tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78752976020663937502024-03-13T17:52:47.344-07:00HypopraxisThe new listless revolutionTimbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-42239861184285756452012-05-27T11:30:00.004-07:002012-05-28T06:27:08.130-07:00Postcode LotteryWe hear about the postcode lottery all the time. "I can't get the same health care as those people in a different area - it's a postcode lottery." or "My child can't go to a school that's higher in the league tables - it's a postcode lottery." As if the problem is the fact that their postcode is the wrong one.<br />
<br />
The argument is in reality an argument for sameness. Don't have any differences, diversity or experimentation anywhere, because the risk is it might turn out to be too good, and then people in other areas will complain that they are victims of the postcode lottery.<br />
<br />
This is a stupid argument and symbolises a lot of what is wrong with our "choice" based public service culture. <br />
<br />
The ability to develop different types of services and to experiment locally is vital. Indeed if we eliminate the "postcode lottery" there can be no such thing as localism. <br />
<br />
But I'm going to use this postcode lottery argument, for I feel I have a higher calling. <br />
<br />
I am a victim of the postcode lottery and it's affecting my life chances and social status.<br />
<br />
My postcode is not SW1 1AA! <br />
<br />
The woman who currently lives there has the advantage of this postcode. If I had her postcode - I would be the Queen. But I don't, so I'm not. <br />
<br />
It's a postcode lottery!Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-86609795239506159482012-05-27T11:20:00.000-07:002012-06-07T15:07:03.836-07:00Benn's last adventureMr Benn had been feeling better over the last day and was wondering whether he really needed to be going for a psychaitric assessment, but, in their effort to help, everyone at the GPs surgery was very insistent that he at least tried it.<br />
<br />
As Mr Benn approached the door of the assessment centre, a woman came running out and said, " Oh the 2.30 - look, won't be a minute, go in, lie on the couch, will be with you directly." With that she scuttled off down the road.<br />
<br />
Mr Benn walked in, got himself comfortable on the couch and waited. <br />
<br />
Just then, the shopkeeper appeared. <br />
<br />
Mr Benn screamed and passed out, dreaming of travelling down endless hospital corridors, he had a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. This was another "adventure". <br />
<br />
He awoke, relieved to find himself in a hospital waiting area, he stood up and paced around. He couldn't quitre remember what had happened at the psychaitric assessment centre, or since. He couldn't really remember why he was at the hospital - "tests I suppose" he thought to himself, "having some tests". <br />
<br />
A voice came over the intercom system, "Mr Benn through door 3 please." Mr Benn walked through door 3.<br />
<br />
In the room were a number of poeple like himself wearing gowns. He recognised these people. There was Blackbeard the pirate, his old astronaut friend, the King of Arabia and others.<br />
<br />
"What are you all doing here?" asked Mr Benn. <br />
<br />
"We live here Mr Benn - and now so do you." sang everyone in unison. <br />
<br />
The shopkeeper appeared and laughed and laughed until his laughter turned to tears. He pulled off his fez and looked at it. He looked at Mr Benn. <br />
<br />
There was a look of sorrow in his eyes,<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry Mr Benn - I'm so sorry." <br />
Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-28144738428822437622012-05-14T15:12:00.000-07:002012-05-22T12:53:36.313-07:00Only just managingIt seems to me that it is the acts, decisions, behaviour, and even the sheer existence of managers that cause public services and so many other businesses to be as bad and expensive as they are. <br />
Bit extreme?<br />
I don't think so. I'm not criticising the people themselves. Although I believe that at least a few managers, at least occasionally, realise that what they are actually doing is creating high cost, low quality services. We've seen it in local government, the health service, housing associations, and all manner of other more commercial businesses. <br />
Our modern conception of management is basically the same one devised by Frederick Winslow Taylor over 100 years ago. <br />
<img height="426" id="il_fi" sb_id="ms__id880" src="http://www.12manage.com/images/picture_frederick_winslow_taylor.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="279" /><br />
That's him.<br />
He devised Scientific Management. He was very important and his ideas, together with those of Henry Ford, led to leaps in the way manufacturing, commercial services and government administration is organised. A very important change in thinking which revolutionised the way organisations work. The basic principles remain the same today embedded in this command and control philosophy. Top down functional hierarchies, controls, such as performance management frameworks with their "baskets " of Performance Indicators and SMART targets, and Golden Threads, cascading objectives, Mission Statements and the ultimate insult to humanity - "corporate behaviours" (where people are sent on courses to teach them how to empathise!) Bloated Human Resources departments, and Organisational Development & Business Improvement Directorates. It all seems so normal, so par for the course, making up the hegemonic values - the tacit assumptions and "common sense" of modern management.<br />
<br />
However, a new revolution in management thinking is now needed. Indeed it has begun. <br />
Systems Thinking is not understood by most managers. It will be considered alongside project management approaches like 'Prince 2' and becoming more popular - "Lean" as another tool or set of tools. But it is not a tool. It is different way - markedly different from the last 100 years of management thinking. You can't apply it using the same tired old assumptions, half baked methodology and flawed psychology. You can't add it to your toolbox!<br />
'Management' has to unlearn everything it thinks it knows, including most of what is taught on MBAs. <br />
<br />
Another day, I'll tell you why.Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-89534501044844824162012-05-14T14:41:00.000-07:002012-05-14T14:41:03.621-07:00Channel ShiftedAt Waterstones the book shop recently I couldn't find a book I was looking for (It was Jeanette Winterson's autobiography "Why be happy when you could be normal" and it was to be a present) so seeing a computer terminal I looked it up and found it at £8.00 on a list on the web site. At the same time my son found the actual book in the store, but marked at £14.00. I went and enquired with the cheerful scandanavian guy on the till. <br />
<br />
"Unfortunately if you buy it from the shop it is £14. £8 is the price if you buy it off the web site." there was a pause as I absorbed the information. <br />
<br />
"We can order it for you and you can pick it up from here." He said smiling and before I could speak he said "Yes, I know it's mad."<br />
<br />
"Can't I order it? - take this one and you can replace the book with the one ordered off your web site when it comes in?"<br />
<br />
"Sorry - I know it seems mad but I can't do that." <br />
<br />
What was happening was I was being channel shifted. The consequence was that I did actually shift my purchasing channel. I ordered it from Amazon for £7. <br />
<br />Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-47217828307209743602012-03-13T09:35:00.003-07:002012-03-20T12:56:16.869-07:00Mirror mirror.....Our host had been dredging up old jokes all evening. Everyone thought him sooooooo amusing. I didn't get a look in. Surely they couldn't be impressed by this.<br />
He has a quick line every time. But the jokes are old. I thought of them and disregarded them immediately.<br />
<br />
An emergency vehicle, probably an ambulance, goes by outside all sirens wailing, and conversation dies down as it passes. I can see he is ready to pounce with another amusing joke about the lack of success the ice cream purveyor would have travelling at high speed. So I quickly jump in. This will slay them! Just as our host begins to utter, "He'll never..", I loudly and speedily (to ensure I get in before he finishes the joke) proclaim, "That Ambulance, even if it were stationary would sell no ice cream because...."[pause] "...it is an ambulance!"<br />
<br />
No one knows what I'm talking about.<br />
<br />
They are a shit audience. <br />
<br />
I focus on my chocolate tort.Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-67718398265444568882012-03-08T10:38:00.002-08:002012-03-08T10:38:27.657-08:00The comfort of hopelessnessI went to see Arsenal the other night. They were playing AC Milan in the Champions League. It was the 2nd of a two legged tie and Arsenal had lost the first leg 4-0. I had bought tickets prior to the first game taking place. Had I known we would be going into the game losing 4-0, I may not have bothered - not at these prices! But too late, tickets already bought so went along with my mate, Morty.<br />
<br />
There was no tension or stress becasue we knew we were out of the Champions League. It was a hopeless task. We were sure we could not beat AC Milan by the required 5 goals to nil. <br />
So rather than be stressed, nervous and on edge, and because this was a foregone conclusion, a match we'd already lost, a hopeless situation, we were pretty relaxed. Just hoping for a bit of entertainment. <br />
