sort of understanding is very important, and I do not think should be left to the Psychologists, or Spiritual/Religious leaders.
Monday, July 07, 2008
The Scarecrows of Whatfield Suffolk in the Global Food Economy
A week away from the internet, and most other media, is a refreshing joy which I intend to extend. But while the cat's here, let the mice seer.
As I wandered through the arable farmlands of Suffolk on my bicycle, I came into a village and was greeted by a large doll sitting in somebody's garden. It was brown-faced with woolly hair and probably 4 feet long, and I thought I had passed through a time warp into a gollywog-loving age.
As I progressed, I found that several more houses had large dolls in their front gardens, all in different clothing, constructions, and colours, in various attidunal poses and with props. I began to imagine that I had come upon some retirement village for an order of lunatic witches. One memorable exhibit had two dolls sitting on a tandem bike, but that memory is a reflection of the mental bias of a proper cyclist.
The village at this end was a few twee chocolate-box cottages, some with thatched roofs, evidently inhabited by affluent retired upper-middle class types. The more modern,dowdy, apparently council-built part of The Street was not participating in the doll display.
Eventually I came upon a doll of a publican with props such as a bar, keg, stool and towel. Everything became clear. There was a sign/advertisement:Make a scarecrow, any style and display it in your front garden, from 28 June onwards until this weekend.
For this was the weekend of the village fete, and surely enough, what remains of blue-rinse culture (for that generation has nearly all died off) was driving in cars to the village fete, on the green by the school, with the requisite marquee. It is wonderful to see a village where community exists at all, and see evidence of the Church of England helping it along.
But wonderment is seldom left alone on Love and the Planet. I could have just used a digital camera to copy some images of these modern scarecrows onto the Internet for some Americans to ape. This would be too common, too lazy, and not what blogs are about.
No, no, because, today Gordon Brown, our beloved and sage Prime Minister whom has been manager of the United Kingdom economy since 1997, finally told his country "to stop wasting food", and to "waste not want not". I shall not waste my vomit on his contribution (and that of many Guardian readers, I want to add) to the wasteful globalized economy that Britain has been party to, where all manner of waste has been sent to the dump, the tip, to landfill, and worst of all, to China and Bangladesh etcetera where they have permanently poisoned with pollution hitherto organic human ecosystems. So let me hurry along.
Scarecrows in Suffolk. Well.... my examination of the fields I saw in Suffolk revealed that they are 99% arable (no livestock), and most commonly growing, in order of quantity, wheat, oats, oilseed rape, broad beans, turnips/swedes/beets, potatoes. Almost all the fields are industrially farmed, with large fields worthy of tractor management. I never saw one person in any field I passed, although I passed at least one tractor on the road. Interestingly, by the end of June, the oilseed rape was already in finaly ripening stage - all the leaves were gone and the plants were down to taking what was left in the roots and stems and putting it into the seeds. Why is this interesting? Because with nearly half of the summer season (see my earlier posting for an understanding of how summer should obviously be defined according to day-length) left to go, vast acreages are already spurning the energy that reaches Britain from the sun.
Scarecrows? What crows? None of the fields had much sign of insect life or soil life. The broad beans were the most unblemished plants I have ever seen, with nary a blackfly upon them, let alone a ladybird. Most of the wheat fields appeared to be the same commercial seed variety. The hedgerows provided just enough tree cover to fool the ignorant into believing they were living in a conserved rural landscape. How many crows do you expect to find here?
So now Whatfield, which clearly was named after its Fields of Wheat, has perverted what was once a useful and necessary activity into a community-building aesthetically pleasing fun activity.
Waste not, want not? The wealthy and retired middle classes invaded the rural settings of England. They saw the rural economies transform into the Tesco Economic Model of production, distribution and consumption. But now the best that they can do (and believe me, most villages in England are ghostly shells compared to Whatfield) is to make dolls if ever the crows should come back.
People who don't know where food comes from, will never give a damn about saving it. It is considered rude to tell people not to waste food, because in Britain they consider wasting time to be a greater crime than wasting food. Yet all the time they save is spent sitting in their cars, or on their sofas, or on their office chairs, producing nothing, while consuming the earth.
So it is, but not so be it. For so shall it not be. Recession? Bring it on. A global economic system runs on a global financial system, and only a few people in the global financial system have already triggered a global banking crisis. Just a few farmers could trigger a national food crisis. Scarecrows were once the ultimate definition of food security. Now food security depends on global capital flows, GM seed, globally manufactured pesticides and fertilizers, and keeping the rest of Evolution at bay (lest a fungus, virus, bacteria or insect should suddenly arise that wipes out the mono-culture wheat or rice around the world faster than you can say "call an agricultural scientist").
As I wandered through the arable farmlands of Suffolk on my bicycle, I came into a village and was greeted by a large doll sitting in somebody's garden. It was brown-faced with woolly hair and probably 4 feet long, and I thought I had passed through a time warp into a gollywog-loving age.
As I progressed, I found that several more houses had large dolls in their front gardens, all in different clothing, constructions, and colours, in various attidunal poses and with props. I began to imagine that I had come upon some retirement village for an order of lunatic witches. One memorable exhibit had two dolls sitting on a tandem bike, but that memory is a reflection of the mental bias of a proper cyclist.
The village at this end was a few twee chocolate-box cottages, some with thatched roofs, evidently inhabited by affluent retired upper-middle class types. The more modern,dowdy, apparently council-built part of The Street was not participating in the doll display.
Eventually I came upon a doll of a publican with props such as a bar, keg, stool and towel. Everything became clear. There was a sign/advertisement:Make a scarecrow, any style and display it in your front garden, from 28 June onwards until this weekend.
For this was the weekend of the village fete, and surely enough, what remains of blue-rinse culture (for that generation has nearly all died off) was driving in cars to the village fete, on the green by the school, with the requisite marquee. It is wonderful to see a village where community exists at all, and see evidence of the Church of England helping it along.
But wonderment is seldom left alone on Love and the Planet. I could have just used a digital camera to copy some images of these modern scarecrows onto the Internet for some Americans to ape. This would be too common, too lazy, and not what blogs are about.
No, no, because, today Gordon Brown, our beloved and sage Prime Minister whom has been manager of the United Kingdom economy since 1997, finally told his country "to stop wasting food", and to "waste not want not". I shall not waste my vomit on his contribution (and that of many Guardian readers, I want to add) to the wasteful globalized economy that Britain has been party to, where all manner of waste has been sent to the dump, the tip, to landfill, and worst of all, to China and Bangladesh etcetera where they have permanently poisoned with pollution hitherto organic human ecosystems. So let me hurry along.
Scarecrows in Suffolk. Well.... my examination of the fields I saw in Suffolk revealed that they are 99% arable (no livestock), and most commonly growing, in order of quantity, wheat, oats, oilseed rape, broad beans, turnips/swedes/beets, potatoes. Almost all the fields are industrially farmed, with large fields worthy of tractor management. I never saw one person in any field I passed, although I passed at least one tractor on the road. Interestingly, by the end of June, the oilseed rape was already in finaly ripening stage - all the leaves were gone and the plants were down to taking what was left in the roots and stems and putting it into the seeds. Why is this interesting? Because with nearly half of the summer season (see my earlier posting for an understanding of how summer should obviously be defined according to day-length) left to go, vast acreages are already spurning the energy that reaches Britain from the sun.
Scarecrows? What crows? None of the fields had much sign of insect life or soil life. The broad beans were the most unblemished plants I have ever seen, with nary a blackfly upon them, let alone a ladybird. Most of the wheat fields appeared to be the same commercial seed variety. The hedgerows provided just enough tree cover to fool the ignorant into believing they were living in a conserved rural landscape. How many crows do you expect to find here?
So now Whatfield, which clearly was named after its Fields of Wheat, has perverted what was once a useful and necessary activity into a community-building aesthetically pleasing fun activity.
Waste not, want not? The wealthy and retired middle classes invaded the rural settings of England. They saw the rural economies transform into the Tesco Economic Model of production, distribution and consumption. But now the best that they can do (and believe me, most villages in England are ghostly shells compared to Whatfield) is to make dolls if ever the crows should come back.
People who don't know where food comes from, will never give a damn about saving it. It is considered rude to tell people not to waste food, because in Britain they consider wasting time to be a greater crime than wasting food. Yet all the time they save is spent sitting in their cars, or on their sofas, or on their office chairs, producing nothing, while consuming the earth.
So it is, but not so be it. For so shall it not be. Recession? Bring it on. A global economic system runs on a global financial system, and only a few people in the global financial system have already triggered a global banking crisis. Just a few farmers could trigger a national food crisis. Scarecrows were once the ultimate definition of food security. Now food security depends on global capital flows, GM seed, globally manufactured pesticides and fertilizers, and keeping the rest of Evolution at bay (lest a fungus, virus, bacteria or insect should suddenly arise that wipes out the mono-culture wheat or rice around the world faster than you can say "call an agricultural scientist").
