Merry Christmas

Enjoy the holiday season ladies and gents. I shall be back shortly after the new year, revamped and reinvigorated. Before I go, one further recommendation. Martin Amis' collection of essays, musings, and short stories, The Second Plane is a truly memorable read, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. The post below was I direct response to his final chapter. If I were to respond to the whole I could write a book myself. Love to all.

The Great Wall

Imagine for a moment the great reunification of Germany when the Berlin wall fell on November 9th 1989. Comprehend how symbolic that was and how instrumental that must have been for the country-wide free elections held just two months later. Uncanny how the date may be transcribed into the Arabic - 9/11. Imagine, then, if you will, the unforgivable, brutish, medieval attacks on the eleventh day of September in 2001: back-handedly marginalised by the short-hand, 9/11. Comprehend also what a destabilizing barrier that has presented for the awakened world. Acknowledge the Wall. The modern barrier is impassable, unassailable, insurmountable, omniscient. It defines the religious apology, the political sensitivity, the global foreign policy. Indeed, those once our neighbours across the street, now divided by the great wall, are alien, backward and corrupted. Propaganda and sullied skirmishes embrace both sides of the wall. In this case, the grass most certainly is not greener on the other side.

Final Exam

I was approached by my less than intelligent English TA this morning before the start of our final exam and she said sarcastically, "So, Mr Iddiols, are you going to show us your knowledge today?" I tell you what, dear reader, I was a fucking hero. Answering questions, identifying passages, writing essays left, right, and centre. But I'll post a video of me eating fifty dollars if I get anywhere near a grade A. Why? Because they're stupid. The exam consisted of nothing more than a memory test. Fill in the blanks from this section of Milton's Aeropagitica. From which Shakespearean sonnet does this couplet come from. Who wrote the following about this? What's the name of the sequence from which this sonnet derives? Who could have thought of a more ridiculous test, not of understanding, but of memory. Sure, if I wanted to guarantee myself an A I could have spent the last fortnight reading and rereading the assigned texts over and over so I knew them by heart, but wherein lies the analysis, the profound study of close reading, context, atmosphere, metaphor, imagery? It's all left me rather depressed yet again by the state of the American higher education system. I've undergone four courses in English here at Arizona. In two of them I've been by far the best student in the class, receiving a resounding A at the end. However, in the other two I've been left by the wayside, somehow allowed to construe a C regardless of my equal efforts. It's a disgrace.

Harry and Paul - Americans

Something about this strikes a chord. I'm glad to see that Harry Enfield has found his feet again. Very amusing.

On Torture Again

Once again, this blog has led the way in investigative journalism. It appears that everyone has been on the case since I raised some potential concerns about allied "aggressive interrogation" techniques, specifically waterboarding. Bryan picks this up from what Andrew Sullivan has maintained on his blog for a long time; it's morally abhorrent to torture another human being. But David Rose writes online for Vanity Fair, suggesting that, not only is the morality questionable, but oftentimes, it's highly unreliable as a viable source of information.

I spoke to numerous counterterrorist officials from agencies on both sides of the Atlantic. Their conclusion is unanimous: not only have coercive methods failed to generate significant and actionable intelligence, they have also caused the squandering of resources on a massive scale through false leads, chimerical plots, and unnecessary safety alerts.

Now that these techniques are so effective, leaving grown men blubbering in the corner, the compulsion to make something up, or fabricate a guilty truth must be overwhelming. Therein lies the problem.

Damo

Seldom do I come to this blog to profess my wrongdoing. However, it was only my naivety that brought this falsehood upon you, so it seems appropriate. You know, a long time ago now, when I claimed Declan de Barra was the new Damien Rice? Well, I've since realised the absurdity of that statement; knee-jerk reaction as that may have been, I do still maintain his potential. Yet, to come even at odds with Damo, he has to surpass this, and do something quite so beautiful as this. Not until that time can anyone equate to the great Damien Rice. I stand before you, humbled.

Bush

Ha! Did you see how fast his reactions were. He should have been a goalkeeper or something.

In McDonalds

Speaking of which: never before has a title perfectly encpsulated the essence of a musical piece.

My Sunday

I've had an absurd day. I almost feel as though I'm trapped in some kind of flamboyant Pinter sketch. Every time I step out the flat I'm confronted with a world of preening eyes and contemplative glares, and I can't quite decide whether my face is inviting or overly intimidating. When I took my rubbish out this morning the woman who lives beneath me (who, I've decided, is mad) followed my every step from her walkway. I discovered she'd placed her potted plants just under the rubbish skip, presumably to use the shade, but that's optimistic. Then, as if I hadn't quite fulfilled my role as innocent bystander, she marched up the steps just as I was walking across in the opposite direction, struck a pose, to which I met her eye and said with a grin, "Hi there". She didn't respond. Instead, she began marching towards me and then shifted direction right at the last minute. All the while I expected a conversation so I maintained my smile and eye-contact. Weird. I cant quite decide whether to laugh or call the police. Then, as if that wasn't awkward enough, I was confronted three times in the space of three minutes on my way to the shops by the less fortunate asking for money; the last of whom I'd met the week before and gave him all my coins. I said, "hey, mate, I saw you last week". He walked off. Perhaps there's something about my face that's alluring and my speech just turns people away. I'll bear that in mind. To cap it all, I was left bewildered by my Pinter-esque encounter with the server during my weekly trip to McDonalds:

I'd like a quarter-pounder with cheese meal, please.
Would you like cheese with that?
Yes, please.
Do you want to make that a meal?
Yes, please.
Medium or large size?
Medium please.
For here or to go?
For here, please. And I'd like six chicken nuggets as well.
Ok, would you like any special sauces with that?
No, I'll be alright with the ketchup.
Oh, the ketchup is just round the corner.
Thanks.
For here or to go?
For here, please. But I'd also like three of your cookies.
Ok. For here or to go?
For here.
Can I have your name?
Yeah, it's Rob. R-O-B.
Robin?
Yes.

New Look

You may have noticed, dear pilgrim, a rather astonishing new aesthetic to this blog. Grand though it may seem, all should be taken with a pinch of salt. Although, come the new year I intend on revamping the whole stylistic of this blog on my long-term journey towards commentary heroism. Perhaps with a new webcam I'll begin a series of video blogging. Who knows? I'm rather excited now with all this free time on my hands.

Weight of the Water

By Mimi Parker, of Low.

Take a cupful from your hand
Wait for forty days
Make a river through the sand
'Til you're called by a secret name

And the weight of the water has brought me back to this

Just leave me to the river
Let it cleanse my face
I have no power to ward it
Like the baptism of the earth.

Open-Mouthed

I propose that eating with an open mouth is the most vulgar, horrid, repulsive, and leeringly deterring act one can possibly perform. I was sat across from a pair of nerds in a cafe this morning, attempting to enjoy my brunch when the pimpled, sexless, warcrafter sat directly opposite me chewed his bread with all the volition of a starved child, chomping his chops up and down, poking his lips forward and offering his tongue against his bottom lip as if it needed protecting. I had to contort in my chair to avoid the very possibility of catching him doing it in my peripheries. Surely, one of the first things you are taught as a child is not to lean on the table, not to play with your food, and certainly not to eat with your mouth open, especially in the girlfriend years. This may be why I hate chewing gum so much; people feel they therefore have the right to chew with their mouth open and make that barely audible, yet awful sound of swishing and gurgling. If I came to power the first thing I would do is ban chewing gum. There, I said it.

Three Endorsements

I have a couple of endorsements for you to kick start your weekend. First, if you haven't already discovered from my irregular poking, Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo have set up an online Advent Calender. Every day you can flip open a new window to uncover a short clip of Kermodian wititainment direct from the year's archives of classic ranting and banter. Sorry to bring this to you quite late in the Advent season but now you've already got twelve clips to delve into. Secondly, A. A. Gill who I take great pleasure in loathing, has actually written an entertaining article for once between the pages of Vanity Fair. He dives the murky depths of a craze that has since been revived by the movie: the Sex and the City bus tour of New York. Amusingly, before stepping off the bus into an adult shop apparently featured in the show, Gill aptly describes the "buzz of anticipation". Finally, you may have noted that I'm not so far up my own arse that I collect old Jazz records. However, Charles Mingus, who's not known for his piano playing, released a beautifully inspired album in 1964, simply entitled, Mingus Plays Piano. It's as if you're listening to a man think with the piano, and it makes for an endearing 45 minutes. Again, what's so brilliant about the music is that Mingus is clearly not a master of the piano, but merely toying with it, allowing it to take him wherever his ability leads, stuttering and swaying his way towards symphonic beauty. If you can get your hands on a copy, do it.