<br />
By half time we were winning 3-0, the atmosphere was so electric it would have powered Bonio's light show. <br />
<br />
But with hope came stressfulness.<br />
<br />
When the situation was hopeless the evening had potential to be relaxing and enjoyable, in a resigned kind of way. Now there was hope. Now there were expectations. We now needed to get another goal to go level and force extra time, or two to win the tie. <br />
<br />
We didn't. But the 2nd half was much more tense and stressful.<br />
<br />
Sometimes there is comfort in hopelessness.<br />
<br />
And having hope is just sometimes not worth the stress. <br />
Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-5998883305261892182012-03-05T01:48:00.002-08:002012-03-05T02:46:35.410-08:00The secret of the magic portal in the changing roomIt was hard being a magic shopkeeper in a fancy dress shop with a magic portal in the changing room.<br />
For a start he didn't like wearing the fez. <br />
The consequences of the choice of head attire, made so many years ago,were with him everyday. <br />
If only he'd bothered to read the contract properly. Maybe if he'd used an agent or solicitor. He had been unaware of the permanence of the clothing choice made on his first day as "The Shopkeeper".<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/images/B001C0BAQA/ref=dp_image_0?ie=UTF8&n=11052681&s=kitchen" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="AmazonHelp"><img alt="Mr Benn the Shopkeeper Resin Figure" border="0" height="200" id="prodImage" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/31GxoTgY2LL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
And just appearing and disappearing grew very tiresome. To those watching (i.e. Mr Benn) he just appeared. For the shopkeeper, it was an experience akin to being dropped by a Heron into a pond. And disappearing was like being plucked by a Heron from a pond. Not really very pleasant. Not very pleasant at all.<br />
<br />
All the time he had to wear this ridiculous outfit with the fez! The fucking fez!<br />
<br />
So why on earth is it surprising that he would want to share his pain? Having to go through this was ok the first few times. But the constant pain of appearing, disappearing and wearing a fez all to serve one man some "adventures" was borne alone. No one to talk to or share in his misery.<br />
<br />
No one to share in his misery....until now.<br />
<br />
Mr Benn was to sample the horror of an incomprehensible existence. All he had to do is find a way to make Mr Benn question his own ludicrous existence, to become self aware. With self awareness comes misery.<br />
<br />
Once the shopkeeper had achieved this, he would at least have someone with whom to share his misery. He would then at least not be alone - in a fez. <br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Alone in a fez is the most alone anyone can be. </span></em></strong><br />
<br />
So his plan was to help Mr Benn to question. Until now Mr Benn had simply accepted the situation: <br />
<ul>
<li>He turned up at the fancy dress shop. </li>
<li>The Shopkeeper appeared - as if by magic. </li>
<li>He went into the changing room, through a portal into another world and at the end of the day took home a souvenir of his 'adventure'. </li>
</ul>
He happily did this for years without question. Never once did he turn to the shopkeeper and say,"This is all very odd" or anything that suggested he didn't accept this as all completely normal. This infuriated the fez wearing man. <br />
<br />
"Is Benn a simpleton?" he thought to himself. "Has he no critical faculties or curiosity about how this all works?"<br />
<br />
The answer had been,"apparently not."<br />
<br />
So the task the shopkeeper set himself was to turn this simple, happy man, who breezed through his smartly dressed life without much care, into someone who questioned and pondered the meaning, but also to bring him to the verge of breakdown. The shopkeeper needed Mr Benn to feel the pain. "Then" thought the shopkeeper, "I will no longer be alone."<br />
<br />
He would use the portal.<br />
<br />
The portal, usually based in the changing room of the fancy dress shop, holds a secret known only to the shopkeeper.<br />
Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-56692533956632320382012-03-02T07:59:00.000-08:002012-03-09T07:47:20.333-08:00A New Day for Mr BennMr Benn woke up. But rather than opening the curtains to reveal a beautiful morning in Festive Road, he extracted his head from a swiss cheese plant. He peeled leaf from his cheek. The dried vomit which acted as a powerful adhesive made a cracking sound, a stinging sensation and left a red mark as it separated unwillingly from his skin.<br />
<br />
Mr Benn pulled himself to his feet. It was morning - he'd been unconscious for at least 12 hours.<br />
<br />
Today would be better. He'd put the shopkeeper and any thoughts about what is real or not to the back of his mind. Today would be a nice normal day. No dressing up, no adventures, just a straightforward day in Festive Road.<br />
<br />
Usually he would peer out of the window and notice the children playing in Festive Road. This was usually where things started to go wrong. Sometimes they played at being spacemen, sometimes cowboys and indians - and this often seemed to inspire his hallucinatory 'episodes'.Yesterday they were all playing Pirates and it led to..... Well he wasn't going to think about that today. It was going to be a nice normal day.<br />
<br />
First thing - cup of tea. A nice comforting morning cuppa to get the day off to a good start.<br />
<br />
Mr Benn walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. No milk.<br />
It was 9.30 am the milkman would have been. <br />
<br />
Mr Benn walked back into the hall way and opened the front door and there were two pints of milk on the doorstep. As he stooped to pick them up he glanced up and noticed children laughing and playfully chasing other children who were dressed in black leather caps with large false moustaches.<br />
<br />
"Odd", thought Mr Benn, "What game is this? What are they playing at?" Then after a moment he thought "At least I can't hallucinate about this - I don't even know what it is."<br />
<br />
Mr Benn was about to close the door when he heard a loud "CLANK." The giant key had fallen from the chain around his waist. He stooped to pick it up and noticed that on the wall next to his front door, in spray paint was the following message:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgava0uVlPsu4jYzLcRX5vyiT7qDw9dsnpU6pa59vBsYdIfJFUeEJRfzg5WMPMCvK5t0fSAL-YNM_d_C_FmiGSM0tW6mQrSGzv3ZAbDnG3XUZEn25H7UOVn_ezBlyH4mwmTZzD5MqbMjLQB/s1600/Bender_Benn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgava0uVlPsu4jYzLcRX5vyiT7qDw9dsnpU6pa59vBsYdIfJFUeEJRfzg5WMPMCvK5t0fSAL-YNM_d_C_FmiGSM0tW6mQrSGzv3ZAbDnG3XUZEn25H7UOVn_ezBlyH4mwmTZzD5MqbMjLQB/s400/Bender_Benn.jpg" uda="true" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
"What?" he exclaimed out loud. The children all at once stopped their game and turned to stare at Mr Benn. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Mr Benn rushed back into the house and slammed the door.</div>
<br />
"No, no, no, no......" he screamed. He heard laughter from the children outside. Not the playful innocent laughter he was used to, but a mocking, sneering laughter.<br />
<br />
He looked in the mirror. "Who am I? What is..." he began to mutter. Then out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something appear. It was as if by magic. He daren't look - he was sure he caught sight of a Fez but this couldn't be. This was his home not a fancy dress shop. His home was a sanctuary. He closed his eyes and kept them firmly shut.<br />
<br />
The shopkeeper, in his fez, carrying 1970's leather costume, wig and false moustache just stood there. <br />
<br />
He could wait....... <br />
<br />
<br />Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-90128486852443805232012-03-01T15:35:00.004-08:002012-03-01T15:37:25.969-08:00Lost Scripts - coming soonMary, Mungo and Midge - The Wilderness Years.Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-21150947392351788802012-02-27T14:24:00.000-08:002012-02-28T11:20:12.930-08:00Mr Benn's BreakdownMr Benn walked down Festive Road. A crushing weight on his shoulders. A dark menacing creature hovering above him. He walked past the children playing on bikes and scooters, flying kites at ridiculously low altitudes, skipping and laughing. Jollity all around, whilst the normally happy tune that accompanied him in his head sounded as if it had been reworked in Minor keys with occasional discordant eruptions.<br />
<br />
Was any of this real? He struggled to remember where he'd been. He knew where he was going - the sanctuary of his living room. The door shut firmly on Festive Road, curtains drawn. Hell in private is the best he could aspire to at this moment. That's where he was going.<br />
<br />
But where had he been? Flashes of images appeared to him, seemingly synchronised with the discordant eruptions in the music in his head. The music - usually jolly and bouncy - was fast becoming a nightmarish cacophony. Images of a hideous old man, strangely attired, offering him a selection of costumes. Yes! He remembered.The Shopkeeper!<br />
<br />
The Shopkeeper was behind this.<br />
<br />
He got to his door and fumbled for his keys becoming desperate as the keys refused to enter the lock. They seemed to big for the lock. They <em>were</em> to big for the lock! Much too big. These keys were huge keys the size of his hand, on a rusty old chain. <br />
<br />