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
They don't cater for Bicycles built for Two
Lazy, lazy,
give me your answer true.
Am I crazy
to want to pedal for you?
It's not my belief in marriage
That makes me want such baggage.
But trains don't take my wedding cake,
And my bicycle built for two.
Copyright - Love and the Planet, June 2008.
We ride our bicycles alone. To ride tandem together is still difficult in post-liberal England. If you ride tandem, you cannot travel far. No train will take you. If we don't get very far on the tandem, or when the tandem breaks, we blame each other. When we ride our bikes alone, chances are, that only one bike would break at a time. When we ride our bikes alone, we get to ride our own way, our own trails, covering much more distance than we could on a tandem.
This is all metaphor. How do couples stay together even when it appears that the Whole has become lesser than the Sum of the Parts? Is coupledom so conditioned by Cultural Institutions and Peer Pressure that it persists despite failure? Does it persist through the Faith or the Hope that the Whole will improve, or does it persist through the perception of perpetual success. The Cultural Institutions responsible for sustaining these emotions collectively failed in the Sixties, and since then, have relied more on deaths than on births and marriages.
Or is it, once again, Evolutionary Nature, that some couples persist unthinkingly, obeying evolutionary instinct despite all the disincentives and obstacles placed before them by modern technological civilization?
These are the great questions of a post mid-summer day.
give me your answer true.
Am I crazy
to want to pedal for you?
It's not my belief in marriage
That makes me want such baggage.
But trains don't take my wedding cake,
And my bicycle built for two.
Copyright - Love and the Planet, June 2008.
We ride our bicycles alone. To ride tandem together is still difficult in post-liberal England. If you ride tandem, you cannot travel far. No train will take you. If we don't get very far on the tandem, or when the tandem breaks, we blame each other. When we ride our bikes alone, chances are, that only one bike would break at a time. When we ride our bikes alone, we get to ride our own way, our own trails, covering much more distance than we could on a tandem.
This is all metaphor. How do couples stay together even when it appears that the Whole has become lesser than the Sum of the Parts? Is coupledom so conditioned by Cultural Institutions and Peer Pressure that it persists despite failure? Does it persist through the Faith or the Hope that the Whole will improve, or does it persist through the perception of perpetual success. The Cultural Institutions responsible for sustaining these emotions collectively failed in the Sixties, and since then, have relied more on deaths than on births and marriages.
Or is it, once again, Evolutionary Nature, that some couples persist unthinkingly, obeying evolutionary instinct despite all the disincentives and obstacles placed before them by modern technological civilization?
These are the great questions of a post mid-summer day.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Political Shufflings of the Dominant British Economists
Can I be a bitch about this please? It is ridiculous that an insular and incestuous academic organisation such as the London School of Economics is now the most supreme modern exponent of the "Old Boys Network" that used to run Britain.
We can now comfort ourselves that the planet's tolerance of Human Economic Growth will be stabilized and moderated by a cerebral man born after World War 2, into the Liberal and Idealistic Baby-boomer generation, who can mull over grave thoughts affably in the ghetto-mentality confines of the Royal Opera House, the E.N.O, and Lords Cricket Ground.
Who said we want the Economists from the LSE to pilot our future? I didn't, and I haven't even heard anybody else asking the question! As individuals, we get to vote for one lousy MP, and that is the full extent of our democratic power. Why does everybody think democracy is so wonderful? The traditional institutions of the Church, the Press, and the Judiciary which were supposed to act as checks on the State do not seem to have any comprehension of what is going on here. This is a lovely example of how Democracy is just as prone to despotism, ignorance and negligence as other political systems. Or is the fact that we get to watch Big Brother on Television the ultimate proof that democracy is superior to blatant oligarchy?
I would like someone to expose and subject the London School of Economics to a ruthless analysis of its intellectual and political machinations. As a member of the public, I am not paid to do this, so where are the intelligent journalists that were all directed into Media Studies five years ago?
We can now comfort ourselves that the planet's tolerance of Human Economic Growth will be stabilized and moderated by a cerebral man born after World War 2, into the Liberal and Idealistic Baby-boomer generation, who can mull over grave thoughts affably in the ghetto-mentality confines of the Royal Opera House, the E.N.O, and Lords Cricket Ground.
Who said we want the Economists from the LSE to pilot our future? I didn't, and I haven't even heard anybody else asking the question! As individuals, we get to vote for one lousy MP, and that is the full extent of our democratic power. Why does everybody think democracy is so wonderful? The traditional institutions of the Church, the Press, and the Judiciary which were supposed to act as checks on the State do not seem to have any comprehension of what is going on here. This is a lovely example of how Democracy is just as prone to despotism, ignorance and negligence as other political systems. Or is the fact that we get to watch Big Brother on Television the ultimate proof that democracy is superior to blatant oligarchy?
I would like someone to expose and subject the London School of Economics to a ruthless analysis of its intellectual and political machinations. As a member of the public, I am not paid to do this, so where are the intelligent journalists that were all directed into Media Studies five years ago?
Charles Bean, the new deputy governor, is a respected economist with eight years experience at the Bank of England. Known as affable and cerebral, the fan of cricket and opera was a successful academic before being lured to Threadneedle Street. Born in 1953, he studied at Cambridge and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology before working at the Treasury, and then becoming professor of economics at the London School of Economics in 1990. - Graeme Wearden
Paul Tucker, the Bank of England's executive director for markets, is the frontrunner to be the first head of the central bank's new financial stability committee from next spring, when Sir John Gieve leaves. Tucker, 50, has long been considered a rising star. He has extensive financial markets experience, at the Bank and in the commercial banking world, and is well respected in the City and internationally. He has also been on the Bank's rate-setting committee since 2002 so has extensive experience of monetary policy. Some suggest he could replace Mervyn King as governor in five years' time. - Ashley Seager
Friday, June 20, 2008
Will Hutton - a typical over-informed globalist journalist?
Have started to read his book, The Writing on the Wall, China and the West in the 21st century. Don't buy it, because I disagree with people running out to buy books and then ingesting them without applying sufficient criticism.
Not having read much of it yet, I am about to hazard a guess that he is an economist by training, and hence belongs to the Simon Jenkins school of journalism. I will now check Will Hutton out on Wikipedia. Lo and behold, I am nearly 100% spot on: introduced to A level economics, worked in equity sales, and then went to do an MBA, he is a governor of the London School of Economics, amongst other things.
How predictable. The intellectual pedigree of economists should be subjected to more ruthless analysis than currently exists, because economists have for the last few decades been allowed to wield influence far in excess of their experience, intelligence, and vision.
I shall reserve judgement until I read more of this book, but meanwhile, de-globalization is slowly becoming more topical. How do you explain to an economist that economies of a global scale cannot be coupled with the evolutionary history of Man and all other Life on the planet? They can't figure it out for themselves. Take away their jobs, and economize on economists. Hire common-sense instead.
There was a man today exercising five cages of his pigeons, by letting them fly home to Harlow. They were all this year's brood. He drove a taxi part-time, as he was semi-retired, and he was quite happy in himself, but appalled at what the world has become. "Nobody ever does anything, except sit at home watching telly, or in front of the computer, and driving to the supermarket." No, he was the last of his breed, an earthy pigeon fancier. He understood the problem with globalization, in that peer pressure from the younger generation and the demise of local focus has impoverished the pastimes, hobbies, and ability to be content that was so easy for the pre-television generation. And today, on the radio, it turns out that Peter Mandelson is becoming unpopular because of his liberal trade politics, whereas there is a growing understanding even in Europe (at last, and too belatedly to escape the damage) that globalization has a flawed and vapid vision.
Oh dear, maybe I shouldn't waste my time finishing Will Hutton's book. Just the usual idiotic scribings of the over-educated, over-informed, egocentric, self-publicizing journalist who claims to be intelligent, but cannot induce any new truths from all that he knows. As I said, he reminds me of Simon Jenkins.
Not having read much of it yet, I am about to hazard a guess that he is an economist by training, and hence belongs to the Simon Jenkins school of journalism. I will now check Will Hutton out on Wikipedia. Lo and behold, I am nearly 100% spot on: introduced to A level economics, worked in equity sales, and then went to do an MBA, he is a governor of the London School of Economics, amongst other things.
How predictable. The intellectual pedigree of economists should be subjected to more ruthless analysis than currently exists, because economists have for the last few decades been allowed to wield influence far in excess of their experience, intelligence, and vision.
I shall reserve judgement until I read more of this book, but meanwhile, de-globalization is slowly becoming more topical. How do you explain to an economist that economies of a global scale cannot be coupled with the evolutionary history of Man and all other Life on the planet? They can't figure it out for themselves. Take away their jobs, and economize on economists. Hire common-sense instead.