Paradise Lost

I'm currently reading the Norton Critical Edition of Milton's Paradise Lost. It's a worthy edition of the text that includes outside sources, explanations, and any further reading that the good ol' boys at Norton feel are relevant. So, there I was nestled into Book One, during Satan's heroic speech upon being booted from Heaven, when I noticed the word colour spelt, "color". Now, call me a square, but why have the Americans felt the need to alter the text in this albeit minor, and arguably, insignificant way. Yes, if it is insignificant why would I be frustrated by it? In the same vein, however, if it is so insignificant, why the need to change it? They have not replaced the word "yon" with your, nor the word "hath" with has, which would both modify the text to an extent to bring it into the modern American world. I'm sure the literary elite of America who come to read Paradise Lost will be able to skirt the syntactical differences that, I'm fairly certain, had not been altered from the original English for some 200-odd years. Considering the great efforts they've apparently taken to make the text as recognisable to Milton's vision as possible (excuse the pun), why leave out the u? Typical.

Ronnie O'Sullivan

If there's one thing that proves I'm British it's my love of snooker. One of the many hardships of living in America is the lack of snooker coverage. Soon enough my beloved World Championships will be coming round and I'll miss the extended sets, and of course, the Masters at The Crucible. Very rarely does a wonder strike in the Premier league make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Very rarely does a mighty six straight over the bowlers arm deposit something more than a grin. But I say with pride that a perfect cannon shot off the black to open the reds by one of world's greats sends a shiver down my spine and a tear to my eye. The master of this is Ronnie O'Sullivan. Seldom is the word 'genius' employed appropriately, but in this instance, anything other would be an insult. He's been one of the best players in the world for over fifteen years and he made his first maximum break at age 15. I once heard an interesting piece of trivia that he does 100 push-ups a day. He's also the member of his local running club and frequently runs up to 150 miles per week. Somewhat strange then for a man who's peers are pale through to the bone having spent hour after hour in darkened snooker halls. He's no stranger to controversy after walking out of his World Championship quarter-final match with Stephen Hendrie, offering a Chinese journalist oral sex, checking into The Priory for drug and alcohol addiction, and being fined for ungentlemanly conduct following a match where he was deemed to have embarrassed his opponent by winning the final frame with only his left hand. He is the only player in the world who can use both his hands to equal effect; he's regularly achieved maximum breaks with his left after unveiling his ability in 2004. When he won the 2008 World Championship his 6-month old son crawled onto the table and someone from the crowd understandably shouted out: "Give him the cue!" With a talent like Ronnie's, and his unarguable genius, who could blame him. I urge anyone and everyone to watch this footage of him breaking his own world record for the fastest ever maximum. Further, in his latest interview with the BBC's Inside Sport (bullion, by the way), he provides an enlightening insight into how he sees the game: "Really big pockets [...] I see every part of the table as a help. Even the knuckles." He strikes me as quite an insecure person. He's been known to change his mind between interviews and struggle with questioning. His father has been in prison since Ronnie was a teenager for being convicted of murder, but, if anything, Ronnie claims it's helped him. Ronnie appears quite embarrassed much of the time, not necessarily humble or modest, but unsure of himself as a person outside of the snooker arena. He says he likes the trophies, not the money, he wants the physical trophies. Unlike myself, he doesn't enjoy beating people, or annoying them, or humbling them, he merely likes to win for his own sake, as if he needed any more proof that he's the greatest snooker player to have ever lived, and likely, ever to live. And he's still only 33.

Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, Hitchens, and Waterboarding

This rather strange news development caught me for two reasons. Firstly, the obvious religious martyrdom explication delivered by the supposed mastermind was unusual in that he hadn't delivered such a claim before. One would ask, therefore, why had he not flown one of the planes into the building himself rather than have one of his abhorrent croons to do it for him if he's so beset by the concept of martyrdom? We've been told for a while now, and I believe it myself, that there's a chance the individuals who organise these attacks seldom have the total conviction they instill upon their sycophantic fleet. For example, the recent footage of a drugged teenage girl in Baghdad being strapped with a bomb by a group of jihadists reminded us of just how appallingly warped these people may become under the garb of Islam. What's more, the convict, currently held in Gitmo, looks strikingly dishevelled in all the currently circulating photographs. Is that such a surprise, however? This leads me nicely onto my main observation. Christopher Hitchens' waterboarding session over the summer exposed the lamely apologetic term, "aggressive interrogation" as wholly inappropriate. Indeed, the title of his piece, "Believe Me, It's Torture" deserves our attention. Similarly, I distinctly remember him saying from the accompanying video that "it would be bad enough if you did have something, [...] but what if you didn't have anything? What if they'd got the wrong guy? Then you really would be in danger of losing your mind very quickly?" Does Khalid Sheikh Mohammed not have the look of someone who has lost his mind? A rejuvenation of the debate surrounding the ethics of torture is at stake here and that may be the subject of a much lengthier post. Yet, for the purposes of my current avenue of thought, I simply refer to Hitchens' pertinent claim - if the American services have got the wrong guy, then waterboarding is the best way to make someone confess to something they haven't actually done. Apparently, Sheikh Mohammed held out for an impressive two minutes before being reduced to a quivering, sobbing wreck.

Top Gear Again

Add to that earlier list, Scott Walker. Well done. I see they've revamped their website...

The Big Weekend

I've since returned from Austin, Texas following my last post (which I hoped you've enjoyed many times) for a swimming invitational. I did well, breaking the 44 barrier in the 100yrd freestyle, going 20.1 in the 50, and going sub-1.40 in the 200. Unfortunately, there are no videos from that meet like there were last year, as the distributors got threatened with some kind of libel action. All the results, though, are here. Last year those times would have looked very good, but after the introduction of the new generation of racing suit (Speedo's LZR Racer, and the now infamous BlueSeventy) people are breaking new grounds in greater numbers. Still, I'm chuffed. Talking of sports viewing, why can't I find any kind of live video coverage for the upcoming Snooker World Championships or the England Cricket Tour to India? Surely, in this day and age, there must be some kind of online solution. I'll let you know.

Old Boys Tour 2008 (Trailer)

Here, fine, intelligent, mature, and educated pilgrim is a small piece I have constructed from the scraps of footage that have since been uncovered from my venture into Wales over the Summer of 2008. It's a preview, or trailer, if you will, for an upcoming feature film documenting my, and my two closest friends ascent of Mt. Snowdon in North Wales, along with any of the associated carnage either side. Humour and nostalgia can be drawn from the wreckage. I hope, however, that you can find some delight in the following video. Allow.

Top Gear Praise

I put it to you, dear reader, that BBC's Top Gear is not only the most cinematically astute program currently on television, but also the finest. Over the years Top Gear has gained popularity and a cult following, often subverting the norms of mainstream programming and distancing itself from motoring nerd-dom. What has brought me to this decision is, primarily, the cameramen. Often unnoticed, the angles, curvature, artistry, and passion of the men and women holding our glimpses into the unknown is profound. Yet interestingly, I've recently noticed a growing parallel between my own musical taste and that of the backroom producers. Over the years and seasons we've heard Radiohead, Sigur Ros, Thom Yorke, and, in the latest series, Jonny Greenwood's classical compositions for There Will Be Blood and, get this, Liars. Now, you have to move in fairly specific circles to come across such a band, and have the awareness to play the song they did during a section about the new Ferrari Scuderia. It's the sort of band that never gets talked about in the self-proclaimed, "alternative" music magazines. All in all, I've developed a distinct, unspoken, underground relationship with Top Gear. We recognize them on this blog, and we honour them.

Hollah Triumph

I have spluttered, ruffled, and rollicked my way back to you, Follower. It has been a long and arduous three weeks dearly departed. What can I say? I have entered and returned from what appears to be a highly unproductive reverie of sorts. Not only has my beloved been and gone in this time, but it's also left an indelible mark on my heart that has clawed it's wretched fingers into a gap and pulled apart a chasm. I have filled the void with contemplative reflection, good literature, cheap orange juice, and the proliferation of whimsicality. This blog will have a distinctively rejuvenated aesthetic when I return from England in the new year, but until then, mainly these coming three weeks, I shall retake the reigns of this blog from inconsequence and offer cankerous sniffles and wriggles wheresoever I see fit. How can I describe my early ventures to the nation's Capitol? How long ago those forays now seem. I can tell you, dear pilgrim, that I met your president, shook his hand, smiled a lame grin, and belted my pre-empted attack with all the vigour of a wheelchair-bound war veteran: "Greetings from the Untied Kingdom!". His reply: "A powerful ally". His gaze held mine, as it had done since I gripped his ageing mitten between my veined and gnarled fingers. What followed was a period lasting some two or three minutes wherein I maintained his divided attention. Malcontent with this statement I plunged and probed deeper, scraping at the fleshy remains of his intelligence. He told me that he was having dinner with Blair in the coming week at the White House and that Blair was a strongly convictioned man; someone who has upheld his most fundamental beliefs beyond his time in office (an endeavour Bush seems wont to follow). Here came his only gag, a smile-cracking head-tilter; when a girl called upon her graduation and asked for a job, Bush replied that "come February, Ill be looking for a job!" to the rapturous smirks of college students. There was not a dry eye in the house. And then, with all the briskness of a man who will be similarly riddanced, he left. One picture surfaced of our encounter. Alas, it captures nothing. Returning to the Capitol itself, the stately home of our great protagonist, I can only observe that never before, in any country worldwide, has so much space, effort, and money been spent in dedication to the remembering of a nation's heroes and the honouring of its history. This, I pointed out rather markedly in a short speech I gave at a reception that very evening, is unique. Something compelled me to add the addendum: "even as bereft as your country is of history and culture". I can say without ego that I was laughed at. Heartily, but warmly. Much more is to follow, sirs and madams. My love to all.