These were the wrong keys.<br />
<br />
He found the right keys in the pocket of his now crumpled and vomit sodden trousers and tried them in the door.<br />
<br />
These keys fitted. <br />
<br />
He opened the door, almost dived into the hallway, slammed the door shut behind him and leant against it breathing heavily.<br />
<br />
The cacophony had stopped.<br />
<br />
Sweet silence.<br />
<br />
Mr Benn looked at the enormous keys attached to a rusty chain around his waist. A feeling of nausea rose within him for the second time this afternoon.<br />
<br />
Mr Benn vomited onto the swiss cheese plant .<br />
<br />
Holding the giant keys in his sticky puke-coated hands he watched pieces of what he ate drip from the leaves of the plant. It was at this point that he realised that they were keys to the buried treasure chest on Pirate Island.<br />
<br />
But that's all he could recall. <br />
<br />
These keys, a souvenir of his adventures.<br />
<br />
On the floor of his hallway, in grey half light, Mr Benn sobbed into his swiss cheese plant. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiD-afpU2-AZvvtixskMQz36fVXdI8a53ekxNPLwrOaBfbit8Qh0_9GS8zUYMoUi7GOHEr_FlP0MglrNiAGTHy-tU2QzHmNvH09Sekx5R8aDYNWSeWCVLwSp4aMHeJ6fiqLriA1HpBUGiu/s1600/mrbenn.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiD-afpU2-AZvvtixskMQz36fVXdI8a53ekxNPLwrOaBfbit8Qh0_9GS8zUYMoUi7GOHEr_FlP0MglrNiAGTHy-tU2QzHmNvH09Sekx5R8aDYNWSeWCVLwSp4aMHeJ6fiqLriA1HpBUGiu/s1600/mrbenn.gif" uda="true" /></a></div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-72089170693754168062012-02-25T15:51:00.001-08:002012-02-25T15:52:18.860-08:00The advantages of being a fussy eaterA single fish (fish 17) gazed up at the canopy of dead fish above and thought, <br />
<br />
"I'm glad I don't like algae."<br />
<br />Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-26131957152135901862012-02-24T09:41:00.002-08:002012-02-24T09:41:07.757-08:00Change LaddersLeft my job today and start (hopefully) a new one in a couple of weeks. <br />
<br />
I'm going to be earning less - about as much as I was earning 6 or 7 years ago. <br />
<br />
But I'm no longer on the ladder.<br />
<br />
I never meant to get on it. But at a point about 10 years ago I found myself on it. And realised I'd been on it for a while without realising it. Once you're on it, it's hard to get off, even once you've realised your on it. It seems like the only way to travel.<br />
<br />
Along the narrow track of a ladder - failure to go upwards is a lack of ambition and going downwards is failure. <br />
<br />
But it's staying on the ladder that represents a lack of ambition.<br />
<br />
I've jumped off - and am traversing in any direction - 'up' and 'down' seem much less relevant. They are just two directions among many others. I now travel in, at least, 3D! <br />
<br />
I think it's more ambitious. Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-54095011209118517432012-02-23T16:23:00.002-08:002012-02-24T08:27:04.926-08:00Things I don't care about todayI don't care about:<br />
<ul>
<li>Adele not having enough time to do her speech</li>
<li>That boxer and that other ex boxer having a fight</li>
<li>Footballers not shaking hands with other footballers</li>
<li>David Cameron</li>
<li>Gay marriages</li>
<li>The Sunday Sun </li>
<li>London fashion week</li>
</ul>
<br />Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-40054845491051219902012-02-22T08:38:00.000-08:002012-02-22T12:13:22.031-08:00Beyond PondSO, I over heard this conversation between two fish the other day........<br />
<br />
Fish 1: Hey how's it flowin', Scaley?<br />
Fish 2: Ahh you know.....the usual. I was just wondering how this all works.<br />
Fish 1: How what all works?<br />
Fish 2: You know - all this....... Everything.<br />
Fish 1: This all works as it works.<br />
Fish 2: Yeh but do you never wonder what is beyond pond?<br />
Fish1: Beyond Pond?<br />
Fish 2: Beyond Pond!<br />
Fish 1: Nothing is beyond Pond.....Pond is everything. everything is Pond.<br />
Fish 2: Is it?<br />
Fish1: Ahhh I know. You've been talking to weirdy boy<br />
Fish 2: Fin, yes I've been talking to him.<br />
Fish1: Ever since the big beak made him disappear and then appear again at the other end of Pond, he's gone a bit mental<br />
Fish 2: That was a Heron and he was taken outside of Pond to another dimension . He says he sees that there is more than Pond and that Pond is just one of many things in a bigger system and that we're all part of the system and we only see Pond.<br />
Fish 1: So you've been wondering about......[raises eyes up] up there?<br />
Fish2: Well you say "up there" but why is it up? I have no wonderings about what's 'down' do I? Down is just hard muddy, weedy. You can bounce off "down". But up is a mystery.<br />
Fish 1: Listen don't worry about all that crap - that Fin, he's gone soft in the gills - Pond is all. The world is Pond. Disappearing and then reappearing must do something to your head. Ignore him he's a weirdo.<br />
Fish 3: Hi can I join in.<br />
Fish 1: No, Fuck Off!<br />
Fish 3: Oh [Fucks off]<br />
Fish 2: Bit rude... but you have a point he has kind of lost himself. I say something, like 'there's some nice algae over there better eat it quick' and he keeps telling me it's all based on wrong assumptions and........<br />
Fish 1: Where? What Algae? Did you eat it all? Show me the Algae!<br />
Fish 3: Hi can I join in?<br />
Fish 2: You already asked that.<br />
Fish 3: Did I? What was the answer?<br />
Fish 1: No<br />
Fish 2: So yeh Fin is getting like all those arty farty Trouts with their Trout Theatre, Trout Library, Trout Art galleries, Trout Concerts, Trou..<br />
Fish 1: Alright get the picture..Trout civilisation, basically. They do a good rock fest though - Troutstival. Man, last year I was so off my face when...<br />
Fish 2: Oscar Wilde said "The only artists I have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists."<br />
Fish3: He never said that. Or should I say he did but only through a character in The Picture of Dorian Gray, but he didn't say it as his own op..<br />
Fish 1: Will you FUCK OFF!<br />
Fish 3: Oh [ Fucks Off]<br />
Fish 2: He was saying that poets and artists are more interesting and fun people if they are bad artists and poets because good ones lose all their personality in their work. He says and that inferior poets are fascinating. They live poetry they cannot write whereas good poets write the poetry that they dare not realise. <br />
Fish 1: Yeh? Anyway....where's that Algae?<br />
Fish 2: Over there - oh no -look. Fin is eating it all!<br />
Fish1 and 2: OY LEAVE THAT ALGAE!<br />
Fish 1: GO AND EAT SOME WRONG ASSUMPTIONS YOU SLIPPERY BASTARD! <br />
<br />
<br />
Fish.<br />
<br />
I just don't get them.<br />
<br />
Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-39269138970903507752012-02-03T11:58:00.000-08:002012-02-03T12:01:12.228-08:00Coffee making halted by milk clogged nozzle - it must be the Buddha!I've been worshipping my coffee maker. It's a <em>Dualit Expressiv</em>.<br />
<br />
Then it broke. A blockage in the steam stick bit (technical term) caused a pressure build up resulting in a small plastic tube being forcefully evicted from the small metal tube which carried the steam to the steam stick bit. <br />
<br />
It went "KAPOOSH!" And then water started pouring out of the bottom of it.<br />
<br />
The system broke down - it had a negative feedback loop - and contained no repairing or compensating feedback loops. It's a simple system operated by a much more complex system within an even more complex system. Yes the last two systems mentioned are me and the universe (and all the subsystems in between - if you like).<br />
<br />
So the<em> Dualit Expressiv</em> killed itself to some degree - but only after I had created the conditions for it's suicide. I had failed to maintain it - you're supposed to clean the steam stick thing regularly, and flush the whole system through. I didn't do this due to my own psychological system - itself reliant on biological and chemical systems and of course all the systems that brought me into being and create life on earth, the existence of this solar system in this....blah blah blah. So in a sense I killed it, and in another sense it was a conspiracy of all the interactions and relationships between all the systems in the universe. In that little machine sat the power of the universe.<br />
<br />
Of course that steam stick bit was not conscious of the effect of it's clogging up. It does not know it blew up my coffee machine. I can't blame it. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: yellow;">We don't have a blame culture in<em><strong> my</strong></em> kitchen! </span></div>
<br />
But are we all just unconscious nodes in a network? Humanity generally disagrees. We can't bear to be that! We're special! We are aware of our consciousness and have the ability to self reflect. We even create cyber worlds in which some of these nodes can ramble on about consciousness. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: yellow;"> But what are we conscious of? </span></div>
<br />
<br />
Being conscious within the system - having consciousness of how things work within it - is not being conscious of the fact that we are actually in a system, that our consciousness may just be a system ,mechanism - to keep the nodes doing what the system needs to do.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: yellow;">What is the purpose of the system? </span></div>
<br />
The purpose of the system is what it does.<br />
<br />