There was a man today exercising five cages of his pigeons, by letting them fly home to Harlow. They were all this year's brood. He drove a taxi part-time, as he was semi-retired, and he was quite happy in himself, but appalled at what the world has become. "Nobody ever does anything, except sit at home watching telly, or in front of the computer, and driving to the supermarket." No, he was the last of his breed, an earthy pigeon fancier. He understood the problem with globalization, in that peer pressure from the younger generation and the demise of local focus has impoverished the pastimes, hobbies, and ability to be content that was so easy for the pre-television generation. And today, on the radio, it turns out that Peter Mandelson is becoming unpopular because of his liberal trade politics, whereas there is a growing understanding even in Europe (at last, and too belatedly to escape the damage) that globalization has a flawed and vapid vision.
Oh dear, maybe I shouldn't waste my time finishing Will Hutton's book. Just the usual idiotic scribings of the over-educated, over-informed, egocentric, self-publicizing journalist who claims to be intelligent, but cannot induce any new truths from all that he knows. As I said, he reminds me of Simon Jenkins.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
BBC Web Changes and BBC Globalism
The BBC has been changing its online presence, and has recently been reducing its attempts to build community, i.e., in this case, its Radio 4 Today Programme's message boards, which were once a public forum for expression.
Well, this kind of thing has always happened in Britain. People who think otherwise were just lulled by the uncensored novelty that WAS the internet of the early days. Indeed, the amount of restraint and censorship and control of internet content has been building up, even if it has taken many years to catch up with this 15 years old technology.
The BBC is a funny animal on the planet.
A. It survives by flying the flag of Britain.
B. Most of its patriots and global advocates claim to be anti-nationalists.
This might seem to be one of my inane wonderings, but let's go ahead and subject it to ruthless logic.
If A = True AND B = True, then the falsehood must exist within A or B, because anti-nationalists would not be flying the flag of a nation.
If A = True and B = False, then the BBC's World Service cannot claim to be impartial to Britain's interests.
If A = False and B = True, then the BBC should not have any claim to public funding, either directly from the British Government, or the British TV Licence (an inefficient form of taxation which always trails technological development).
If A = False and B = False, then why does most of the BBC's funding come from the British public, and why isn't the whole world dumping Globalism openly?
The BBC, and the world, is very confused. When you have spent your entire life chasing a dream of building one world of peoples who live peacefully and equitably together, how long would it take you to question yourself openly and honestly about whether this is a desirable thing for the planet and all its living things, of which humanity is only one part?
We would expect this kind of thing in China or the old Soviet Union.
Well, this kind of thing has always happened in Britain. People who think otherwise were just lulled by the uncensored novelty that WAS the internet of the early days. Indeed, the amount of restraint and censorship and control of internet content has been building up, even if it has taken many years to catch up with this 15 years old technology.
The BBC is a funny animal on the planet.
A. It survives by flying the flag of Britain.
B. Most of its patriots and global advocates claim to be anti-nationalists.
This might seem to be one of my inane wonderings, but let's go ahead and subject it to ruthless logic.
If A = True AND B = True, then the falsehood must exist within A or B, because anti-nationalists would not be flying the flag of a nation.
If A = True and B = False, then the BBC's World Service cannot claim to be impartial to Britain's interests.
If A = False and B = True, then the BBC should not have any claim to public funding, either directly from the British Government, or the British TV Licence (an inefficient form of taxation which always trails technological development).
If A = False and B = False, then why does most of the BBC's funding come from the British public, and why isn't the whole world dumping Globalism openly?
The BBC, and the world, is very confused. When you have spent your entire life chasing a dream of building one world of peoples who live peacefully and equitably together, how long would it take you to question yourself openly and honestly about whether this is a desirable thing for the planet and all its living things, of which humanity is only one part?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
World Naked Bike Ride in London 2008
The annual naked bike ride in London took place yesterday, starting as usual from Hyde Park Corner, but this time at 3.30pm. It was one week later than events elsewhere in the World Naked Bike Ride.
The day was partly cloudy, and slightly nippy. Consequently, the turnout was probably a bit less than last year.
I wonder if countries like Saudi Arabia, Singapore, India, China, and Kenya will ever have naked bike rides? In London, spectators are still amazed by the spectacle, and those who are appalled are more appalled at the spectacle of body honesty than nakedness. Ask anybody about the Naked Bike Ride, and their response will be, oh yes, they like it when an attractive young person of their sexual preference sails past. Their cameras are clicking away either for this reason, or because they want to prove to their mates that they saw all these loopy nutters riding their bikes without any clothes on. Even in post-liberal, totally-internetted England, nudity is still a major engine of sexual stimulation. This probably makes sense, since in cold countries, clothes are for most of the year a physical necessity for keeping warm, so seeing a naked person outdoors will always be a seasonal novelty.
I would like to hand a cheer to all the non-porn-stars who participated in the London naked bike ride. For they once again injected a forgotten humanity into a society that gloats about its own humanitarianism. This is the humanity of the human animal body, the one which many people deny until they are humbled by a nurse or a doctor while lying in a hospital bed.
Back in 1983 when I was a new adult, I paid my first ever visit to a naturist beach. It was in the south of France. My companion was brave and determined to strip off. I followed suitless. As we lay there, in the glorious sunshine by the Mediterranean, watching crowds of nude naturist French families having their picnics and swimming, one particular group caught my eye.
The young woman was a stunning beauty, with a body that all women would crave to have, and all men crave to touch. She was with her infant daughter and her mother. Her daughter would be a beautiful woman one day. Her mother was no longer the subject of any man's attentions, and in fact appeared to have made no attempt to fight the gravity and wear of ageing, but she was unashamed and "bien dans sa peau", she was with her family, and they were all together, having their day out on the beach.
I looked at them and thought how the young woman must be so much wiser than many in Anglo-Saxon lands. Here she could have no delusions that one day she will sport her mother's body, but she learns not to fear the day. She learns to live today, to love today, and already has accomplished her birthright of passing her genetic blessings to her daughter. No neurotic reluctant motherhood here.
Three generations of the family females, naked together on the beach, living on a sunny warm day. How natural, how lovely. With no commentary by David Attenborough, either. It is sad that only in such places may we learn what we are, and why we exist. It is sadder yet that even in 2008, a naked bike ride in London can never approach the beauty and education of such a scene. A naked bike ride in London makes less of a dent on the population's behaviour than does the rising price of that substance abuse - oil.
The day was partly cloudy, and slightly nippy. Consequently, the turnout was probably a bit less than last year.
I wonder if countries like Saudi Arabia, Singapore, India, China, and Kenya will ever have naked bike rides? In London, spectators are still amazed by the spectacle, and those who are appalled are more appalled at the spectacle of body honesty than nakedness. Ask anybody about the Naked Bike Ride, and their response will be, oh yes, they like it when an attractive young person of their sexual preference sails past. Their cameras are clicking away either for this reason, or because they want to prove to their mates that they saw all these loopy nutters riding their bikes without any clothes on. Even in post-liberal, totally-internetted England, nudity is still a major engine of sexual stimulation. This probably makes sense, since in cold countries, clothes are for most of the year a physical necessity for keeping warm, so seeing a naked person outdoors will always be a seasonal novelty.
I would like to hand a cheer to all the non-porn-stars who participated in the London naked bike ride. For they once again injected a forgotten humanity into a society that gloats about its own humanitarianism. This is the humanity of the human animal body, the one which many people deny until they are humbled by a nurse or a doctor while lying in a hospital bed.
Back in 1983 when I was a new adult, I paid my first ever visit to a naturist beach. It was in the south of France. My companion was brave and determined to strip off. I followed suitless. As we lay there, in the glorious sunshine by the Mediterranean, watching crowds of nude naturist French families having their picnics and swimming, one particular group caught my eye.
The young woman was a stunning beauty, with a body that all women would crave to have, and all men crave to touch. She was with her infant daughter and her mother. Her daughter would be a beautiful woman one day. Her mother was no longer the subject of any man's attentions, and in fact appeared to have made no attempt to fight the gravity and wear of ageing, but she was unashamed and "bien dans sa peau", she was with her family, and they were all together, having their day out on the beach.
I looked at them and thought how the young woman must be so much wiser than many in Anglo-Saxon lands. Here she could have no delusions that one day she will sport her mother's body, but she learns not to fear the day. She learns to live today, to love today, and already has accomplished her birthright of passing her genetic blessings to her daughter. No neurotic reluctant motherhood here.
Three generations of the family females, naked together on the beach, living on a sunny warm day. How natural, how lovely. With no commentary by David Attenborough, either. It is sad that only in such places may we learn what we are, and why we exist. It is sadder yet that even in 2008, a naked bike ride in London can never approach the beauty and education of such a scene. A naked bike ride in London makes less of a dent on the population's behaviour than does the rising price of that substance abuse - oil.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Financial Services Authority : Fair Market versus Free Market
In current market conditions, there is increased potential for market abuse through short selling during rights issues. As a result, there has been severe volatility in the shares of companies conducting rights issues. ...
A review will be conducted into how capital raising by listed companies can be made more orderly and efficient. But the Financial Services Authority (FSA) has also been considering what immediate measures can be taken to ... prevent potential abuse during rights issues.