Off to meet the President

Well well, dear pilgrim, I travel to Washington DC tomorrow, beginning my journey towards The White House (soon to be "The Black House" as of January 20th). I shall be taking pictures with my solitary disposable camera and I shall be taking my laptop, though I doubt I'll have time on my hands to keep you abreast with my meager opinions and musings. Obviously, however, as soon as I'm out the door I'll explain the intricacies of the Bush family. We're not allowed to take pictures inside the White House, but who cares? I've heard that almost 96% of the Washington populace voted for Obama - what an interesting dialectic they must have over there - everyone you meet on the subway voted the same as you - what a cosy little frame of relationship. From Washington to California on Friday to swim, then my beloved arrives on Saturday. All in all, dear reader, I may be a little stretched in the coming days, so don't expect too much. Nevertheless, before I leave you, I'll direct you to another blog, recently set up by my good friend back home, now living in London, Thom Lowe. Well worth a viewing - his first headline had me clutching my sides.

Obama "Nigger" Cartoons 2

Despite the campus newspaper's reluctance to take me on as an opinions contributor, they have elected to print a ranting letter I sent them, mostly lifted from my earlier post, about the Obama "Nigger" cartoon. Although my eloquent, balanced, robust yet transparent piece suffered a desecration in the editing room, it is visible here. I'll let you judge whether they put my intended point across just as well.

BEE News

At last, there are some Bret Easton Ellis news to tell you of. Firstly, the film adaptation for The Informers, the series of interrelating short stories (underrated, in my opinion), is set for an early 2009 release now that Sony has picked up the lease. There was also a rather strange article in the 'Home & Garden' section of Saturday's LA Times regarding Ellis' bachelor pad overlooking Los Angeles that plays host to weekly dinner parties (one can easily imagine the debauchery that may ensue after a few bottles of wine given Ellis' track record). The article included a brilliant quote from Ellis: "We are pre-recessionary dinner party people. It's always been an easy way to get six or eight people together in an affordable manner and for me to be able to drink without driving or taking a cab." What struck me, however, was a minuscule phrase embedded within an otherwise indifferent article. As follows: 'Melina Kevorkian, the producer of a forthcoming film version of Ellis' 2005 novel, Lunar Park...'. This is only the second mention I've seen of a film adaptation for Lunar Park, and the first I've seen from an official source. This is good news, I suppose, although one is always intelligent to reserve a little doubt - these things rarely turn out as you'd hope. Nevertheless, if these films turn more people towards Ellis' minimal body of work then that cannot be a bad thing.

A Joke for your Saturday

Today on BBC Radio 5's Fighting Talk:

Q: Who is the Sarah Palin of sport?
A: Paula Radcliffe, because everyone's saying, maybe 2012, but she'll still get beaten by a Kenyan.

Barack Obama Nigger Cartoons

On Wednesday evening this week I received a text message from a classmate of mine encouraging me to attend a last-minute meeting concerning the campus newspaper "[calling] Barack Obama a nigger in a published 'witty' cartoon". I did not attend the meeting because I had not seen the cartoon. The next morning, however, when the class met I viewed the piece.The joke ran as follows (note that this cartoon was published the day after the election):

A young girl on the campaign trail for Obama is going from door to door. She knocks on the door of a house, only to find a middle-aged white woman answer. The girl asks, "Who are you voting for on election day?". The woman says she doesn't know, but she turns back and shouts to her husband, "Melvyn, who are we voting for on election day?", to which the man replies, "The nigger!". The woman turns back to the girl and says, "We're voting for the nigger".

Whatever you may think of the comedic merits of this cartoon, I appeal to your good sense, dear reader. If I have translated the cartoon adequately you will be able to see the inherent joke. Nevertheless, living on a campus this size, hundreds of people congregated to criticise the supposed racism of this independent publication. Letters of complaint flooded the mailbox of the Wildcat and they ran an article in the following day's paper regarding the meeting and the ensuing furor. Significantly, the paper did not publish the cartoon again the next day for any of those who may have missed it, even though they ran a lengthy section dedicated to the repercussions. Clearly, you might argue, it's journalisticly irresponsible not to. Further, on the Wildcat website, the editor in chief issued a turgid and bed-wetting explanation, claiming that she, in fact, published the wrong cartoon. What's more, the president of the University of Arizona, Robert Shelton, published a response claiming those who people took offense "are rightfully shocked, saddened, outraged and disappointed by the message this cartoon sent". People quickly demanded an apology from the paper so that "this is never allowed to happen again", and, if not, they would begin to attack the advertising base, from which the paper gains its only source of income. It is here that I must come to the defense of the piece.

There are three degenerative stages of argument from the point of view of those attacking the cartoon. First, it's racist. To me, this is a clear misreading of the piece. The fact that these are white caricatures intends to show the recent cultural shift in attitudes towards ethnicity and skin tone, whilst highlighting the direct manifestation of what the elections achieved for minority groups. Indeed, this is a white, home-owning, middle-aged couple who are, contrary to popular assumptions, going to vote for the very thing they may be bigoted and prejudiced against. The irony lies in their identification of Obama as a "nigger", a deeply offensive term, because this would suggest that they are aligned firmly against Obama, and yet the intend to vote for him. This is not some insipid racial slur against a black public figure from a right-wing neo-Nazi do-rag publication, but rather an independent newspaper carefully providing a megaphone for clever public address. This moves me to the second line of argument.

Second, the inclusion of the very word, 'nigger', itself is implicitly insulting, and has no place in a campus newspaper. We now begin to negotiate areas of free speech. Before I begin, it's worth noting that the cartoonist actually took care not to do this, but rather play with the medium of cartoon frames and chop the end of the word - we only see "nigge" in one frame, and then "nigg" in the next. This is hardly a sound defence, but it's important to recognise the cultural taboo, just as the cartoonist has done. This may, dear reader, remind you of the Danish Cartoon fiasco of 2006, which still makes one's blood curdle at the very insinuation. Their placards that promoted killing those who cartoon Islam, or beheading those who insult Mohammad, were couched in the doctrinal teaching that forbids the visual representation of the prophet. Is the same thought-process not in play here? Is it totally unacceptable to use the word "nigger" in any context whatsoever? Surely not. As I am demonstrating in this post, it's necessary to confront but not to outlaw its use.

Third, once all else fails, it is the obligation of the prosecutor to claim that "the fact that people are offended is enough for me". Why? I accept anyone's right to their opinion, and their right to take offense; but in the same breath, those who take offense must affirm the right of those to free expression. In the constitutional democracy of the United States, where such freedoms should be deeply respected and upheld, it's morally impossible to criticize one but not the other. To do so would be to appear complicit with the Mullahs who promulgated the burning of Danish embassies in 2006, or, for example, support the fatwa issued against Salman Rushdie in 1989 following the publication of The Satanic Verses that led to the death of a translator and countless other acts of violence and open repression.

It is with the evidence before you that I encourage you to give the above motion the resounding indictment that it deserves. It is unsurprising that I cannot link you to the cartoon online. Everything is all too reminiscent of 2006. To demand apologies for freedom of expression attacks the very core of our free society and establishes the basis for a new climate of fear whereupon nothing satirical or ironic is acceptable. Lastly, I repeat my proposal that to take offense is to misread.

Film Trailer

I cannot wait for this.

YouTube Friday

Since I'm quite detached from the British media coverage of the American election (I noticed the BBC has been given quite a rap), I'm exposed to a fairly one-dimensional overview. And, following Clinton's comments, I felt it was duty to uncover what I could from the delves of YouTube to update myself on the British perspective. However, one of my good friends, Thom, who should take all credit, has more or less done this for me. If you're suspicious about the BBC's critics, or wondering what the highlights of the coverage were from across the pond were, then I must point you in the following directions: Gore Vidal raises fresh concerns about his mental health, Dizzee Rascal tells Jeremy Paxman he may run for PM, and, more seriously, Christopher Hitchens throws his weight around on the BBC panel with David Dimblebee.

Just as an aside, Obama's first press conference includes quite an interesting line about Nancy Reagan's spiritualist superstitions. He makes a joke about consulting dead presidents for advice, which is warmly received in an otherwise dull transcript. All of this seems to suggest that Obama will be markedly detached from the religious base. Why would he poke fun at the widow of a dead president without making a conscious suggestion towards a secular leadership? Perhaps that's wishful thinking, but time will tell.

What's next?