So for example the purpose of the capitalist system is to create massive divisions between people (nodes). Rich and Poor. Luxury and poverty. And also to use up the planetary system's resources as soon as possible. Capitalists and politicians and normal average nodes all disagree. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Well that is what it does. It is either the purpose or it's not working! One of the two! </div>
<br />
Anyway my system (me) does have trouble interacting with technological systems. I have a trepidation in my transactions with things technological or mechanical. I do not <em>hate</em> the technology. I just haven't got my mental model - part of psychological, neurological system - working as part of the flow-through between me and the machine. <br />
<br />
Robert Pirsig in 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance' said that the <em>"flight from and hatred of technology is self defeating. The Buddha, the Godhead resides quite comfortably in the circuits of a cycle transmission as he does at the top of a mountain or in the petals of a flower. To think otherwise is to demean the Buddha - which is to demean oneself." </em><br />
<br />
I think the coffee machine which is made to be a <em>Dualit Expressiv</em> - is made to express a dualistic understanding of the world. Just like us.<br />
That is:<br />
<br />
I and the World, <br />
Spiritual/Physical;<br />
Human/God <br />
Ideal /Material<br />
Subject/Object etc etc.<br />
<br />
It is the way we've seen the world particularly in the West - through Descartes and Newton and others. It structures and fashions our perception. It's part of the perception filter thing I was talking about in my last post. <br />
<br />
Maybe my coffee maker got so freaked out by the sudden realisation of the complexity of everything and the collapse of its world-view as understood through cartesian dualism. And "KAPOOSH!" - actually it was more "KAPOOSHshshshshshshsh". <br />
<br />
It became conscious of itself in relation to it's position in a system much bigger than the coffee maker. It had been a fish in a pond unaware of it's postion in the pond because it's universe <em>was</em> the pond. Suddenly being plucked out of the pond by a Heron and seeing the pond - very briefly, before being swallowed - from the outside, probably unable to make sense of what it sees, rather than thinking, "oh now I get it!", just thought<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: yellow;">"Aggghhhhhggaggahhhahgggghhgghhhh!!" </span></div>
<br />
How my <em>Dualit Expressiv</em> gained this awareness without the aid of a Heron, I don't know.<br />
<br />
Maybe it was just clogged with dried up milk! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-18013061606609785792012-02-02T16:12:00.000-08:002012-02-02T16:16:58.830-08:00Old cheese and world health - The destructive force of creation and the creative force of destructionOld cheese and world health - The destructive force of creation and the creative force of destruction <br />
<br />
So the old cheese from the last post had effects. Destructive and creative.<br />
<br />
The forces of destruction and those of creation are the Ying and Yang of Taoism, the opposing forces of the dialectic in Marx's Historical Materialism.<br />
<br />
It is how systems operate.<br />
<br />
Other than the old chestnut of the need for something to be destroyed in order to create space for something else, destruction and creation are part of the fundamental force. Reality isn't about things -it's about the relationship between things.<br />
<br />
Things are born, they have growth life, decay life and death. Everything is this!<br />
<br />
Things come into being and grow and decay and die. Every movement 'of a finger' (thanks Keith) sparks a set of processes affecting other parts of the system. <br />
<br />
Most creation is without intention. In fact even creation with intention isn't really caused by the intention. The intention itself is caused by something else - or some<em> things</em> else. <br />
<br />
The Universe.<br />
The Galaxies. <br />
The Solar Systems.<br />
The Planetary system.<br />
<br />
The Ecosystems.<br />
<br />
The physical, chemical, biological, sociological, psychological and multitudinous other systems - all caused and causing at the same time. Causation is complex.<br />
<br />
All things come into being (brought into being), and die having touched and affected other things. <br />
<br />
And in relationships with other things, setting off processes, sparking formations of systems.<br />
<br />
Without the relationships, sustained by the systems, things that come into being would immediately die - at the exact point of birth. So cannot be considered to exist. And so could not have birth or death. And so I cannot speak of it.<br />
<br />
Destruction is an essential element in this. <br />
<br />
And yet we - I'm thinking less cosmically now - and so when I say "we" I refer to people (humans) rather than everything and every relationship between every thing that we know of or has been conceived (by humans) - we people, in "today's society", have a bit of a downer on destruction in general. I don't mean a downer on just wars, and acts of violence ( I think it's ok to have a downer on wars and acts of violence - call me old fashioned...) There is a negative connotation to the word. It is seen as a bad thing. Creation is good, destruction is bad.<br />
<br />
But every act of creation requires an act of destruction. Writing this is destructive and creative.<br />
<br />
Sketching people on trains is an act of wanton destruction.<br />
<br />
A blank sheet of paper, pure and perfect, is destroyed by physically scarring it with graphite. The life of the blank sheet is destroyed. It's blank sheetedness, with the cool deliberation of a psychopath, brought an end.<br />
<br />
Potential gone.<br />
Potential achieved. <br />
<br />
Destroyed by creation. <br />
Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-9128412623287912512012-01-31T06:53:00.000-08:002012-01-31T06:53:36.423-08:00<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm 48 today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thought I'd better come back here and write something. It's not much. Just something. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been 6 months since I posted anything. And that was 'just something' too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like writing stuff, but need to make it habitual. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What is the point?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Does there have to be a point? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think there has to be a purpose. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think it is to ask people to see the world through my eyes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To communicate something that may, in whatever small way possible, have an effect. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The hope being that something, however small and nebulous, or wide and vacuous, or tall and ridiculous, mind expansive or a bit funny, or not.....but that something is sticky enough to attach itself to someone elses perception-filter-mechanism-thing. That is a technical term.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is that what it's about? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe? Sort of. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everything has an effect. By writing something there is an effect. By not writing something there is an effect. It's all part of a massively complex system that we can't see - but can only glimpse parts of. And even if we saw the entire sum of all parts they do not constitiute the whole. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The whole is more. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So what's it got to do with the price of cheese?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cheese I threw away into the bin this morning, because it looked manky, might have made me ill had I eaten it. It may have infected my gut with bacteria which, in interaction with other microbes, could have killed me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By throwing it away I may have extended my life. This may or may not have benefits for humanity - I may live to do something great, or good, or do something that consciously or unconsciously leads someone else to do something good.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or bad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cheese I threw may have led to a fox on a rubbish dump gaining the additonal calorific value and nutrition needed to go back into the garden from whence he came. Or lie in the driveway of the house, tripping the man as he hurried to work. Preventing the man from running in front of the Renault Clio that was speeding to get to the hospital before the child in the back lapsed into a final coma. Saving both the tripped man and the young boy from imminent death. And allowing the man to live on and invent the medical cure which saves a million lives in the third world. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Only for them all to be killed in the volcanic eruption. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Should I carry on with this blog writing lark? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The consequences could be catastrophic. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or glorious. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or neither.</span> </span>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-42999726029664540422011-07-18T05:24:00.000-07:002011-07-18T05:24:56.831-07:00Coffee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MRGjqZuMP9UJ2QCF_xT3Kc02ys1O6iMSLMXiSoHqG68ZMfZMldlVPjOtOb20A4h6gbDUGjS4H6lbha58iHhtp2HP5QyQGtqkUjaudGr6bZD8I6aO-J8NQKfyFHPa8WGWuAjjde36LrCN/s1600/Coffee+man+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MRGjqZuMP9UJ2QCF_xT3Kc02ys1O6iMSLMXiSoHqG68ZMfZMldlVPjOtOb20A4h6gbDUGjS4H6lbha58iHhtp2HP5QyQGtqkUjaudGr6bZD8I6aO-J8NQKfyFHPa8WGWuAjjde36LrCN/s640/Coffee+man+001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Hmm Coffee.<br />