The FSA views short selling as a legitimate technique ... But it also the case that the rights issue process provides greater scope for what might amount to market abuse, particularly in current conditions. We consider that, in the first instance, improving transparency of significant short selling in such shares would be a good means of preventing the potential for abuse. ...
We are therefore introducing provisions in our Code of Market Conduct, to come into effect from Friday 20 June 2008, which will require the disclosure of significant short positions in stocks admitted to trading on prescribed markets which are undertaking rights issues. For this purpose we are defining a significant short position as 0.25% of the issued shares achieved via short selling or by any instruments giving rise to an equivalent economic interest. The obligation will be to disclose positions exceeding this threshold to the market by means of a Regulatory Information Service by 3.30pm the following business day. ...
In addition to the new disclosure regime, we are also giving consideration to whether it might be necessary to take further measures in this area. We are currently examining a number of options including the following: restricting the lending of stock of securities in rights issues for the purposes of enabling short selling; and restricting short sellers from covering their positions by acquiring the rights to the newly issued shares.
This is the most substantial knee-jerk intrusion by the Financial Services Authority, into the Fantasy World of Free Market Trading advocates, since the wake-up call of Northern Rock. The FSA isn't in its Canary Wharf hammock taking two Rip van Winks.
What has happened? This week, the HBOS share price was driven below 275 pence by short-selling speculators. That was below the price of rights that were announced over a month ago, not even yet approved by shareholders, scheduled for issue in July. Danger, Danger! Even anti-Capitalists would not want capitalism to crash this suddenly, for in our globalized economy, more people would die from a sudden collapse in global capitalism than are dying from Climate Change Induced Starvation.
Extremist Free Marketeers, posturing under the banner of Adam Smith, at last are being monitored by the only institution empowered to do so. Indeed, in the planet of Finance and Economics, the Free Market Extremists are probably more dangerous than the fundamentalist terrorists in the planet of Religion.
For the supermarket shoppers who were introduced to global economic reality by the Fair Trade versus Free Trade movement, this is the equivalent in the world of Big Global Money: the Fair Market versus Free Market quarrel between economists. The truth is, there has never been such a thing as a Free Market. Like the simple circle, it cannot exist in nature; it can only exist as a simple mathematical concept. There are things that approach a perfect circle, but this does not necessarily make them more useful or desirable to either Mankind or Planetkind.
The Europeans are probably snickering at the British. They have always been rather horrified at the radicalism of super-free markets, and have maintained a dignified but studious distance. How nice to see the British finally have to regulate their markets!
This is another climactic moment in history, for the British as a nation were the Extremist Free Marketeers of Western Europe in the last few decades. Commonly attributed to Thatcherism, she was in fact just the figurehead at a time when Britain needed shaking up. The shaking up probably should have stopped completely during John Major, but strangely enough, the Labour government started it up again.
Today, we have the first evidence of the UK economic pendulum swinging back to Fair Markets. It was necessary, or there would be no markets at all, and we would all end up starving like Mugabe's Zimbabweans.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Silent Disco - Spite the DJs and the Dance Music Fashionistas
Am I getting old or what? 3 years after this started, I finally hear (in the silent lifescape) about it.
Pros:
- It saves lots of electricity.
- It doesn't blast the neighbours.
Cons:
- You can't feel the lower frequencies, either through your feet, your chest, and other parts of your body
- You can't hear the music through the audio transmission through the skull, since everything goes through the ears.
The derision I have for this now, will probably mean that I will be trying it out and enjoying it very soon. Such is the planet of What Goes Around, Comes Around.
Mind you, these young people have no imagination in dance exhibitionism. A truly unique and rebellious form of dancing is one that I have never seen or heard mentioned before, but which I have practiced occasionally:
You dance to whatever music your body and mind feels like, even if it clashes horribly with the rhythm or melody of the music being played. Spite the DJ, and the Dance Music Fashionista!
These young people know nothing about being individual human beings. They are lambs in sheep's clothing with headphones on. That way, they can't hear the wolves when they are about to attack.
Pros:
- It saves lots of electricity.
- It doesn't blast the neighbours.
Cons:
- You can't feel the lower frequencies, either through your feet, your chest, and other parts of your body
- You can't hear the music through the audio transmission through the skull, since everything goes through the ears.
The derision I have for this now, will probably mean that I will be trying it out and enjoying it very soon. Such is the planet of What Goes Around, Comes Around.
Mind you, these young people have no imagination in dance exhibitionism. A truly unique and rebellious form of dancing is one that I have never seen or heard mentioned before, but which I have practiced occasionally:
You dance to whatever music your body and mind feels like, even if it clashes horribly with the rhythm or melody of the music being played. Spite the DJ, and the Dance Music Fashionista!
These young people know nothing about being individual human beings. They are lambs in sheep's clothing with headphones on. That way, they can't hear the wolves when they are about to attack.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
London Open Garden Weekend Prize
The prize for best garden I have ever seen in London based on the combination of : use of space, leaf and colour in plants, sympathy with surroundings, wildlife habitat, community involvement and participation, and overall beauty and enjoyment, goes to the Culpeper Community Garden in Cloudesley Road, Islington.
To say the least, this garden blew everybody's minds. It is superb, and definitely a sunny June garden, which lived easily in the hot sun we had on Sunday. Plants are abundant, diverse, some surprising, all used seamlessly in the garden scape, flowing into each other, yet each one given its space and chance. The only bare soil to be seen are in the micro-allotments that are given over to people to learn and practice growing vegetables. There is a fair sized pond, and a bit of lawn, plenty of paths, angles, different flowering times, and it is simply amazing how they have achieved so much in their small space. This is a 2008 English garden , and in the light of the glut of humanitarian philosophy that smothers this planet, this is what the English humanitarian dreams of doing with people. See the garden, and see what they wish they could do with civilization.
Only one other garden in London comes close to this quality of gardening, and that is the Phoenix Garden north of Covent Garden near Charing Cross Road. To put one against the other is neither possible nor profitable. The Phoenix Garden is the miraculous struggle of a very few people, and the one gardener, amidst the poison of Central London urban commercial development. It is the last vestige of the Covent Garden community before it became obliterated by packaged commercial tourism. The Culpeper, however, is simply joyous, a gem, a total surprise, founded on the very best of traditional Islington community values which is inevitably supported by one of the most expensively run Labour councils in the country.
Second prize for the Open Garden weekend goes to the Lillington Estate Grounds and Gardens in Pimlico. Here is what can be achieved in any council estate consisting of tower blocks. All over the country, estates like this usually only have grass, dog shit, and maybe one or two trees that are half dead because the contractors at some point have strimmed the roots and bark. But at Lillington, ten years ago, when it was run by a Tenant Management Organisation, some of the residents decided to take control of the gardening of their own estate. This is the result. This is what everybody else in the country needs to do.
These miraculous gardens have been happening in Westminster and Islington for many years, yet up and down the country, they are not even aware of anything other than that Charlie Dimmock is now over the hill, and Gavin Diarmuid is a bore.
Also mind-boggling, for its history, its botanical knowledge, and its on-going value is the Chelsea Physic garden, which I have wanted for decades to be visiting, and at last have done so. I am the ultimate procrastinator.
And now for the bitch and the blooper. The weekend's worst garden is also the least deserving garden I have ever seen in my entire life in London, in Britain, and maybe the world. This is the SOAS roof garden. I shudder to think how forgiving the Japanese must be, if they can hide their derision for this token and blatant prostitution for patronage. I shudder to think what sort of fantasy life the SOAS elite must live in , if they have the audacity to list this garden at all. Raked gravel? We know. Granite? Yes, so what. Kanji character? Where was it, and if it was for giving, why was there so little for taking? This was a garden with not even the minimalist requirement of living plants, in a roof micro-climate that becomes baking hot in the Globally Warming London Summer Sun. There was no water, no life, and not even any art. The SOAS roof garden is rubbish.
And back to moderation: on my way home, exhausted, I decided to stop at the Royal Victoria, and treat myself to a pint of Fruli (a Belgian fruit beer), which I infinitely prefer to champagne. Well, it now costs £4.60 a pint, and I nearly died at the shock of my extravagance, and will have to say goodbye to the frosty trendy staff at this Victoria Park pub, as they struggle to establish their ghetto of North London sophistication in East London. Indeed, at £4.60 a pint, Fruli IS more expensive than some supermarket champagnes. I shall just have to join a Belgian monastery and learn to make my own. There's an idea....
To say the least, this garden blew everybody's minds. It is superb, and definitely a sunny June garden, which lived easily in the hot sun we had on Sunday. Plants are abundant, diverse, some surprising, all used seamlessly in the garden scape, flowing into each other, yet each one given its space and chance. The only bare soil to be seen are in the micro-allotments that are given over to people to learn and practice growing vegetables. There is a fair sized pond, and a bit of lawn, plenty of paths, angles, different flowering times, and it is simply amazing how they have achieved so much in their small space. This is a 2008 English garden , and in the light of the glut of humanitarian philosophy that smothers this planet, this is what the English humanitarian dreams of doing with people. See the garden, and see what they wish they could do with civilization.