Rather than attempt to summarize my thoughts on what's to come for the president-elect, I shall reprint here what my step-father, and lifelong mentor, has recently written to me in an email. I think it sums everything up rather perfectly.

Courtesy of Clinton:

I’ve been reading the press here on the American elections, with large sections of the papers devoted to Obama. I just hope for the world’s sake he can live up to the hype.

All of the coverage is all too reminiscent of the coverage when Blair came to power here. There was a huge sense in the country of a need for change. Blair replaced a humiliated and discredited and deeply unpopular Government and was seen as a fresh “new” era of leadership.

Obviously we saw what happened. The vast majority in parliament was squandered. All the areas where real change could have been made were quietly dropped. Particularly the well overdue and imperative need to reform the welfare state. I hope that Obama is confident enough to surround himself with the right people (not cronies who need paying off for their support) and brave enough to make the smart choices as we all need the world’s only super power to lead us out of the mess we are in. Blair was found to be severely lacking in all the areas of character that were required in a leader here and can only be deemed successful in propelling himself into the league of the super rich. Mind you what else should we have expected from someone who publicly professed that many of his key decisions had the approval of god.

At least Gordon Brown seems less worried about his personal wealth and “legacy”. Even though he is “a son of the manse” he doesn’t appear to bother god too much about the economic crises.

Lots about the “special relationship” with America . When will we ever give give up thinking that we have any influence with America ? Lots on the vast inefficient coverage offered by the BBC. Lots of reporters and hangers on sent to USA at vast expense only for coverage to be technically and intellectually poor. Only their choice of Christopher Hitchens to give his usual razor sharp comment has been praised.

The child is father of the man? So it seems. I have taught him well. Clinton also adds a suggestion to my earlier question:

I doubt that the CIA is going to let a foreign unbeliever and despoiler, such as yourself, anywhere near the president, so I wouldn’t worry about what you say to him. Just tell him you are related to Yo Blair and that you also want a job lecturing to the American public at £250’000 a pop.

Huzzah!

It's happened. Everything happened in the space of about a minute. Obama sat comfortably in the polls with just over 200 electoral votes taken, and then CNN announced he'd won Virginia. That was always going to be one to look out for as an index. (They've voted Republican consistently since 1964.) Seconds after that was settled, the West coast results flooded in to give Obama 297, well above what we expected earlier. We won't know until the morning, though, whether he got to my 396.

...He just won Florida. Wow.

After it became morally and intellectually impossible to support the vulgar Republican machine, could we foresee any other outcome? Lots of images of black people crying on the television. Good for them. Now it's time for journalists to really get their teeth into what's to come; usher in the new era. As fortune has it, I'm meeting the president next week (Bush, not Obama) and I'm open to suggestions as to what exactly I should say. There's supposedly a detailed document devoted to fine-lining the proper practice when meeting the president, first lady, etc. But I'm willing to ignore it if there are any particularly good suggestions. I've already had one, but I somehow don't think he'd find it funny...

That Ad and Religious Repression

Harking back to that ridiculous Elizabeth Dole ad, I've taken the liberty of providing a transcript for the voice over and scenes, but I've also replaced the word "godless" with Jewish. It reads as follows:

Dole: I'm Elizabeth Dole and I approve this message.
Voice Over: A leader of the Jewish Americans PAC recently held a secret fundraiser in Kay Hagan's honor.
Typescript: 'Jewish Americans?'
[Cut-scene: Ellen Johnson, Executive Director Jewish Americans.]
Ellen Johnson: There was no Jesus.
[...]
Voice Over: Jewish Americans and Kay Hagan. She hid from cameras, took Jewish money. What did Kay Hagan promise in return?
Voice (not of Kay Hagan): There is no god!

Do as you're now tempted and start substituting other words in there too, such as "black", perhaps, or "homosexual". It's totally absurd. Paul Kurtz has taken the time to reprint the Humanist Manifesto he compiled in 1973 for this month's Free Inquiry magazine, to which he is the founder and editor in chief. Interestingly, written before the internet took off, he suggests: "Technology must, however, be carefully judged by the consequences of its use; harmful and destructive changes should be avoided. We are particularly disturbed when technology and bureaucracy control, manipulate, or modify human beings without their consent." Surely, this fits wetly under that category. For it's quarter-century age, the Manifesto holds up remarkably well. Is that necessarily a good thing, just like our reliving of Martin Luther King's speech is still culturally relevant? Perhaps this is different. Either way, I wholeheartedly scribe my signature alongside it.

The LZR Racer

Time has granted the Speedo LZR Racer swimming suit the prestigious mantle of the 26th best invention of the year. Perhaps a strange choice, you might say, but upon reflection, why is it not higher on the list? 94% of the races won at the Olympics this year were won by swimmers wearing the LZR. Never before has so much sporting success been down, arguably, to a single component (disregarding, of course, drugs and the Tour de France). This kind of publicity is worrying for someone in my position. The college swimming circuit here in the US is the best in the sporting world, and for swimmers striving to achieve the qualifying times set to attend the NCAA Championships we're obviously going to take every step we can to do so, including wearing the LZR. However, there have been rumours flying around that the board who assigns the qualifying times may lower the mark even further due to the introduction of the new suits. We shall see.

The Penultimate Day 2

"We need to win the argument in the developing world; we need to reach out and persuade the Muslim middle - especially the next generation in Iran and Iraq and Pakistan and Saudi Arabia and Turkey and Western Europe - about the virtues of democracy and constitutionalism. We cannot do that if we trash our own values ourselves. It is self-defeating."

~~ Andrew Sullivan endorses Barack Obama.

The Penultimate Day

One day before the crux of what has now become the only news-worthy discourse of the last four years, and I have found a new toy: a website called 270toWin. By clicking on the various states of America you can tot up the immediate totals for either candidate. What's strikes you first is the amount of land, in real terms, that remains red even though an Obama victory remains likely. If you turn all the toss-up states red, just for the sake of hypothesis, McCain is still lagging behind the magic number. My most positive accounting returns a landslide - 396 to 142. I recommend turning to Slate's final election scorecard, or Pollster as sources of reference for which states you can, or cannot turn blue. Either way, however, it's a game with only one outcome: an Obama victory. All reliable sources confirm this in even the layest of terms. Whilst I'm here, the term "intellectual curiosity" has been thrown around a lot in recent days, mainly dubbed as a positive characteristic of Obama, yet I doubt this would have ever been so externalised had it not been for the monumental ignorance of Gov. Palin. Is she seriously going to stand for the Veep without having faced a press-conference at all? Staggering.

Ba. Hons.

I am a happy man, dear reader. Not simply a new blog, but a new world of undertaking awaits. Christopher Hitchens has been writing a blog or the UK Mirror now for the last few days, documenting (mainly) the American elections under the title, Politics, War, and Religion. Once again, I'm left aghast, how did I not uncover this before? Moreover, you can now identify yourself as a regular pilgrim of this minor blogging foray - please join this very exclusive club by clicking the tab on the right. You are now a peer of the realm. It's time to muster some brand loyalty. Equally as important, though slightly more personal, is my recent dealings with the English Honors Department here at the university. My softly spoken, but highly intelligent (obviously) English Professor, Larry Evers, has passed my name on to the head of the department, a position he used to hold, as one of his best ever students. Apparently, this is a unique and unprecedented occurrence, and so, if I wish to be inducted into the honors department, they will accommodate my every desire. I could not be more proud, delighted, and, indeed, honored. Being recognised in such a way, as much as my ego purports, is highly gratifying. The application process for me individually, I'm told, is now merely academic for paper reference. It made me splutter my tea to read their email - never before have I been confronted with such a contradiction in teaching standards and expectations; on the one hand, I'm receiving well below the class average for essays that reveal a much higher intellect than that of their marker, yet on the other I'm being personally recommended to figureheads of the university. Perhaps now they'll take note. I shall keep you informed.

Something Nisexual

Something that's been on my thoughts now for sometime is the very obvious possibility of a previously unrecognised sexual identity: not heterosexual, nor homosexual, nor bisexual, but rather having no sexual attraction or arousal whatsoever. I've been scouring Google and JStor now for some time and there appears no definable term for this particular sexual anomaly. Although it appears to be acknowledged by some writers on the subject, even the most thorough in sexuality analysts sometimes neglect this latent state. The obvious conclusion, therefore, is that these such individuals merely assume themselves to be bisexual, thus circumventing the awkward questions that pertinently arise. Yet, there must be some sort of distinction between those who are actively and positively attracted to both male and female, in congruence with those who are simply attracted to neither. How could this be termed, I wonder? Asexual implies something else entirely. Nisexual, perhaps? In this sense, we can see how one might simply be nisexual and have experimented sexually with both sexes in a somewhat teenage curiosity test - which do I prefer, if any? Am I simply destined to never have a loving relationship like others report to because of some sort of unacknowledged sexual deviance? We can see how this may result in delusion - bisexuality appears less problematic than nisexuality. I feel there must be some sort of potential research to be done on this topic, or have I completely gone off the rails? Then again, I may be onto something...