I asked Uncle Chris to draw me coffee - and all that entailed.<br />
So this is what I think when I think of coffee.<br />
Hmmmm. Damn fine.Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-70271245040546291252011-07-12T12:53:00.001-07:002011-07-18T05:37:25.591-07:00Awkward<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I want to write about the awkwardness felt due to misunderstanding a social situation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The other day at work I came out of a meeting and praised someone for something I thought they had said only to find out they were actually saying the opposite. I think this person was probably articulating her thoughts badly but nevertheless it was a bit awkward, after initially having a moment of bonding, for the atmosphere of camaraderie to be shattered when she went on to explain more and in so doing revealed that we in fact completely disagreed. Indeed we had opposing points of view! The conversation kind of fizzled away with me saying, “It appears we will, in the end, have to agree to disagree.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I sloped off awkwardly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It wasn’t an extreme situation such as possibly applauding someone for a feat of courage only for them to say something like, “Er, well no, actually, bit awkward, but I.. er... I wasn’t trying to save her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was trying to rape her!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would you say in that situation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ahh – well I suppose we will have to agree to disagree. And I must say I don’t really approve of raping. But, hey – live and let live.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Comedians – especially clever ones using heavy, sometimes multi-layered irony, can be confusing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take Al Murray for instance. Some of his fans (and I know this to be true) are actually xenophobes and harbour terrible prejudices which I believe Al Murray is mocking in his portrayal of the pub landlord. Alf Garnett had the same problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whereas Jim Davidson, as Stewart Lee states in one of his old stand up shows, is not a comedian “who is troubled by duality of meaning”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Stewart Lee himself could be immensely confusing for those who like to take things literally or at face-value. Sometimes the levels of his irony mean that he is not necessarily even saying the opposite of what he appears to be saying and slips from simple irony – with dual meaning - to a more complex level of meaning. This could be very difficult for some. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where Stewart Lee is concerned, I think I get it. But maybe I don’t - in which case I’m inventing my own comedy through my interpretation of his work. This links back to an interesting discussion on the blog of an old friend - “Lining A Drawer” - about art and the importance of the ‘viewer’ (his blog is excellent sketches mainly of people – some actual skill involved, unlike these ramblings which are really just outpourings).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway that is art – whether written, painted, drawn, constructed, spoken or whatever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In real life which can often, as we know, imitate art, misunderstandings are part and parcel of the awkwardness of human interaction. This often comes from a sudden change in relationship. One minute you’re talking to a soul mate on your wave length, thinking the same. The next you realise that you have completely misunderstood the situation and that this ‘brother in arms’ is actually someone who holds views that are the epitome of everything you hate - a complete anathema. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This little story of an every everyday situation (a true one) is not so dramatic but illustrates the awkwardness caused by a sudden change in the perception of a relationship. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This happened to my good mate Morty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Morty went to the pub to watch the Champions League Final with a couple of friends. All were looking forward to seeing Man United well beaten by Barcelona (which is what happened) though any malevolence was soon vaporised by Barcelona’s fire!....! The sheer brilliance and total dominance of the Barcelona team would have beaten any team that has ever been.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, Morty and his mates arrive at the pub, get a drink and find a good place to view the screen. It was about 7pm with kick-off at 7.45pm. The pub was fairly empty and they headed toward the best table. As Morty approached the prime seats, he noticed a sheet of paper on the table with words written on it in black marker pen and double underlined in red, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u style="text-underline: red double;">“Table reserved for Mark from 7.30”</u></b>. There was general disgruntlement among Morty’s small party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You can’t reserve a seat in a pub!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Apparently you can”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What a wanker Mark must be.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Shall we sit here anyway?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After much mumbling and grumbling, during which they debated sitting there anyway and coming to the conclusion that if they did that and then were forced to move later, they may not get another seat at all. So the three sat at a nearby table – the second best position in the bar for football watching. Morty’s friends soon forgot about the reserved table and let the resentment go. Unfortunately, Morty was unable to, and kept thinking about the injustice of it, despite having a good seat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Morty watched other customers walk into the bar and approach the table before seeing the sign and turning away. He was hoping to catch their eye so he could share his annoyance with other like minded pub-football fans. There was a tall bloke with a small dog, a short bloke with a tall girlfriend, two bearded blokes with a bespectacled woman, some Dad’s with their sons, a group of young men and women in shorts and sunglasses, and a stocky man with bushy eyebrows, who Morty managed to exchange glances with as he turned away from the offending<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>reserved sign, achieving a recognition response in the form of a raised bushy eyebrow. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Morty had got on to pint number three and was feeling emboldened by it, when in walked another punter with his teenage son and walked towards the reserved table, which by now was the only good seat left in the bar. Morty maintained vigilance and as this guy approached the table he hoped for a nod or another raised eyebrow. But he didn’t turn away or meet Morty’s eye. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He looked around the room picked up the sheet of paper which said <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u style="text-underline: red double;">“Reserved for Mark from 7.30”,</u></b> screwed it up, threw it towards a bin and sat down. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Brilliant!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Morty stood up, applauded this act and offered words of encouragement,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yeh wehey, well done mate. Good on you.” </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Although the man looked a little confused, Morty felt he had found a like mind, a soul mate, someone who saw the world as he saw it, and so continued, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I fucking hate people who reserve tables in pubs – I mean you can’t reserve a table in a pub can you? Well done mate – yeh.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The man turned to Morty and said, </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No mate.....I’m Mark!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><u style="text-underline: double;"></u></div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-82282501034339074772011-06-29T09:44:00.000-07:002011-06-29T09:44:05.840-07:00Now it’s over – No, I mean it’s really over. So please, now just stop it! More thoughts on the demise of a once great festival.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Glastonbury closes for another year, not to return until 2013. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I’d sooner it didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Billy Bragg defended it on Facebook saying that what you see on the BBC was the sanitised face, albeit covered in mud – sanitised mud. There was still the Leftfield and loads of great stuff still going on in this amazing city of tents in mud. And that may be true. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I watched the audience – those revellers - when Beyonce was on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For God’s sake Beyonce was on! I don’t need to justify my position by describing the commoditised pop-crowd – of course they were there – because Beyonce was headlining the final night. Surely that is enough. And Glastonbury revellers may say – “Well actually you had to be there because you know what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beyonce was really good!” And I say “Yes, well you would say that, Glastonbury reveller, wouldn’t you? I would rather be a doggy treat in a pen full of Pit Bull Terriers than be ‘there’”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Glastonbury revellers are reflected in the BBCs pappy, pointless presenters. To quote, quite aptly, from John Osborne’s “Look Back in Anger” (No, slightly older Glastonbury revellers – not, Oasis!) BBC presenters, “You are sycophantic, phlegmatic and pusillanimous, do you know what that means? It means, Soapy, Stodgy and Dim” – you can work out who is who. Fearne Cotton has to be ‘Dim’ though doesn’t she?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Billy Bragg said that people now see it as their annual holiday – Glastonbury camping for few days. So it has become the new Butlins. And you do have to “Book Early”! Actually that was marketing campaign for Pontins (which was the Hop Farm Festival of the Holiday Camp universe – not quite as big and flashy as Butlins but still at least had some integrity!) I always thought Fred Pontin had the moral high ground over Billy Butlin, and the biggest thumb!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The other festivals springing up are becoming less generic. Now we’ve got Feastival to look forward to this weekend.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chefs! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why not festivals featuring people from other professions – Bankers, Architects, System Process Engineeers? How about Priestival? Marine Biologistival or even a Festival Promoterstival.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now allow me to rock slightly in this chair of nostalgia. *Gentle rocking sound eases into a rhythm*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In my day, when it was good - remember I talked about this before? When young people who were young people when we were young people, were young people, it was better. It was though, wasn’t it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I guess you could say it is good that nowadays when some people at Glastonbury try to inflate a big balloon that told Bonio from U2 to pay his tax, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gangs of security guards appear from the shadows to prevent this terrible dangerous act and in the process beat up a few of these terrorists.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You could say this was progress. Things have changed. We can’t have people terrorising Bonio and publicising the fact that he moves funds around to avoid paying tax in Ireland? This guy is a Saint with all the charity work he does - regularly getting other people to give their money to good causes. You could say all this – and you probably would if you were Glastonbury reveller.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This guy could give <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i></b> his wealth away <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right now</i></b> and still be richer than most of us within a few minutes - certainly within the hour. That would be useful! </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Other than that, the only use for Bonio is as a healthy treat for dogs; rich, as he is, in marrow bone if not in talent. He contains vitamins and minerals if not managing to contain his own ridiculous ego.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> If only we could find a pen full of Pit-Bull Terriers! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Glastonbury of old [*the chair still rocks*] didn’t hire bouncers like this, and if there had been any, there is no way they would have managed to prevent the inflation of the giant ‘Bonio Balloon’. Even if it had been only 10 or so people instigating this act there would have been enough others who would have, on principle prevented the security guards from their oppressive activities. That’s the difference! Once free expression reigned – now you’re free to revel but within very strict parameters – there’s probably a corporate policy on it somewhere in a filing cabinet in ‘Eavis the younger’s’ bedroom next to a report on a new ‘branding’ for Glastonbury. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But the bands and the BBC crew remained quiet about the brutal actions of the Glastonbury Stasi. Stooges - along with all the bands who said nothing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The BBC crew thought U2 were spectacular. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Coldplay was a “Triumph” according to Mark Radcliffe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s depressing. Let’s talk no more of the BBC coverage – that’s just a part of the problem. The conveyor of the brand. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So it’s, “No, it wouldn’t be Glastonbury without the mud would it?” Those very words are probably written on a page which has the heading “Branding Ideas – turn a negative into a corporate ‘kerching’”. Also on another page entitled –“Ideas for achieving corporate goal of market re-focus – subtle realignment of the brand”. And on this page is written –“Bland BBC presenters together with ideal mind-dulling line up – U2, Coldplay, Beyonce.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then on another page “The future – 2013: 3 nights of Justin Bieber!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-6584784387980841932011-06-20T17:18:00.000-07:002011-06-21T15:06:53.035-07:00Glastonbury - just another commodity<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s “Festival Season”. It’s the big one this weekend. Glastonbury - now the most recognisable among the plague of festivals taking place all over the country. Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall is headlining one of them! I think he's going to start with some wild foraged mushrooms and save his 27 bird roast for an encore. But he really is headlining and there are other chefs on! There are Classical chefs, Rock Chefs, Dubstep Chefs- all the genres of Chef. In the spirit of all current festivals there will be special appearances from old re-formed Chefs you thought were dead. So two fat ladies are back, the Gallopping Gourmet and of course Fanny Craddock. You thought they were dead didn't you. Oh no - just meticulously planning the revival tour. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">It was very different in my day. *Rocking Chair creaks rhythmically*</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">I first went to Glastonbury in 1986. It had already been going for years, since the early 70’s, on and off. But it did have the feel of something anarchic, and counter cultural. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Today’s Glastonbury strikes me as being a corporate, theme-park, media event based on the memory of what used to be a brilliant festival. It has been, unfortunately, the victim of its own success. Like so much art is. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">And this year they’re having U2. </span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s been building to this over the years. It’s been heading in this direction. Bonio gets to inflict his personality - if it can be, if only on a technicality, described as such - on the Glastonbury revellers. Isn’t that what they are now? Glastonbury revellers. Revelling away in some fields in Somerset. They used to be Glastonbury Hippies, and Glastonbury travellers, lefties, anarchists and ban the bomb weirdo’s. Now they’re “revellers”. “Tourists” maybe? Serial festival goers? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">They’ve had Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney and a host of other old artists. In fact most years now it seems to be predominantly old or revival acts with a few modern pop stars thrown in. I know that on the smaller stages there are still good acts but they are more of a fringe thing now as the event becomes more mainstream, less radical, more corporate, less exciting - and attracts “revellers”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">It's all been absorbed. It's all been contained, sanitised and re positioned in the market; a subtley altered brand like so many other commodities. The festivals, the bands, the revellers - all commodities. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">The Dead Kennedy’s, way back in the eighties, wrote a song called Halloween. The lyrics are written below but with the word ‘Glastonbury’ substituting for the word Halloween. It’ a kind of heavy, punky song - if you don’t know it - like we used to have in the eighties, when it was proper Glastonbury, with proper young people like we used to have when we were young people. It's different now. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt-jnzlYNyM">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt-jnzlYNyM</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">*Rocking Chair continues to rock rhythmically to the song* </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Glastonbury</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;">Whatcha gonna be<br />