Only one other garden in London comes close to this quality of gardening, and that is the Phoenix Garden north of Covent Garden near Charing Cross Road. To put one against the other is neither possible nor profitable. The Phoenix Garden is the miraculous struggle of a very few people, and the one gardener, amidst the poison of Central London urban commercial development. It is the last vestige of the Covent Garden community before it became obliterated by packaged commercial tourism. The Culpeper, however, is simply joyous, a gem, a total surprise, founded on the very best of traditional Islington community values which is inevitably supported by one of the most expensively run Labour councils in the country.
Second prize for the Open Garden weekend goes to the Lillington Estate Grounds and Gardens in Pimlico. Here is what can be achieved in any council estate consisting of tower blocks. All over the country, estates like this usually only have grass, dog shit, and maybe one or two trees that are half dead because the contractors at some point have strimmed the roots and bark. But at Lillington, ten years ago, when it was run by a Tenant Management Organisation, some of the residents decided to take control of the gardening of their own estate. This is the result. This is what everybody else in the country needs to do.
These miraculous gardens have been happening in Westminster and Islington for many years, yet up and down the country, they are not even aware of anything other than that Charlie Dimmock is now over the hill, and Gavin Diarmuid is a bore.
Also mind-boggling, for its history, its botanical knowledge, and its on-going value is the Chelsea Physic garden, which I have wanted for decades to be visiting, and at last have done so. I am the ultimate procrastinator.
And now for the bitch and the blooper. The weekend's worst garden is also the least deserving garden I have ever seen in my entire life in London, in Britain, and maybe the world. This is the SOAS roof garden. I shudder to think how forgiving the Japanese must be, if they can hide their derision for this token and blatant prostitution for patronage. I shudder to think what sort of fantasy life the SOAS elite must live in , if they have the audacity to list this garden at all. Raked gravel? We know. Granite? Yes, so what. Kanji character? Where was it, and if it was for giving, why was there so little for taking? This was a garden with not even the minimalist requirement of living plants, in a roof micro-climate that becomes baking hot in the Globally Warming London Summer Sun. There was no water, no life, and not even any art. The SOAS roof garden is rubbish.
And back to moderation: on my way home, exhausted, I decided to stop at the Royal Victoria, and treat myself to a pint of Fruli (a Belgian fruit beer), which I infinitely prefer to champagne. Well, it now costs £4.60 a pint, and I nearly died at the shock of my extravagance, and will have to say goodbye to the frosty trendy staff at this Victoria Park pub, as they struggle to establish their ghetto of North London sophistication in East London. Indeed, at £4.60 a pint, Fruli IS more expensive than some supermarket champagnes. I shall just have to join a Belgian monastery and learn to make my own. There's an idea....
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Open Garden Squares Weekend
Adventures! What a beautiful morning to see the Thames by Richmond. The people maintaining their rental wooden boats with days-gone-by dedication.
Thus the trip to Ham House was a pleasure in itself. The garden there was formal, but nonetheless a delight. In particular, the so-called Cherry garden, which has two tiny potted cherry trees, is a square surrounded by some perfect green cloisters. Imagine a corridor between square-cut yew hedges about 4 feet high. Out of these, hornbeams reach upward, and then at about 6 feet high, their leafy branches fan out, arch over, and interlock to form a completely covered arching roof. These are actually called berceaux (arched trellises). Put this around a square, and you have green cloisters, which I have never seen before. Yew hedges for the low wall, open air for windows, and hornbeam for the vaulted roof. Perfect.
The effect of growing trees out of square cut hedges is used again in the wilderness garden, where medium sized, untrained oak trees grow out of the a low hornbeam hedge. Very unusual. Here and there are some unusual plants, and wildflower meadows sections.
The pleasure of walking through such gardens, 350 years after their design, is unchanged. They provide a space that escapes from the outside. In that time the formal garden was an escape from the rampant and difficult to tame nature abundant in England. Today it is an escape from the rampant and difficult to tame human development; the huge roads, combustion engines, heavy traffic, metal clad warehouses, suburban and urban housing developments, shopping halls and malls, office buildings and parking lots.
Next was a stop at the St Michael's Convent on Ham Common. The heat of the day was set, and it isn't designed for hot weather, but had plenty of lovely surprises.
Then a ride through Richmond Park, and after all these years, I saw deer in droves. Red deer, fallow deer, their antlers still young and furry at this point in the season. Grazing everywhere, leaving only the deadly and inhospitable bracken. Although I saw an enormous pheasant quite happy for the cover of the bracken.
To the Roehampton allotments on Dover House road and the pleasance. Quite productive, fairly well-drained soil, backing onto houses. Blessed with piped water and without any restrictions on using hoses. Peas were nearly ripened, but their raspberries were behind.
On the way to Wildcroft Manor, two people were trying to save a Stag Beetle by getting it off the road. It was a full-size stag beetle, alive and apparently complete, but not very energetic, so presumably it was in the death stages of its life-cycle?
At Wildcroft Manor, their weekend event was graced by the arrival of a swarm of bees which had settled that very day on a hawthorn. The cluster of bees was about 1 foot long and probably 9 inches across.
Richmond this evening had such a high tide, that I can't imagine how much higher they could allow it to be. In conditions that were fairly still, on a day when it hadn't rained, but of course, all that water had fallen as heavy rain these last few days.
Richmond, for all its natural blessings, has a shopping street that is entirely composed of chain stores, even boasting a Tesco Metro. Of course this transformation from its previous English village feel was already completed about 6 years ago. Nonetheless it is sad, and it doesn't feel right. But what do the young people know? So long as food keeps arriving on supermarket shelves in plastic packages, they feel safe.
Thus the trip to Ham House was a pleasure in itself. The garden there was formal, but nonetheless a delight. In particular, the so-called Cherry garden, which has two tiny potted cherry trees, is a square surrounded by some perfect green cloisters. Imagine a corridor between square-cut yew hedges about 4 feet high. Out of these, hornbeams reach upward, and then at about 6 feet high, their leafy branches fan out, arch over, and interlock to form a completely covered arching roof. These are actually called berceaux (arched trellises). Put this around a square, and you have green cloisters, which I have never seen before. Yew hedges for the low wall, open air for windows, and hornbeam for the vaulted roof. Perfect.
The effect of growing trees out of square cut hedges is used again in the wilderness garden, where medium sized, untrained oak trees grow out of the a low hornbeam hedge. Very unusual. Here and there are some unusual plants, and wildflower meadows sections.
The pleasure of walking through such gardens, 350 years after their design, is unchanged. They provide a space that escapes from the outside. In that time the formal garden was an escape from the rampant and difficult to tame nature abundant in England. Today it is an escape from the rampant and difficult to tame human development; the huge roads, combustion engines, heavy traffic, metal clad warehouses, suburban and urban housing developments, shopping halls and malls, office buildings and parking lots.
Next was a stop at the St Michael's Convent on Ham Common. The heat of the day was set, and it isn't designed for hot weather, but had plenty of lovely surprises.
Then a ride through Richmond Park, and after all these years, I saw deer in droves. Red deer, fallow deer, their antlers still young and furry at this point in the season. Grazing everywhere, leaving only the deadly and inhospitable bracken. Although I saw an enormous pheasant quite happy for the cover of the bracken.
To the Roehampton allotments on Dover House road and the pleasance. Quite productive, fairly well-drained soil, backing onto houses. Blessed with piped water and without any restrictions on using hoses. Peas were nearly ripened, but their raspberries were behind.
On the way to Wildcroft Manor, two people were trying to save a Stag Beetle by getting it off the road. It was a full-size stag beetle, alive and apparently complete, but not very energetic, so presumably it was in the death stages of its life-cycle?
At Wildcroft Manor, their weekend event was graced by the arrival of a swarm of bees which had settled that very day on a hawthorn. The cluster of bees was about 1 foot long and probably 9 inches across.
Richmond this evening had such a high tide, that I can't imagine how much higher they could allow it to be. In conditions that were fairly still, on a day when it hadn't rained, but of course, all that water had fallen as heavy rain these last few days.
Richmond, for all its natural blessings, has a shopping street that is entirely composed of chain stores, even boasting a Tesco Metro. Of course this transformation from its previous English village feel was already completed about 6 years ago. Nonetheless it is sad, and it doesn't feel right. But what do the young people know? So long as food keeps arriving on supermarket shelves in plastic packages, they feel safe.
Dancers to the Dance
1. Sex and the City
2. Love and the City
3. Love and the Planet
4. Sex and the Planet
One, Two, Three, Four
To and From,
And once again...
There may be trouble ahead,
But while there's music,
and sunlight, and love,
and the planet...
Let's face the music,
and damn it.
Dancer from the Dance
Take these Dancers to the Dance.
Rise,
Faint flicker
of rhythm
The lost pulse of
Deeply quaking hormones
that shook to
Donna Summer's whore moans.