Inquisitve innocence stumped again at the Hands of the religious

It still happens. If only this was an isolated example. What 'holy scripture' can instill in humans who would otherwise do nothing of the sort. Alas, a glimmer of guided hope: "militia members opened fire when some of the witnesses to the killing attempted to save her life, and shot dead a boy who was a bystander." Children do the darnedest things. Hmm, see below.

My One and Only

For children are innocent and love justice, while most of us are wicked and naturally prefer mercy.

~ G. K. Chesterton

Atheism and American Elections

American atheists should be delighted that this flapping mess of an advertisement is being widely trounced throughout the American media, calling it the "scummiest ad of this campaign" and other such well-deserved titles. There continues to be a kind of loathing for any kind of skepticism when it comes to the existence of god throughout the election campaign. It makes me wonder whether the bigoted America far-right would actually rather Obama be a Muslim than an atheist. After denouncing the recent preachings of his former pastor, Jeremiah Wright, which I was wont to cover during its time, Obama has had to re-prove that he's a religious person in order not to alienate the reportedly mobile, and assumed undecided Christian voters. There's nothing wrong in appealing to the values and beliefs of a religious group, but why should the general ideology be constructed to eliminate the atheist population? Almost 20% of Americans now profess no specific faith, which infers that they don't attend a church. Indeed, atheists tend to think along similar lines anyway, and we don't need to meet in a grand hall every week to sing and chant about what we believe in some sort of attempt to remind ourselves of convictions we should maintain regardless. As an aside, isn't it strange that members of a congressional flock always vote the same way? Isn't that a direct encapsulation of the fickleness and unthinking of huge swathes of the American religious population? Whatever will become of election campaigns in the future? Perhaps at last, it is conceivable that candidates will wish to appeal to the atheist masses. Obviously, should the atheist population take up a greater role in the public sphere, any political electee will focus their policies or speeches around issues that concern unbelievers. However, it's depressing to hear of Obama or McCain reaching out to "swing voters" through the conduit of faith even though they may only enclose a very small number of the overall electorate, particularly in comparison to the number of atheists. Maybe I'm being pessimistic. Its quite possible that the candidates at present are merely ignorant of this fact and whomever comes to realise as such will benefit in ways never before thought possible by the promulgators of the sickening self-aggrandizing propaganda campaigns such as this one.

My Twelve Volume Autobiography

"I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child, a direct killing of the innocent child, murder by the mother herself." ~ Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu (AKA Mother Theresa).

"We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Sahara." ~ Richard Dawkins.

I have unearthed two articles today that are worth your attention on a Saturday. The first is from 2003. In an article for Vanity Fair, Christopher Hitchens claims a right to his own two cents on the abortion debate: "I claim an absolute right to be interested in the condition of the human fetus because … well, I used to be one myself." And as Dawkins points out in his introduction to Unweaving the Rainbow, there is unlimited scope for the horizons of "pro-life" pamphleteers. Where do the boundaries lie? What limits should be enforced? Are they right in Oklahoma to force women to have an ultrasound scan before undergoing the already traumatic procedure? Linking everything together once more, of course, is religion. In America, where the Roe v. Wade debate raged forever and rages forevermore, religious grounding, religious philosophies and doctrines are the cornerstones for all arguments on such issues. Hitchens also points out that the feminist movement was started in the States, which surely holds some significance. My second article dwells on similar fields and meadows. Richard Powers writes in The Guardian about the million souls who will never exist, the trillions of possible genetic sequences - indeed, the sand grains of the Sahara - as he bravely commits to the unravelling and documenting of his own genetic sequence. Only a handful of individuals have undergone the rather expensive experiment, but all it takes is a wad of cash, a few vials of blood and a sturdy stomach. How different would I be if that was there and this wasn't here? Do I have a susceptibility for Diabetes, cancer, heart disease? Will I develop schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, Huntington's? I struggle to articulate the many thoughts that these articles have amassed, yet I feel the need to throw them out there. To all the two-thirds of America who don't "believe" in the Law of Evolution, who claim they can't accept that we "descended from Apes" (not that we share a common ancestor with Apes anyway, rather from Chimpanzees), remember that even a 99.98% likeness still embodies tens of millions of genetic differences. Powers - "If a standard 250-page book comprises 500,000 printing characters, you'd need 12,000 books to publish an individual genome."

The Day Today

Well, my clan of supporters make their way back to the UK tomorrow and I've just said my goodbyes. After showing them the wonders of Tucson, Arizona I've come to view my current life with greater invigoration. Perspective is a wonderful thing in all aspects of living. Before they left they bought me a tidy bookcase and a neat little coffee table that have turned my flat from a dingey student digs into a flowering bachelor pad. The swimming team swam today against Wisconsin and won fairly convincingly, which my travelling fans were able to witness, and the day's festivities have since kicked off proper in the typical American mode. Although having it's roots in the Christian reformation, Halloween inspires a lot more people to have fun in the US compared to the UK. Whereas the British culture takes only the darker side of Halloween, often employed as an excuse to get drunk and act stupidly, the Americans here promote the idea of dressing to amuse people. It's a communal thing. So far I've seen one wheelchair-bound companion who has customised his vehicle to mimic a freight train (wheels and cattle grill, etc.), and another dressed convincingly as Osama bin Laden. What can one do but laugh? It reminded me of Harry's stupid election of a Nazi uniform - would Osama be laughed at in New York? I doubt it. Nonetheless, the joke wasn't lost on me.

A Love for Turner

Since my beloved, Holly, took me the Tate Britain to see the JMW Turner collection affectionately housed there, I've harboured a secret passion. He is, in my opinion, totally unattainable for an aspiring artist. Every once in a while, talent and, the appropriately employed, genius, do trump all else. And so, when my German teacher convinced me to present to the class on my favorite painting, I knew I had to browse Google for my favorite Turner; I didn't know which Turner, but I knew it was a Turner. Here is my choice, a musing on the Eruption at Vesuvius. Perhaps not a typical Turner, but that's like trying to identify a typical Pink Floyd song. Some works are mesmerizing. This is it.

The Online World - An Update

McCain seems to have lost the election in my momentary blogging absence. Good. My Father, David, has been in Tucson to visit this week, which is why I've somewhat lapsed from my rigour. He predicts a "landslide" victory for Obama. Slate magazine have published their personal voting habits: something that's quite unique in the publishing domain. Fair play to them - they're an online outlet and, therefore, pioneers in pushing back boundaries of journalism. Not surprisingly, fifty-five out of their sixty staffers are going to vote for Obama, with only one voting for McCain, who gave a rather lengthy and convoluted explanation as to why. It does make me question my allegiance; should I be reading a self-proclaimed left-wing publication that will inevitably lead to subconscious bias? Who cares. This seems to embody a trend being set among educated America - Obama. However, let us remind ourselves that people like this still exist somewhere. Meanwhile, Bryan Appleyard has blogger's elbow and has probably suffered sun-stroke in snowy England after his first exposure to lights in some months. He has left a certain character in charge, "Brit", who, upon first impressions, seems worthy of our undivided attention until Bryan returns. Discovering a good blog is a quirky little perk that has the ability to transcend your normal reading habits. Whereas a poor headline might make you skip the article, a blog incurs a certain amount of brand loyalty. You feel part of a mini-online community, and you feel directly responsible for a blogger's success. If it wasn't for my dear readers, you, reading this now, I would have long since turned my nose elsewhere. This is a delightful phenomena that happened to me just moments ago when I scoured Michael Tomasky's blog documenting the many angles and perspectives on the American election. It's a great series of snippets, not centering too closely on extremes or merely quoting others, combining video diaries from around the country and succinct appraisals of certain aspects from the campaign trail. Video blogging is something that appeals to me on many levels; I've always fancied myself the orator, so perhaps its a natural step. Everyone is doing it nowadays, from the much revered Pat Condell, to the timeless film critic, Mark Kermode, to the sweet-talking American, Michael Tomasky. Maybe after Christmas...

The Atheist Bus Again

Just when I thought they'd missed the bus, two come along at the same time. I'm too good for these people.

Blogging Again

Wired magazine claims that blogging is dead. The long lost art of crafting an eloquent and profound post on a personal blog has been overtaken by the media giants who employ a team of staffers to churn out 30 posts a day. This, amidst the essay by blogging community icon, Andrew Sullivan, 'Why I Blog', and the everlastingly brilliant blog on Vanity Fair's website maintained by James Wolcott. Both are mentors and teachers for feiglings like me. I shall double my efforts. People still accumulate every week at my blog in their tens. Nevertheless, I shall provide a voice for the petty few who soldier on individually, offering glimmers of genius in a plethora of darkness.

[rec.]