Babe, you better know<br />
And you better plan<br />
Better plan all day <br />
<br />
Better plan all week<br />
Better plan all month<br />
Better plan all year <br />
<br />
You're dressed up like a clown<br />
Putting on your act<br />
It's the only time all year<br />
You'll ever admit that <br />
<br />
I can see your eyes<br />
I can see your brain<br />
Baby, nothing's changed<br />
(repeat) <br />
<br />
You're still hiding in a mask<br />
You take your fun seriously<br />
No, don't blow this year's chance<br />
Tomorrow your mold goes back on <br />
<br />
After Glastonbury <br />
<br />
You go to work today<br />
You'll go to work tomorrow<br />
Shitfaced tonight<br />
You'll brag about it for months <br />
<br />
Remember what I did<br />
Remember what I was<br />
Back at Glastonbury <br />
<br />
But what's in between<br />
Where are your ideas<br />
You sit around and dream<br />
For next Glastonbury <br />
<br />
Why not everyday<br />
Are you so afraid<br />
What will people say<br />
(repeat) <br />
<br />
After Glastonbury <br />
<br />
Because your role is planned for you<br />
There's nothing you can do<br />
But stop and think it through<br />
But what will the boss say to you <br />
<br />
And what will your girlfriend say to you<br />
And the people out on the street they might glare at you<br />
And whadya know you're pretty self-conscious too <br />
<br />
So you run back and stuff yourselves in rigid business costumes<br />
Only at night to score is your leather uniform exhumed<br />
Why don't you take your social regulations<br />
And shove 'em up your ass <br />
Why don't you take your social regulations<br />
And shove 'em up your ass <br />
Why don't you take your social regulations<br />
And shove 'em up your ass</span></div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-52552394885168166632011-06-18T12:28:00.000-07:002011-06-18T15:54:38.277-07:00By Jove, Mr Gove. It turns out you're a State Apparatchik!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been a bit strange and quiet around the house this week as my son, Alex, has gone to Sweden with his school. I can actually get to use the computer! But I best make the most of it as he’s back tonight. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I’ve been considering education. Alex’s school is an academy school that is now being run on the principles (supposedly) of the Swedish Kunskappskolen schools. So that's why they've gone to Sweden - to look at the real thing, without the suffocation of the heavy pillow of the National Curriculum. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael Gove made lots of positive noises immediately following the election about removing the state control of the curriculum, freeing schools to teach and educate without ministerial interference. He gave the impression that the days of targets, league tables, prescriptive inspection regimes, micromanagement from ministers, and the dull uniformity of the National Curriculum were to be consigned to the past as an historic example of New Labour’s obsessive command and control managerial style. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Hooray', I thought when Gove said on the radio that there were no deadlines (just another form of target) for the implementation of free schools – they can take their time, decide what’s best for the children in their area. Put some trust in the teachers – they are the educational professionals, not ministers. Teachers, parents and children working together to do the best they could. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeh, right! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was an idiot to believe, even fleetingly, that they were any different. These are just posher versions of New Labour. New Labour which itself had mutated and evolved into Thatcherism with only the last vestige of social conscience, and that was about to be naturally selected out of the New Labour gene pool due to lack of use. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Gove has taken the New Labour fixation with targets, league tables and statist control, and fashioned it to his own prejudices. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> T</span>argets have not been scrapped, but been changed to fit Gove's own educational preferences. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So his English Baccalaureate now has targets that he prefers – they’re tougher targets too, so they must be better! [Targets are instruments which are arbitrarily devised and give control freaks the illusion of control but always make performance worse.] </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The answer to schools that don’t hit his targets is to close them and set them up as academies or free schools. </span></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And league tables stay. So schools are free to follow the new national curriculum (Michael Gove’s latest radical insight leads to the conclusion that History should be taught chronologically – because his daughter is confused by studying Vikings after studying the Tudors!) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I get the feeling far from making education a more enjoyable experience he will preside over making it more of a stressful chore. We will churn out fewer media studies students because Gove doesn’t consider it a proper subject (and I can’t say I don’t have some sympathy with this) but will want more people schooled in Latin and memorising things he thinks are most important - learning by drill. Any joy that can be derived from learning will be squeezed out. It brings to mind the experience of Mr Polly in the HG Wells novel, where, following schooling:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“He thought of the present world no longer as a wonderland of experiences, but as geography, and history, as the repeating of names that were hard to pronounce, and lists of products and populations and heights and lengths, and as lists and dates – oh! and Boredom indescribable.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was having some fun with my son choosing incongruent adjective/noun or verb combinations. We came up with such combinations as ‘lovely bastard’, “a gorgeous stabbing”, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>’beautiful din’, and, borrowed from a classic comedy duo, a ‘fine mess’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">On other occasions we talk about nanotechnology, the length of time light takes to reach us from distant stars, the struggle for democracy in the Middle East and all kinds of interesting things. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Why don’t we learn about things like this in school?” he has asked on more than one occasion?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Not on the curriculum.” I say, “It’s more important that you do the Tudors – again!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Why is that more important Dad? “ </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Because the Government says so son – the Government knows best.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“But Michael Gove wants to change it doesn’t he Dad? He wants freedom for schools.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well son, he wants freedom for people to pay less tax for schools. But he has different things he wants you to learn about – and in a different order. You probably get confused by studying ancient Egypt after you’ve studied the First World War – don’t you. Well Michael Gove wants to help you. No longer will children have to think that Vikings were more recent than Hitler. We should thank Michael Gove.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Will we be able to do incongruent adjective/ noun or verb combinations – like ‘you marvellous bore’?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“No son, he’ll only let you learn traditional things - so it’s only traditional adjective/noun combinations I’m afraid. He’ll probably ban Laurel and Hardy as distorting young minds.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“Really? I don’t think I like him after all, dad. Not if we have to do traditional, congruent adjective/noun combinations ”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hmm – maybe you’re right. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Michael Gove is a terrible cunt.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-16689685284096577072011-06-11T13:43:00.000-07:002011-06-11T13:52:04.886-07:00Christianity, Paganism, Humanism or Bunnyism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36D2wiHFZdwkyPMBKFukrx5DTpa4opDBtEbEvyGAja57h0odZZgepVuo9tuQxc35YNEhFYyTvYWACbOZJcm17aG616HL7DVWlFD2PXCF2Koalreopr4arYQ-meRjY7qnkKNlcEjLExAIa/s1600/Jim+the+magical+bird+sings+to+Jesus+on+the+cross+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36D2wiHFZdwkyPMBKFukrx5DTpa4opDBtEbEvyGAja57h0odZZgepVuo9tuQxc35YNEhFYyTvYWACbOZJcm17aG616HL7DVWlFD2PXCF2Koalreopr4arYQ-meRjY7qnkKNlcEjLExAIa/s640/Jim+the+magical+bird+sings+to+Jesus+on+the+cross+001.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /></a></div>....so I said I don't do drawings - and I don't. This is by my son. As you can, see it's Jim the magical bird singing to Jesus on the cross.<br />