Rising. Risen.
Soaring. Searing
The heavens above
Spread those wings
Fold them, and rocket away
Unidentified Dancing Missile
Dancers from the Dance,
Who live to see another dance.
What the World needs now,
Is Dance, Sweet Dance.
Dance and the Planet.
Keep it spinning,
Let it tilt,
Flow with its oceans.
Move with its storms.
Be the moon in the Eternal Dance
Through the Stars.
For the Planet is the Dance, the Dancer, and the Music.
2. Love and the City
3. Love and the Planet
4. Sex and the Planet
One, Two, Three, Four
To and From,
And once again...
There may be trouble ahead,
But while there's music,
and sunlight, and love,
and the planet...
Let's face the music,
and damn it.
Dancer from the Dance
Take these Dancers to the Dance.
Rise,
Faint flicker
of rhythm
The lost pulse of
Deeply quaking hormones
that shook to
Donna Summer's whore moans.
Rising. Risen.
Soaring. Searing
The heavens above
Spread those wings
Fold them, and rocket away
Unidentified Dancing Missile
Dancers from the Dance,
Who live to see another dance.
What the World needs now,
Is Dance, Sweet Dance.
Dance and the Planet.
Keep it spinning,
Let it tilt,
Flow with its oceans.
Move with its storms.
Be the moon in the Eternal Dance
Through the Stars.
For the Planet is the Dance, the Dancer, and the Music.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Burning Plastics
A lot of homo sapiens evolved to like fires. In countries with cold nights, fires kept people warm. Under open skies, fires frightened away wolves, tigers, or other predators. Inside dark caves and rooms, fires lit up the walls and created little worlds that could be seen with their eyes.
So to many people, burning wood seems natural. Indeed, a forest fire in any part of the world wastes more energy and carbon dioxide than a thousand (and usually millions and billions) home wood fires.
In a world overflowing with plastic waste from every angle, it is tempting to burn the plastics as well, is it not? What could be more self-sufficient? Especially if you can make heat or electricity from it, should it not be good for the planet?
So today's prize weblink is given to the simplest:
But if you have been puzzled by all the recycling codes on all the bits of plastic packaging of things beautifully manufactured in China and elsewhere, enlighten yourself with the Resin Identification Code.
Look out for Number 3
Vinyl and PVC
Are BAD x 3
Further websites of interest, all Googled, I confess:
http://www.cielap.org/pdf/032304_timeontario.pdf
http://www.newton.dep.anl.gov/askasci/chem00/chem00031.htm
http://dnr.wi.gov/environmentprotect/ob/agplasticseffects.html
So to many people, burning wood seems natural. Indeed, a forest fire in any part of the world wastes more energy and carbon dioxide than a thousand (and usually millions and billions) home wood fires.
In a world overflowing with plastic waste from every angle, it is tempting to burn the plastics as well, is it not? What could be more self-sufficient? Especially if you can make heat or electricity from it, should it not be good for the planet?
So today's prize weblink is given to the simplest:
Separate plastics – separate plastic waste from other waste. Do not burn any plastics in your yard or house.To which I add: Buy less, Use less, Waste less.
Avoid plastics – Avoid plastics, in particular do not purchase goods packed in PVC packaging, which generates dioxins when burned.
Reduce waste – Buy products that can be reused or refilled (glass and metal containers)
But if you have been puzzled by all the recycling codes on all the bits of plastic packaging of things beautifully manufactured in China and elsewhere, enlighten yourself with the Resin Identification Code.
Look out for Number 3
Vinyl and PVC
Are BAD x 3
Further websites of interest, all Googled, I confess:
http://www.cielap.org/pdf/032304_timeontario.pdf
A 2002 study from the US Environmental Protection Agency (USEPA) states that "backyard barrel burning" is the largest source of dioxin and furan emissions in the US, and a 2003 Environment Canada report indicates that this practice is the largest remaining single source of environmentally occurring dioxins in Canada. The burn barrels of less than 40 households can release the same combined amount of dioxins as a modern incinerator designed for servicing up to 120,000.
http://www.newton.dep.anl.gov/askasci/chem00/chem00031.htm
Some types of plastic contain elements besides the standard carbon,hydrogen, and oxygen. Nylons contain nitrogen, and polyvinyl chloride contains, of course, chlorine. These constituents also find their way into the combustion products. Probably the particular component you have heard about most is TCDD, which is an abbreviation for the chemical name tetrachloro-dibenzo-dioxin. This compound contains four chlorine atoms, and is inevatibly formed when polyvinyl chloride plastics are burned. (Complete combustion of PVC would yield only water, carbon dioxide, and hydrogen chloride; in practice, some incomplete combustion products such as TCDD are
always formed, if at low levels.) TCDD is also formed when wood burns, because wood also contains small amounts of chlorine. Because of the much higher proportion of chlorine in PVC, however, it is the material leading to the highest levels of TCDD.
The toxicity of TCDD to animals is well-established. It is often considered to be the man-made compound most toxic to animals. Its toxicity to humans,however, is not as well-established. The only absolutely confirmed human health effect from exposure to TCDD is a skin rash called chloracne. Other health effects are suspected. It is considered a carcinogen on the basis of animal studies.
TCDD is also an unwanted by-product of the manufacture of the herbicides 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. A manufacturing accident at a plant manufacturing these chemicals occurred near Sevesto, Italy in 1976 released an estimated 1-10 lb of TCDD into the surrounding countryside, killing many farm animals and causing chloracne. Since 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T were components of the defoliant "Agent Orange" used in Vietnam, many U.S. servicemen (and of course Vietnamese) were exposed to elevated levels of TCDD. TCDD is thus suspected as the cause of the symptoms attributed to "Agent Orange" exposure.
Richard E. Barrans Jr., Ph.D.
Assistant Director
PG Research Foundation, Darien, Illinois
http://dnr.wi.gov/environmentprotect/ob/agplasticseffects.html
Some of the most dangerous chemicals created and released during burning some types of plastic are dioxins.... Dioxins, which are byproducts formed when chlorine-containing products are burned, tend to adhere to the waxy surface of leaves and then enter the food chain. Even if certain types of plastic (such as polyethylene or polypropylene) do not contain chlorine, other materials attached to or burned with the plastic may be a chlorine source.
Other chemicals released while burning plastics include benzo(a)pyrene (BAP) and other polyaromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs), which have both been shown to cause cancer. If film or containers are contaminated with pesticides or other harmful substances, those will also be released into the air. If plastics are burned with other materials, additional toxic chemicals may be created from the interaction of the different substances.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Earth Calling Canada: Stop Killing Everything
Canadian Geographic magazine has two outstanding features in the June 2008 issue. One is a revealing look at the Albertan Oil Sands development. The other is about the selfish greedy proposals to Strip-mine British Columbia's Flathead Valley.
What more proof do you need that Canadians are not angels when it comes to the love and protection of Nature? After all, these are the people who bludgeoned Seal-Pups to sell furs to Europeans; they are the people who raped the waters of all the fish in the Grand Banks of the North American East Coast until the cod disappeared, and even after 25 years, has not recovered; these are the people whose greed to grow grain in the Prairies created Dustbowls where once lived whole stable ecosystems.
Some of the maps and pictures of the oil sands extraction scarring Alberta are quite simply shocking. The eventual area to be damaged seems to be the size of the whole of England, if not more. Canadians have worshipped the car, and now they worship the money that comes from the oil that feeds the cars. I dare not even look on a Google Earth satellite photo... the rage it would bring up in me has to be managed.
As for the Flathead Valley, I suspect that now that British Columbia's economy is dominated by the mass economic migration from Hong Kong in the last 25 years, there is a complicity of ignorance and meekness at the prospective rape of the ecology in one of Earth's more bountiful climate systems (the Temperate, Rainy zones on the Eastern edges of the Great Oceans, namely places like Chile, Britain, and British Columbia).
Why should I assume ignorance and meekness when Greed will do? Why should you?
After all, they want the low-grade coal that is in the Flathead Valley. That's what they're doing in China. That's what they want to do in Canada.
Meanwhile the consumption habits of North Americans and Europeans are unabated as they endlessly buy gadgets, goods and machines that are Made in China. So whose fault is it ultimately? Is it the The Ignorant Consumer or is it the greedy Corporations and the Wealthy Private Elite that together rule their lives? It is probably all of them.
What more proof do you need that Canadians are not angels when it comes to the love and protection of Nature? After all, these are the people who bludgeoned Seal-Pups to sell furs to Europeans; they are the people who raped the waters of all the fish in the Grand Banks of the North American East Coast until the cod disappeared, and even after 25 years, has not recovered; these are the people whose greed to grow grain in the Prairies created Dustbowls where once lived whole stable ecosystems.
Some of the maps and pictures of the oil sands extraction scarring Alberta are quite simply shocking. The eventual area to be damaged seems to be the size of the whole of England, if not more. Canadians have worshipped the car, and now they worship the money that comes from the oil that feeds the cars. I dare not even look on a Google Earth satellite photo... the rage it would bring up in me has to be managed.