Having finally forced my Arizona teammates to watch [rec.], perhaps the scariest horror film ever made, I now feel safe in the knowledge that it is a masterpiece of the genre. The first time I watched this I was sat in Houston airport, surrounded by strip-lighting and overweight Americans waiting for our flight. Despite that very real setting, I was totally transported into the terror of this brilliant Spanish film. Following the exploits of a two-person investigative team, that night disclosing the night-shift of the local fire station, we're subjected to a routine call-out to a nearby apartment block that turns very ugly very quickly. We're witnessing the ongoings through the lens of a single camera that keeps rolling and rolling and rolling. It's possible to retain some comfort from the thought that you're experiencing the horror alongside your fellow cameraman. And so, when, for a brief moment, the cameraman extends his camera up at arms length you're suddenly overcome with fear. Divorcing the viewer from the only source of comfort is a genius twist of cinematography that provides one of the scariest bits of cinema I think I've ever seen. Needless to say, my teammates cried out in anguish at the inevitable encounter. I'm trying hard not to spoil the plot for you, as I would hope that you now feel motivated to watch [rec.] yourself. There are even some rumours flying around that the actors were kept in the dark about some of the things that were going to happen, as if we needed any more realism. It won a number of awards on last years' European film festival circuit, including the best foreign language film at the British Film Awards 2007. I hate finishing off these posts with a complaint, but I feel I must. Hollywood has already released an English-language remake merely a year after the original. Unsurprisingly, the trailer contains more plot-spoilers than you could imagine, and the whole production looks too glitzy to embody the same real-life horror that the original so wonderfully captured. (Think The Blair Witch Project remade for Blu-Ray). Why do the American producers think that their audience can't handle subtitles? My colleagues were perfectly fine last night. What's more, they've even changed the name to Quarantine, distancing itself even further from the original, which I'd like to think was at the original director's request, but I fear it may be symptomatic of a typical Hollywood superiority complex. Regardless, go and find [rec.] and watch it. It will scare you like you never thought possible.

Atheist Campaigning

The Atheist Bus Campaign is off and running after some enthusiastic phone calls and a worthy Guardian newspaper flourish. However, as can be expected, Bryan is laughing at the apparent squeamishness of the designers by employing a particular word: "probably". The slogan reads, "There probably isn't a God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life." Slightly forceful in my opinion. Scoff all you like at my hypocrisy, but let's remember that we don't wish to appear as arrogant as to assert ourselves just so single-mindedly as those who claim there IS a god. For the third time ever, I felt compelled to comment on Bryan's ignorance, which you can read by clicking on the link above. I'm always weary of this kind of thing because I don't wish to resort to the same tactics that organised religion employs to pull newcomers. I find there's usually a cleverer and more subtle way of subverting the attention of an audience than that used by the religious. Nevertheless, anything to undermine the constitutional absurdity of the British body politic is worthy of a thumbs-up.

Secondary

Two results from this years' US Presidential Elections: white tweenage girls grow up to think politics is easy, and Muslims grow up to realise they'll never be elected anything.

Petr Cech's Head

Something that's been bothering me now for some time is the Chelsea first-team goalkeeper, Peter Cech's head brace. Cech sustained the injury in a goal-line scramble exactly two years ago and it was reported that the depressed skull fracture nearly killed him, and could kill him if he returned to football too soon. Now, no one applauds his return to world-class goalkeeping more than me. However, since he came back he's been granted special dispensation to wear a rugby-style skull-cap. No other goalkeeper has been allowed to wear a similar form of protection. This was obviously dealt as a precautionary attempt to prevent any recurrence of the injury, but I would argue further. Since it's now two years since the injury, surely his head-guard gives him an unfair advantage; protection would give him greater confidence in a one-on-one encounter with a player, or, indeed, greater courage in a similar goal-line scramble to the one in which he sustained the injury in the first place. Nobody has asked the question, a far as I can see, regarding the length of time that this will be allowed to continue.

Ricky's Religious Rant

How had I not discovered this earlier? Ricky Gervais, now America's funniest man, discussed his role in The Simpsons this time last year with Simon Mayo on BBC Radio Five Live. What started as a routine interview turned into an all-out theological debate with the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams (proved to be an idiot, here). I'm sure Ricky was withholding himself as best he could due to the way he stutters and concedes various points that he otherwise wouldn't. Still, a rare example of someone expressing their beliefs in the face of a formidable exponent of the enemy (with a lot of people listening in).

Human Relationships in Evolution

Just a thought, perhaps even a gradual epiphany. Why do you never see a five with an eight? I'm talking, of course, about human relationships. When walking along the street or dining in a restaurant, or, indeed, enjoying the company of your close friends, seldom does one see an ugly person walking hand in hand with a good-looking person. Before I continue I must confess that I did see an exception once during a meal with my own girlfriend: a fairly handsome teenager wining and dining a rather snidey, overweight, and generally unappealing female. Conversely to what one might suspect, he appeared enthusiastic and eager to laugh and chat, contrasting the increasingly unappreciative girl who spent most of the time skulking and avoiding any eye contact. Immediately, we questioned her obvious stupidity; why waste a chance with a reasonable, outgoing, good-looking guy? Nevertheless, this anomaly could act to prove my point. For some, the explanation may be obvious. However, I realised that this is simply a successful cornerstone of Evolution. We have long since evolved beyond the stage of raping one another to procreate. If we still multiplied through forceful intercourse, I would argue, we'd probably not be around today. And yet, genetic coding is undoubtedly the source of one's external appearance, but surely genetic coding also aligns one's sexual desires accordingly. Rarely do the alignments fall out of place. A ten is attracted to a ten; a four is attracted to a four, and so on. Obviously, the line fluctuates due to variable factors such as, wealth, personality, etc., but the overall trend continues fairly efficiently. You can draw conclusions from this assumption; this theory results in higher rates of procreation (if every male went for the same female because she was the prettiest (a ten) then the other females wouldn't ever be subject of a male's interest, until, of course, the ten grew old or died, in which case, the next-in-line would be similarly harassed and, likely, raped - giving rise to the question of which came first: rapist desires, or this genetic phenomenon?) You can also draw questions from this assumption; where was the crossover point in our genetic history when we started becoming attracted to our gender-opposites in terms of their appearance according to our own. So how does my anomaly compound the rule? If we take my assertion as positively accurate, it's now clear as day - she wasn't attracted to him. She may have accepted that he was handsome and sprightly but that made near as no difference to her as she daydreamed about threes and fours.

Mesmerizing

The talent of a generation.

There's a ghost on the horizon
When I go to bed.
How can I fall asleep at night?
How will I rest my head?
Oh, I'm scared of the middle place
Between light and nowhere.
I don't want to be the one
Left in there,
Left in there.

Blogging

Blogging is the metaphorical water-skier: slow down or stop moving and you sink completely. With the wind thoroughly in the proverbial sails, having posted more in the last few days than in the last month, I shall keep it up. Andrew Sullivan, the now legendary blogger, here, and former editor of my beloved, Slate, has written a piece for The Atlantic entitled, 'Why I Blog'. It's a fairly banal title, indicative of a fairly lengthy and generalised article, but it is, nevertheless, an Orwell reference. By exploring the various motives and perks of blogging, he regularly stumbles upon the very reasons that blogging can be so gratifying. The hyperlink, it is noted, has revolutionised not just the blogosphere, but the online news world total. From the comments I've received about this blog it's obvious to me that my readers have, in fact, taken the time to click the articles or snippets I link to and read them front to back. I shall not for one instance suppose that this is because I rouse so much enthusiasm that it is simply a reaction to provocative blogging. However, it may have something to do with the immediacy of blog posts, and the shorter length of most posts. It's true, most bloggers will simply insert a handy link rather than articulate the overall gist of a piece they have read merely to appear complete. A link is much faster and takes up less space, plus the reader will otherwise be forced to take your word for it if they were not directed to the piece themselves. I wonder how often people do, for instance, click a link embedded in lengthier online articles at Slate. It seems to me that people would like to read to the end of the article before jumping back and tapping a link. If they haven't understood the point of the piece then this seems more likely, but would that not, therefore, be a failing on the author's part? Yet for the blogger the opposite is true. If someone hits my hyperlinks, I must have done something right. By the way, don't bother with Sullivan's article, I've summed it up perfectly.

Gender

'“Brandon, God made you a boy for a special reason,” she told him before they said prayers one night when he was 5, the first part of a speech she’d prepared. But he cut her off: “God made a mistake,” he said.' Hanna Rosin, The Atlantic, November 2008.

Help?

An image has entered my thoughts. A married couple live happily together. They are very much in love and have been since they met many years ago. They are hardly separable to their acquaintances in their mannerisms and points of view, likely because they have spent much of their life growing up together and exposing themselves to the same cultural and social influences. However, they vote differently. One votes ardently Republican, the other Democratic. One votes ardently Conservative, the other Labour. Delete as appropriate. Why, therefore, should either one of them vote? They merely cancel one another. They are mutually exclusive. The negate the other. And still, both feel compelled to do so. Why would this be? Expression? They both accept and encourage the other's right to opinion. Why not stay at home and enjoy a warm cup of tea, safe in the knowledge that, once again, their differences have brought them together? Perhaps they are reminded that roughly 95% of those who vote will merely negate each other also. Perhaps this compels them to cast a vote; their individual vote is not offset by their partner's, but by someone else's. What a strange, and yet typical conundrum this couple find themselves in.