As for the Flathead Valley, I suspect that now that British Columbia's economy is dominated by the mass economic migration from Hong Kong in the last 25 years, there is a complicity of ignorance and meekness at the prospective rape of the ecology in one of Earth's more bountiful climate systems (the Temperate, Rainy zones on the Eastern edges of the Great Oceans, namely places like Chile, Britain, and British Columbia).
Why should I assume ignorance and meekness when Greed will do? Why should you?
After all, they want the low-grade coal that is in the Flathead Valley. That's what they're doing in China. That's what they want to do in Canada.
Meanwhile the consumption habits of North Americans and Europeans are unabated as they endlessly buy gadgets, goods and machines that are Made in China. So whose fault is it ultimately? Is it the The Ignorant Consumer or is it the greedy Corporations and the Wealthy Private Elite that together rule their lives? It is probably all of them.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Letting Living Things Cross the Road
Canada.
You think of vast open spaces. Unspoilt. Pure, even when not smothered by snow and ice.
Oh yes, Canada is the place for every (well, at least the ones that hate hot weather or their countrymen) American who dreams to get away . Once called "The Great White North" by Second City comedians. Bears strolling about in the street. Salmon leaping up rivers, begging to be caught. Royal Canadian Mounties. European-descended Protestants living in small homely towns as close to their farming roots as possible. Lumberjacks and Fishermen and Boatsmen. Canada, the land once known for "Hewers of Wood and Bearers of Water."
The reality? Roads, roads, more roads and sprawling cities that are endlessly spreading their drab suburbia, and cars filling up all these roads, killing everything in their path.
Roadkill has always been a major problem in Canada. Canada has in the past always assumed that it had so much land, so much wilderness, that what gets killed on the road does not matter. Canadians have always taken the side of the car. For example, any anecdotes about an encounter between a moose and a car will always blame the moose. This will be rejoined by the Canadian habit of over-earnest familiar solicitousness, firstly for the driver's safety but more importantly for the car's outcome. Was it a write-off? No, not the moose, of course they mean the car!
These days, you don't see dead animals by the sides of the big main roads. No, because all the animals along those roads have given up and been killed. But if you drive on the quieter, straight and boring county and rural roads of Southern Ontario, you will see freshly killed animals - deer, raccoons, and many ugh others that you don't really want to pause to identify.
The truth is that although Canada is large, the amount which is south of the 45th Parallel (45 degrees North latitude line) is very scarce. This bit of Canada, which lies entirely in the Province of Ontario with Lakes Huron, Erie, and Ontario and the St Lawrence River bounding it, is Southern Ontario.
Southern Ontario south of the 45th Parallel has a land area about the same as the Republic of Ireland. Cover this up with industrialized farmland, roads, cities, shopping malls, parking lots, endless suburbs, endless lakeside Cottage Development, and Earth Calling Canada: YOU have a Problem!.
Indeed, Toronto is so devoted to cars, parking lots, roads and sprawling suburbia, that David Cronenberg, its most famous native Film Director, was inspired to make the film "CRASH". Since he made that film, which satirizes the human sexual attraction to cars in a built landscape that worships the car, there are even more towering buildings that overlook the dreadful 401 that ploughs right across the city from east to west.
The 401 is a hideous example of Twentieth Century North American civilization. Even by the mid-1970s, most of the 20 mile length of the 401 in Metropolitan Toronto had TWELVE LANES. There never was any way any animal could cross that road and ever survive.
So it seems very obvious: roads, highways, and motorways, should only ever be built with tunnels and bridges for animals and land invertebrates so that they can safely cross the road.
It is obvious. Isn't it? Let living things Cross the Road, safe from Killing Cars. Why is something that has been obvious to me for 30 years only now getting into the Toronto Star?
Do countries like China and India want to make these same mistakes as the United States and Canada did so many years ago? China and India can build their roads with tunnel and bridge crossings for living things. Or they could just concern themselves with feeding their burdensome populations and satisfying the materialistic indulgences of their wealthy elite classes.
You think of vast open spaces. Unspoilt. Pure, even when not smothered by snow and ice.
Oh yes, Canada is the place for every (well, at least the ones that hate hot weather or their countrymen) American who dreams to get away . Once called "The Great White North" by Second City comedians. Bears strolling about in the street. Salmon leaping up rivers, begging to be caught. Royal Canadian Mounties. European-descended Protestants living in small homely towns as close to their farming roots as possible. Lumberjacks and Fishermen and Boatsmen. Canada, the land once known for "Hewers of Wood and Bearers of Water."
The reality? Roads, roads, more roads and sprawling cities that are endlessly spreading their drab suburbia, and cars filling up all these roads, killing everything in their path.
Roadkill has always been a major problem in Canada. Canada has in the past always assumed that it had so much land, so much wilderness, that what gets killed on the road does not matter. Canadians have always taken the side of the car. For example, any anecdotes about an encounter between a moose and a car will always blame the moose. This will be rejoined by the Canadian habit of over-earnest familiar solicitousness, firstly for the driver's safety but more importantly for the car's outcome. Was it a write-off? No, not the moose, of course they mean the car!
These days, you don't see dead animals by the sides of the big main roads. No, because all the animals along those roads have given up and been killed. But if you drive on the quieter, straight and boring county and rural roads of Southern Ontario, you will see freshly killed animals - deer, raccoons, and many ugh others that you don't really want to pause to identify.
The truth is that although Canada is large, the amount which is south of the 45th Parallel (45 degrees North latitude line) is very scarce. This bit of Canada, which lies entirely in the Province of Ontario with Lakes Huron, Erie, and Ontario and the St Lawrence River bounding it, is Southern Ontario.
Southern Ontario south of the 45th Parallel has a land area about the same as the Republic of Ireland. Cover this up with industrialized farmland, roads, cities, shopping malls, parking lots, endless suburbs, endless lakeside Cottage Development, and Earth Calling Canada: YOU have a Problem!.
Indeed, Toronto is so devoted to cars, parking lots, roads and sprawling suburbia, that David Cronenberg, its most famous native Film Director, was inspired to make the film "CRASH". Since he made that film, which satirizes the human sexual attraction to cars in a built landscape that worships the car, there are even more towering buildings that overlook the dreadful 401 that ploughs right across the city from east to west.
The 401 is a hideous example of Twentieth Century North American civilization. Even by the mid-1970s, most of the 20 mile length of the 401 in Metropolitan Toronto had TWELVE LANES. There never was any way any animal could cross that road and ever survive.
So it seems very obvious: roads, highways, and motorways, should only ever be built with tunnels and bridges for animals and land invertebrates so that they can safely cross the road.
It is obvious. Isn't it? Let living things Cross the Road, safe from Killing Cars. Why is something that has been obvious to me for 30 years only now getting into the Toronto Star?
Do countries like China and India want to make these same mistakes as the United States and Canada did so many years ago? China and India can build their roads with tunnel and bridge crossings for living things. Or they could just concern themselves with feeding their burdensome populations and satisfying the materialistic indulgences of their wealthy elite classes.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
London 2008/2004 comparison
There is no two-party system in Britain, thank intellectuals. But here in London for the Mayoral Election we have transferrable votes: every voter makes a first choice and a second choice. If nobody wins with an outright 50%+ majority, the two leaders are taken, and then all the second choice votes from the losers are added to the votes of the two leaders.
I must admit it works superbly. It tells you so much more. The Liberal Democrats are failing miserably in London. Obvious, if you are aware and intelligent enough to know that we don't need unbridled liberalism any more: what we still need are people who can contain and correct all the mistakes from the Sixties Onwards liberal era. But when I think that, I am guilty of intellectual snobbery, because notice that the BNP's % votes went down a bit, and the Green Party's votes went up by even less. There is no radical change in London democracy, despite the continuing transfer of London culture into the Globalized Economic Matrix. Democracy depends on demographics, in addition to depending on political free will. Those whom have babies, create voters. The Green Party and the BNP will never get anywhere, because they haven't even got a population growth scheme such as is encouraged by religions. The Liberal Democrats are dying out, simply because they tend to be secular, and reckless, so they are neither good at reproducing, nor are they any good at keeping their existing populations alive.
Evolution and Natural Selection in London human beings, all on one page of democratic voting statistics.
I must admit it works superbly. It tells you so much more. The Liberal Democrats are failing miserably in London. Obvious, if you are aware and intelligent enough to know that we don't need unbridled liberalism any more: what we still need are people who can contain and correct all the mistakes from the Sixties Onwards liberal era. But when I think that, I am guilty of intellectual snobbery, because notice that the BNP's % votes went down a bit, and the Green Party's votes went up by even less. There is no radical change in London democracy, despite the continuing transfer of London culture into the Globalized Economic Matrix. Democracy depends on demographics, in addition to depending on political free will. Those whom have babies, create voters. The Green Party and the BNP will never get anywhere, because they haven't even got a population growth scheme such as is encouraged by religions. The Liberal Democrats are dying out, simply because they tend to be secular, and reckless, so they are neither good at reproducing, nor are they any good at keeping their existing populations alive.
Evolution and Natural Selection in London human beings, all on one page of democratic voting statistics.
UK Local Elections 2008 : Part 2
At last, the London Results are in. It took an extra day, because of all the high technology electricity consumption methods they were using to count the votes.
Is this worth blogging? So Ken Livingstone lost. Well, to his credit, at least he stepped down. To the Electoral System's credit, democracy in the UK is sufficiently intact that Ken Livingstone HAD to step down, because he lost. There is the difference between Britain and Zimbabwe.
And the next biggest news will have nothing to do with the Green Party, which achieved nothing by sporting a young bright Nice North London Luvvie. Yes, it is that Richard Barnbrook of the BNP, has through the system of Proportional Representation, gotten the first seat ever for the BNP in the London Assembly.
Well, the only problem with this is the amount of police security that will have to be paid for to protect him and the whole London Assembly process. Very Expensive for the taxpayer. For it is a fact that he will endure more ill will than Salmon Rushdie, as the mini-tornadoes of Anti-Fascism will be whipped up to stir the paranoia of the many sheep who have been indoctrinated with fear.
And how will any of this help the planet? None at all. Because it will distract everyone from Humanity's Duty of Care towards its Mother Earth. This is 2008, not 1938. There are twice as many people on the planet today, and the majority of them live in nations that can build the atom bomb. The danger to the world today has nothing to do with dangerous human ideas being taken up by the masses. The danger to the world today is that the masses are sleep walking into the future. A future of a Market Matrix in which notions of Democracy, Freedom, Consumer Choice, Humanism and Resource Appropriation are the hyphae that will smother the rest of the diversity of life species on this planet.
Is this worth blogging? So Ken Livingstone lost. Well, to his credit, at least he stepped down. To the Electoral System's credit, democracy in the UK is sufficiently intact that Ken Livingstone HAD to step down, because he lost. There is the difference between Britain and Zimbabwe.
And the next biggest news will have nothing to do with the Green Party, which achieved nothing by sporting a young bright Nice North London Luvvie. Yes, it is that Richard Barnbrook of the BNP, has through the system of Proportional Representation, gotten the first seat ever for the BNP in the London Assembly.
Well, the only problem with this is the amount of police security that will have to be paid for to protect him and the whole London Assembly process. Very Expensive for the taxpayer. For it is a fact that he will endure more ill will than Salmon Rushdie, as the mini-tornadoes of Anti-Fascism will be whipped up to stir the paranoia of the many sheep who have been indoctrinated with fear.
And how will any of this help the planet? None at all. Because it will distract everyone from Humanity's Duty of Care towards its Mother Earth. This is 2008, not 1938. There are twice as many people on the planet today, and the majority of them live in nations that can build the atom bomb. The danger to the world today has nothing to do with dangerous human ideas being taken up by the masses. The danger to the world today is that the masses are sleep walking into the future. A future of a Market Matrix in which notions of Democracy, Freedom, Consumer Choice, Humanism and Resource Appropriation are the hyphae that will smother the rest of the diversity of life species on this planet.
Friday, May 02, 2008
UK Local Elections 2008; Part 1
Here are the UK Local election results, except for the London Mayoral and Assembly Election (which will not be published for a few hours, but there is no need to compare Robert Mugabe with Ken Livingstone for they are so obviously similar).
Labour has died. Conservatives have risen. Liberal Democrats have sat on the fence.
Other rates of Change? Notice that the BNP is growing at twice the rate of the Green Party, and is the fastest growing party. Somebody will try to use this meaningless and misleading statistic at the next election to sell Labour Votes to the Guardian Readers Who Can't Do Maths.
Absolute numbers? Notice that the rates of Change are absolutely inconsequential. The combined size of the BNP and the Green Party make up less than 1% of the total number of councillors. Britain is not Zimbabwe. There is no such thing as radical change at an election, whether or not it is democratically legitimate.
Other useful notes:
1. The BNP was only ever useful for drumming up support for the Labour Party, but they barely serve that purpose any more.
2. The Green Party is still a joke in the UK, despite the enormous middle-class concern for Global Warming over the last few years.
3. Both parties are nothing but foils and distractions who have no effect, and will have no effect in my lifetime, on the real power or government in the United Kingdom.
And none of this is either good or bad. It is just a statement of calculation.
Labour has died. Conservatives have risen. Liberal Democrats have sat on the fence.
Other rates of Change? Notice that the BNP is growing at twice the rate of the Green Party, and is the fastest growing party. Somebody will try to use this meaningless and misleading statistic at the next election to sell Labour Votes to the Guardian Readers Who Can't Do Maths.
Absolute numbers? Notice that the rates of Change are absolutely inconsequential. The combined size of the BNP and the Green Party make up less than 1% of the total number of councillors. Britain is not Zimbabwe. There is no such thing as radical change at an election, whether or not it is democratically legitimate.
Other useful notes:
1. The BNP was only ever useful for drumming up support for the Labour Party, but they barely serve that purpose any more.
2. The Green Party is still a joke in the UK, despite the enormous middle-class concern for Global Warming over the last few years.
3. Both parties are nothing but foils and distractions who have no effect, and will have no effect in my lifetime, on the real power or government in the United Kingdom.
And none of this is either good or bad. It is just a statement of calculation.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Global Overheating in Los Angeles
The ghastly people of Los Angeles already have all their air conditioners running on full blast, and it's only the end of April! It's a new record, and yes, the planet is still overheating, even if it isn't obvious to people in Western Europe, who have had a delayed spring because of the tail-end of the La Nina (the cold backlash that comes after an El Nino).
Air conditioning is one of the most wasteful of all consumer extravagances, and I simply deplore the entire population of Los Angeles for their disgraceful new April Electricity Record. If they can't stand the heat, they should get out of the kitchen, and stop eating themselves into their Obesity Carriers, also known as SUVs.
Lard Arses. Selfish, self-obsessed lard arses who don't give a damn for anybody else. Los Angeles is the Sodom and Gomorrah of the 20th Century, so why should I be surprised?
Air conditioning is one of the most wasteful of all consumer extravagances, and I simply deplore the entire population of Los Angeles for their disgraceful new April Electricity Record. If they can't stand the heat, they should get out of the kitchen, and stop eating themselves into their Obesity Carriers, also known as SUVs.
Lard Arses. Selfish, self-obsessed lard arses who don't give a damn for anybody else. Los Angeles is the Sodom and Gomorrah of the 20th Century, so why should I be surprised?
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
BNP Mayoral Candidate and his Ballerina Girlfriend mother of Mixed Race child
Critics say her views are extraordinary given that her daughter is of mixed British, Cuban and Chinese descent. Her relationship with her former partner, fellow English National Ballet star Yat-Sen Chang, broke up in April
Golly gosh, all the juicy news you've ever missed, and all because one does not read tabloids, yet one has been bored to tears so often by the BBC/Guardian/Independent/Times/Daily Telegraph media bloc.
And updated in today's Daily Mail, one reads that Richard Barnbrook
studied at the Royal College of Art before falling into the company of Derek Jarman, the award-winning gay film-maker who was later to succumb to Aids.
No surprises there. All the pieces of the puzzle are now in place. The Planet, and its many forms of Love, are more colourful even than Brian Paddick's underwear.
Mervyn King, the Piggy Banker of England
I cannot stand any more of Mervyn King. Is he an idiot, or just a piggy-faced day-dreamer?
He seems to have not the slightest clue that as Governor of the Bank of England, his role was to avert the problems we have been building up for the last few years. Instead every comment he has made since last August has been of the "I told you so" variety.
Oh yes, he told them so. So very softly, while pigging out on endless Mars Bars!
His job was NOT to stand by and watch and study the sinking ship of the British Economy these past few years. His job was to maintain, upgrade, re-build and steer the ship. Does he seem to understand this yet? NO.
He is still the Governor of the Bank of England. It can only mean that he has been planted in that position by very wealthy people who need to have a fool in his position to maintain their status quo.
Hardly the sort of appointment one would expect a Labour Party to allow. We might as well all give up and vote for the BNP! Nothing else seems to put any sense into the people who are supposed to be in power.
He seems to have not the slightest clue that as Governor of the Bank of England, his role was to avert the problems we have been building up for the last few years. Instead every comment he has made since last August has been of the "I told you so" variety.
Oh yes, he told them so. So very softly, while pigging out on endless Mars Bars!
His job was NOT to stand by and watch and study the sinking ship of the British Economy these past few years. His job was to maintain, upgrade, re-build and steer the ship. Does he seem to understand this yet? NO.
He is still the Governor of the Bank of England. It can only mean that he has been planted in that position by very wealthy people who need to have a fool in his position to maintain their status quo.
Hardly the sort of appointment one would expect a Labour Party to allow. We might as well all give up and vote for the BNP! Nothing else seems to put any sense into the people who are supposed to be in power.
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