Voting

As if my American readers needed any more persuasion than this.

Declan de Barra Again

It's been a long time in music terms since I declared Declan de Barra as the new Damien Rice. It's now only a few days until he releases his second solo album, A Fire to Scare the Sun, after the cult success of Song of a Thousand Birds. Somehow, I've got my dirty hands on a digital copy, which I shan't reproduce here for legality's sake, even though I know Declan's stance on free music sharing, and, I can assure you, that I was wrong in my declaration. Declan's new album, unlike Damien Rice's second, 9, surpasses it's predecessor. I am the holder of a comforting thought - having uncovered a musical talent so superb that I scarcely feel I need to listen to anything else for a very long time. When the album is released later this month, I urge you to find a copy and bathe in the fluency and majesty of his voice. It's from a typical track entitled, Beautiful One, that I lamely reproduce the lyrics below, acknowledging that they lose the poignancy instilled through his voice. To stem that shortfall, I can merely refer you again to this live performance on Irish television of Throw Your Arms Around Me.

I've sailed across these seas
And I've lived our lives and dreams,
And I've done all the things we said we'd do,
My beautiful one.
The time has come,
Beautiful one,
I'm coming home to you.

One Cell Away

John McCain's grandfather died at age 60, his father at age 71, both of heart attacks. McCain is now 72 and has been treated for malignant skin tumours four times. He is prone. Palin is the Vice Presidential nominee.

More of the same, please

This type of report rarely makes the first few pages of any daily publication any more, but it's central to the state of our foreign affairs. This is fantastic news. Annihilating approximately 60 Taliban militants in one pre-empted firefight without sustaining a single casualty is testament to the prowess and increasing skill of our allied forces in Afghanistan. The longer this trend continues, and the more casualties our enemies sustain, the likelier it is that they lose favour among split local residents and the backing of radical leaders, and the likelier it is that they question whether god really is on their side. Only yesterday did I read a superb piece of dispatches journalism direct from the Korengal Valley outpost of Battle Company. This story ties in very well with the snippets of optimism and heroism that riddle Junger's article. It's good to see the modes of practise evolving, and the styles of warfare turning to our strengths.

Evolution never stops here

Through my continual neglect I've somewhat missed the bandwagon with this one, as I have with many other post-ideas floating around my cranium, but I should offer my two-cents now that I'm an expert on the subject. Prof. Steve Jones from University College London made the statement that humans, as we know them today, have more or less stopped evolving - humans of tomorrow, assuming we survive long enough to tell, will look the same as they do today. This, he claimed, was due to a gradual increase in the mixing of the gene pool between people of differing geographical ancestry, but also because we're having babies earlier; a man's sperm has a tendency to divide with greater fluctuancy at a later age, and therefore, younger fathers tend to produce alike sequences of genetic codes. The latter assertion I have some problems with for obvious reasons. Homo sapiens have been around for 100,000 to 200,000 years, and only in the last few centuries have we seen the lifespan that we've become accustomed to in the western world. One would also be right to assume that, due to our increased global population, mutations within the gene sequence will occur more frequently, which they do. However, Prof, Jones is right to argue that these sorts of genetic developments will likely be quelled as they have little chance of surviving another generation, at once because of Lamarckian sexual evolution, reminding us that mutations must be attractive enough for the opposite sex to want to mate with, but simultaneously because there are now far too many of us for the mutated strain to become prominent and overrule the dominant strains of what has become "normal". It would take two similar people, with alike genetic mutations for the strain to continue, and then for their children to reproduce, and so on (yet one knows exactly where this might lead). All in all, it's quite an interesting stance, but also something we've known for quite some time. Let us not forget that previous Homo species had hundreds of thousands of years to progress, and we're looking at this through the lens of modern times. It goes without question that if we look at ourselves in ten thousand years from now we're likely to notice some very stark differences, from the size of our extremities, to our height, to our skin tone.

Antony

I fell in love with you.
Now you're my one and only,
'Cos all my life I've been so blue,
But in that moment you fulfilled me.
Now I tell all my friends,
I fell in love with a dead boy,
And I tell my family,
I wish you could have met him,
And I'll write letters to Australia,
And I'll throw a bottle out to sea,
I whisper the secret in the ground.
No-one's gonna' take you away from me.

Elusive Language

Following in the veins of my earlier post, the Atlantic last month reminded its readers why they still turn to the back page for the language section. Shakespeare coined roughly 500 new words during his time as a respected public playwright, and the Atlantic does its best to uphold this English tradition, not by finding new uses for longstanding words, but by finding gaps in the language, where a word is needed to describe a certain cultural phenomenon or social advancement. In the latest edition they uncovered one such gap. How can we describe the commodity, or entity, that we see so often when not needed, and yet cannot find when so desperately required? Recall that frequent scenario: walking past cash machines every few yards, and yet searching high and low for hours for one when you finally run out of cash. The winner, which, intuitively, could be used to describe this very practise of word-searching, is 'elusiversal'. How wonderfully that word now appears. I predict a dictionary entry for 2010.

An Haughty Statement

Don't worry, humble pilgrim, I have not yet passed the metaphysical boundary into the abyss. I have caught myself fending off the encroaching, daily-procrastination and hesitation. Hardly the gallant blogger. The cure? Anger, of course. Something that seems to have metastasised into my routine lately has been the repeated misuse of proper lexis when identifying a noun with the prefixes 'an' and 'a'. For example, I recently read a poster promoting a local performance that announced, "an hilarious mix of...". Likewise, I have frequently read in the campus newspaper of "an helicopter circling...". Now, call me what you will, but the expulsion of air caused by the explicitly pronounced 'H' surely denotes the need for "a hilarious mix", and "a helicopter". Foregoing your inevitable quibble; yes, I concede that, on occasion, 'an' in place of 'a' is valid where the other is not. For example, "an honorable gentleman", in speech and in prose is much more pleasant on the ears and tongue than "a honorable gentleman". However, this distinction must be made clear, whether through deliberate overuse, such as what I shall now commence, or through simple word of mouth (literally). Humble pilgrim, this web space is oft ordained as a place of angst-ridden retaliation against anything and everything, this is no different. Combat the frenchification of the English language and meet the problem head-on.

Gone Tomorrow

Breathe today
For what may pass tomorrow,
And hold it
For what may not.
But take the time to tell
tomorrow's boy
That, last night, we
kissed like lovers.

A Great Find

Our forebear, Christopher Hitchens, has written, uncharacteristically, about Evelyn Waugh's magisterial Brideshead Revisited for The Guardian today. He begins and ends by bemoaning the latest film adaptation, which was never going to be as good as the earlier television series (why remake perfection?). And yet, at the heart of Hitchens' article is a perfect appraisal of why Brideshead is so good. If you're studying Brideshead for any kind of upcoming exam read Hitchens piece as a perfect model of how to construct an academic essay.

Mortality

I saw two perfect, unbroken rainbows today; the first in the west as the sun rose, and the second in the east as the sun began to set. How many more occasions will I have in my life time in which I can boast of the same phenomenon? Twice? Three times maybe? Perhaps its symbolic of a latent rejuvenation...

Surprise Surprise

Not only do they pester Stem Cell research as inhumane, not only do they wish to teach dogmatic fallacy in our schools, not only do they support a separation of stately law and sharia law, but they also want to ban the simple inoculation against Cervical Cancer, a sexually transmitted disease (entirely preventable). This Roman Catholic School in Manchester is denying its female pupils from being administered the Cancer vaccine on no grounds whatsoever. Are there no depths to which they will not sink, as they grapple with slumping authority all over western Europe? How much more of this backwardness must we endure before sense is brought before 'respect'? AIDS as punishment for homosexuality; 9/11 as punishment for fag-liberation; condoms worse than the devil; measles vaccines as demonic poison? Please, people.

What to read before you die...

Richard Wilson writes for The Times: "10 Books Not To Read Before You Die". Annoyingly, this was the most read article on Saturday. If you read his list of books, you'll immediately be struck by the fact that all the books he refers to you are either classics (Homer's Iliad) or modern classics (Joyce's Ulysses). Need I say any more? This list reads like a banal attempt of petty polemics that does nothing to elevate my opinion of this, likely, juvenile writer. Proudly, I've read four of the books on the list, and for those I have, it's noticeable how simple and erudite his descriptions and synopses are, which brings me to the conclusion that he has neither read the books he laments, nor has he done even the most basic research. Why was I completely unsurprised to see The Dice Man crop up at number 6? Luke Rhinehart's modern, cult classic is the most entertaining exploration of the Human psyche since Heller's Catch-22, which, thankfully, did not make the list, but probably only because Wilson hadn't heard of it. As much as book-lists often make us feel as if we've wasted our lives, no matter how long it takes, make sure to read those books, and avoid Wilson's articles.

Unravel

While you are away
My heart comes undone,
Slowly unravels
Like a ball of yarn.
The devil collects it
With a grin.
Our love, in a ball of yarn.
He'll never return it.

Tony's Gaff

During Tony Blair's latest cop-out interview on The Daily Show (one of the least funny shows on US television, by the way), he said it would have been "difficult" for him to have converted to Catholicism during his premiership, because religion is seen as "a very private matter" in Britain. Let me explain why he's wrong. The real reason why it would have been very, very difficult is much more simple. The fact is, people are educated beyond the quasi-fatuous, unquestioning nature of American school-children. When we hear of Palin's evangelism, or Obama's devotion to his faith, we're sickened by its welcome. If our Prime Minister proclaimed anything beyond a mild interest in private religion they would undoubtedly be publicly destroyed; it would be, I'm proud to say, an act of political suicide. Let me join the swathes of elevated people in the US who predict that it's only a matter of time before the same phenomenon occurs in American politics and campaigning. Whether this is the product of a distancing attempt on behalf of the British population away from the Muslim uprising remains to be clarified. We've all had a 9/11 moment - it could be the fatwa released against Salman Rushdie in 1989, or the Danish cartoon killings in 2006, etc. - but any act that is seen to alienate the people carrying out these faith-motivated actions is embraced; denouncing religion is one such act. And so, even Bush's claim that he was motivated by his prayers to invade Iraq made many British people choke on their cornflakes. Glad I cleared that one up.

Perfect

Congratulations, Richard, on your new banner!

The Seldom Seen Roundabouts

Traffic flow in Tucson is horrendous, particularly in and out of the university during term time. Parking permits are limited to a first come-first serve basis, and those who don't have permits have no chance of getting to classes on time if they are even thirty seconds late. You simply cannot expect to drive any faster than a cyclist on the inside channel. Gladly, therefore, I am without a car here in Arizona. I zip around on my bike, taking advantage of the cycle lanes seldom seen in Europe. Tucson was built after the invention of the motorcar, and it shows. Everything is wide, angled, and organised, but it is without one important aspect: flow. It brought me great joy to hear of Kansas building nearly 1000 roundabouts in the past two years. Obviously, traffic-flow has improved tenfold. Not to mention the exhaust-emissions that have been reduced by 60%. Roundabouts are glorious things; something that you only notice when you're without them (there is not a single roundabout in Tucson, nor much of the States). Everyone knows what they're doing at a roundabout - you give way to the right, you expect people to yield on your right, they always do, safety and the human spirit work in total harmony at roundabouts. When the system breaks down on rare occasions, because someone is being careless, you feel no qualms in giving them a piece of your mind, and onlookers would most certainly take your side. It is a travesty that most of the south-west has no roundabouts. One concern is that Tucson's drivers will not be able to deal with the many aspects of a roundabout: the concentration required and the various codes of practice and etiquette. The abysmal testing system is to blame for this, but so too is the over-simplification of the roads. Well done, Kansas, set the rest of America a precedent.

Palin Again

The aforementioned covers of Time magazine in the past couple of weeks have raised eyebrows left and right, literally, but this week they've again succumbed to my presumed journalistic pre-glorification. Sarah Palin's profile fills the front cover, posing as some sort of art-house modelle. Somewhat surprising that this picture wasn't used, whether real or not, ask yourself why? Naturally, her orthodox Christianity worries me, and she has a lot to answer to on her flip-flopping on the "Bridging issue". However, Hitchens has dug up an interesting snippet from a questionnaire she answered before her 2006 election as governor of Alaska (which people describe as being typically Canadian, yet having all the signature nuances of globalized America - shopping channels, Burger King, etc.). She was asked to comment on the phrase 'Under God' used during the Pledge of Allegiance. She responded: "Not on your life. If it was good enough for the founding fathers [it's] good enough for me, and I'll fight in defense of our Pledge of Allegiance." Obviously, this only compounds my religious fears, and it's interesting to note that she clearly doesn't know her history; the 'under God' section of the pledge was only inserted during the 50s, much to the annoyance of the constitutional purists. Palin has become a parody of bad soap opera, influencing enough of the fickle, female, Clinton supporters to seemingly switch their political allegiance and vote Republican for one reason only - an all-American Goddess. Nancy Gibbs sums this all up better than I ever could in her essay for Time: "It's hard to watch an accomplished woman walk the tightrope under lights this bright and with stakes this high; we don't want it to look too easy, but we don't want to see her fall."

Election Entertainment

The furor surround Gov. Palin is typical of the media fickleness that encroaches into the 2008 Election every day. Just as we thought it couldn't get any more ludicrous, any more biased, any more divisive, any more irritating, the vice-presidential selections have swung the entire print and visual media back towards McCain. They've even tried to vouch this suggestion, claiming that, due to McCain's years, he may well kick the proverbial bucket before the end of his second (if not his first) term, leaving Palin in charge. I've even taken the liberty of watching her make speeches, firstly at her unveiling, and then at the party congress. One word - vacuous. rhetoric is left turning in its grave. What we have here is a direct attack, a direct pursuit of people's values and beliefs; as if tapping into groupthink denotes good politics. Ha! Politics? I see nothing of the sort here, friends. Listen to her, listen to them all. Do not watch, close your eyes and listen to what they have to say. You will be left bereft, I promise. America has turned even the most boring of current affairs, politics, into entertainment, just as it has done everything else. The election cannot be discussed at length in an intimate environment. Instead we're confronted by loud, headstrong quasi-intellects shouting about the obvious as if we couldn't figure things out for ourselves. Discussion about the autumn general is no more of an election, but more of a Big Brother eviction - the least popular gets the boot, while we make do with the other.

Paradox

The school semester has begun and I'm glad, and somewhat proud to inform you that I've enrolled myself in a "Religion in Western Society" course as part of a general elective obligation. Obviously, I could have chosen from a range of various programmes that fit my agenda but, knowing me, I prefer a challenge and I'm glad to say that it may well pay off. It's a packed lecture hall with little sign of Kippuhs or the oppressive Burkha. More fortuitously though, we will be focusing on the history of the big three rather than their teachings (however similar - they are fairly poor plagiarisms of one another). My heart did skip a beat once or twice I have to say when the professor claimed that the sap secreted by bushes in the dessert while Moses led the freed slaves was an indication of "God being close to them": made all the more remarkable - the lecturer is a devout Christian. I shall keep you well up to date on how things progress. Maybe even more surprising though was my disgust at another elective class: "Planetary Evolution and Human Development". How can a subject so profoundly interesting, with a wealth of fascinating science behind it, be taught by the most miserable, archaic, loathsome individual one could care to meet? Science will never prevail over superstition if it's educational forerunners are charismatically outdone by those of scripture's. It just goes to show how one's entire social map, and indeed, their future, can be formed or destroyed by the uselessness of their teachers. I took great pleasure in striking that class from my schedule.

Special Edition

Narrowly dodging a lighting bolt, not to be mistaken with Insane Bolt, I have found my computer amidst the flood-water. As I type, thunder is, literally, shaking my apartment. Again however, I'm provided with ample chillax time to comment on Time magazine's choice of front-cover from the past two weeks. Last week they adorned the cover with an eerily iconic, darkened profile shot of Barack Obama, entitled The Democrats: Special Edition. There I was tutting, as if to think that Time had forgotten all notions of journalistic integrity and had firmly taken sides. I was mistaken, as this week they had an equally artsy picture of John McCain emblazoned on the front, aptly entitled The Republicans: Special Edition. What I would point out, however, is that the Republican issue is noticeably lighter than the Democrats; perhaps suggesting some kind of party flimsiness, lacking in substance. I have yet to read either edition as I'm now completely inept. I have forgotten how to read, but I will do, and I will report.

Ramble Ramble

As monsoon season makes itself known here in Tucson, I'm forced indoors and, dutifully, I'll post; although, I haven't the faintest idea what about. Well, the Arizona swimming team is being introduced to the crowd tonight during the half-time at the football game. (By the way, if you ponder my opinion on American Football, fear not: it is a pitiful frolic, lamely disguised as a sport with all the veneer of relevance and excitement, when in fact, the games are tedious, indulgent, and, worst of all, far too long.) Allow me my take on the now-altered state of American politics. Whereas before I would gladly maintain my air of overlordship and quibble with the faults and favours of the election fore-runners, I have left my seat on the fence and concluded that Obama must win for the sake of this country. Obama is not necessarily any more fruitful when it comes to agreeable policy (indeed, he seems slightly too lenient when it comes to foreign affairs), but with the future of the United States in mind, in terms of their global reputation, dealing with their antique sense of social superiority, their broadmindedness, and undermining their overall system of backwardness, they would be doing themselves a huge injustice to vote McCain into power. Regardless of whether you fall for Obama's charms, you cannot denounce his ability to lull others into his vision and, in doing so, coax some sense of worthwhile national pride, above and beyond the superficial and overzealous national pride one finds at present. More to follow.