Then we have this.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HvRKmG2jZcHwzuurXCWnZJ83CsXgUsXt19HvdvJs-xb6HVCqHt6fJFdDnAo3PXideIkBJDA-CcW-Iqo8gqAFM-FShrIdW6CNcgkeNFKepBi1acTJCj1sqd1dmYilfUSD2DIPWsZaeCg0/s1600/Bunny+%2526+Balloon+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HvRKmG2jZcHwzuurXCWnZJ83CsXgUsXt19HvdvJs-xb6HVCqHt6fJFdDnAo3PXideIkBJDA-CcW-Iqo8gqAFM-FShrIdW6CNcgkeNFKepBi1acTJCj1sqd1dmYilfUSD2DIPWsZaeCg0/s320/Bunny+%2526+Balloon+001.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This one is by my son's strange Uncle Chris. As you can see it's called "Bunny & Balloon with his mate, Death."<br />
<br />
My son (his name is Alex) has been fascinated by Jesus, or more specifically, crucifixion since he was about 3 and watched an animated video of New Testament stories called "The Miracle Maker". Every Easter the video comes out and he demands to see various other versions of the crucifixion story. Most recently the "Last Temptation..." (strange film - if it were by anyone but Scorsese, I'd say it was crap) and "The Passion of...". <br />
<br />
I found this picture he'd done with Jim the magical bird singing to Jesus on the cross next to his Uncle Chris's picture of 'Bunny and balloon and his mate Death'. <br />
I was struck by the similarities and differences between the two images, or rather between the stories they tell.<br />
Bunny lives life succumbing to the temptation of balloon-based fun. Hedonistically playing as the sun shines. The pleasure seeking Bunny.<br />
Jesus sacrificed balloon fun and instead gave his life to duty to God. He made the ultimate sacrifice of giving his own life for the sake of humanity.<br />
<br />
But actually did he? Jesus was the son of God - he knew he would rise again. He can't be killed.<br />
<br />
Bunny has his mate death hanging round just waiting for the appointed moment when he gets the chance to grimly reap. But Bunny has made Death his friend and ally. <br />
<br />
That's why he's such a happy bunny - unlike Jesus. <br />
<br />
Look at his face in the picture above.<br />
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Even with a magical bird singing to him he can't muster a smile or a nod of appreciation. You'll have to take my word for this as it is a drawing of a fixed point in time. He may have been just about to nod in appreciation. I'll grant that. But still he looks a right miserable git.<br />
<br />
Bunny is contented. He knows he's going to die. It is the way of all things. Death is his friend keeping everything in perspective, meaning Bunny appreciates every living moment. <br />
<br />
We can learn a lot from Bunny.Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-4445370077361672572011-06-10T13:31:00.000-07:002011-06-10T14:52:22.809-07:00First Proper Blog<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thought I’d begin my blogging career with a controversial, hard-hitting, polemical piece. Start with a bang! So here it is - a mind-changing, wave-making thing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bow down to the Spud!</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the weekend a set of 100 postcards of penguin book covers came into my possession. Different series’ such as fiction, crime fiction, periodicals and handbooks are included in the set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The handbook series include such useful titles as: “Scootering”; “Keeping Poultry and Rabbits on Scraps”; and “The Art of Marriage”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are intended as guides to carry around and refer to when needed. So if you have a scooter you could keep this in your pocket or haversack and refer to it in times of need. If you have poultry and rabbits and were wondering what to feed them you could whip out your penguin handbook and get some guidance. Similarly if you’re in a marriage and your husband or wife is acting a bit surly, look it up in the” Art of Marriage” with advice on “all aspects of marriage”, which is appropriately written by Mary Macaulay a “well known doctor and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>magistrate” - all the skills needed if things go pear shaped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d carry this about your person throughout your married life safe in the knowledge that no matter what aspect of your marriage needs attention this book will have the answer. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6jMCpKfCunpNlavr2pUfkcDUMZYJ2HAu4oYmPgFlUCq9PoNKbFemY2lQa3Nd7VcFBp_IdXMl8326cu6_Md_PZO_TsyUHzdNyE6t8tWyhZB5XJxjYEGp9pavZVnZSGK6LIIRFmdAe-WBu/s1600/Handy+Handbooks+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6jMCpKfCunpNlavr2pUfkcDUMZYJ2HAu4oYmPgFlUCq9PoNKbFemY2lQa3Nd7VcFBp_IdXMl8326cu6_Md_PZO_TsyUHzdNyE6t8tWyhZB5XJxjYEGp9pavZVnZSGK6LIIRFmdAe-WBu/s200/Handy+Handbooks+001.jpg" t8="true" width="128" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other titles include: “There must be a Pony!”; “The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism, Capitalism, Sovietism, and Fascism”; “Thinking to Some Purpose” and “Common Sense about Smoking”. In the fiction range there’s</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><ul><li><span style="font-family: Calibri;">”The Case of The Half Wakened Woman” and </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Still she wished for Company”. </span></li>
</ul></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">These all intrigue me. </span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpnwu_9p28YP1LkrVJ3on-DapyYWhbNbY8-mW0rs6RkOQm8y3Xe0po4s-IpdH_AtW1OBRTl2NX9TjL3Fo_Wx_ylnjMqlfji7MW9It6HCypZRQDpFjqRSPBxG355c6MeslxSZ-HKvn0IMU/s1600/Useful+titles+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpnwu_9p28YP1LkrVJ3on-DapyYWhbNbY8-mW0rs6RkOQm8y3Xe0po4s-IpdH_AtW1OBRTl2NX9TjL3Fo_Wx_ylnjMqlfji7MW9It6HCypZRQDpFjqRSPBxG355c6MeslxSZ-HKvn0IMU/s320/Useful+titles+001.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It leads me to ask a number of questions:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><ul><li><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why must there be a Pony?</span></div></li>
<li><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there a stupid woman’s guide to Socialism, Capitalism etc.? If not is this discriminatory? What about intelligent men? Don’t we need a guide to Sovietism and Fascism? How is it likely to differ from the intelligent woman’s guide? </span></div></li>
<li><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are there too many people wandering about having purposeless thoughts? Apart from me that is. </span></div></li>
<li><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Was the half wakened woman permanently half wakened? Or only at certain times - like when she was waking up? </span></div></li>
<li><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Was 'She' unreasonable in still wishing for company? Did she already have 25 people round to her bedsit and it was getting a bit cramped, and so it made sense to really just call it a day in terms of inviting people round? </span></div></li>
<li><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know the answer to these questions. But that’s not unusual there are lots of questions I don’t know the answers to. It’s normal.</span></div></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All this intrigued me, but what intrigued me the most was periodical called New Biology. On the cover is a list of articles, and top of the list is the startling title: “The Potato: Master or Servant?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Now you see what I mean by hard hitting!) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqFb_B6LX3MpRA6bGRS00nfagIMgLXe5uEiLAT2-CMbTCoF9suuNs0CG-B2NQO7MRdyND5JluMI_YlVufobLO2AoQJDXe8QgQ2laxmLKMBzmIFhAt4UuxNTuH-Q9iaObFEO30SBNy0D9_/s1600/Biology+-+periodical+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqFb_B6LX3MpRA6bGRS00nfagIMgLXe5uEiLAT2-CMbTCoF9suuNs0CG-B2NQO7MRdyND5JluMI_YlVufobLO2AoQJDXe8QgQ2laxmLKMBzmIFhAt4UuxNTuH-Q9iaObFEO30SBNy0D9_/s640/Biology+-+periodical+002.jpg" t8="true" width="416" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What could this mean? Initially I thought to myself, “I cannot conceive of any situation in which the Potato (whether it be in general, as a species, or any individual potato, no matter how ambitious or driven) could be, in their relations to me (a human), a Master.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is radical stuff, I thought. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can see, at a push, how a potato might be my servant. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It serves me by acting as a pile of creamy mash or a plate of chips! I get that. But Potato as Master? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What kind of society would it be where the potatoes ruled? What style of government would we experience? There isn’t really anything to go on, is there? Nothing we can refer to and say, “Well, when they came to power in post Soviet Estonia they were fairly dictatorial, and what they did to the Beetroots was unfair, but we never went short of Dauphinoise!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There isn’t any evidence, other than we do know that they are heavily surveillance oriented. [There is a bad pun there but I’m not going to say it out loud!] <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would the political elites look like? I imagine most working class spuds would take up jobs in the media, giving their account of political activities. Yes they would because they would be Political Common-Taters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I finish my first proper blog with a terrible joke after having only just said that I wouldn’t utter the heavy surveillance oriented potato regime pun. No discipline. I will leave you with that. The first person to talk about the potato monarchy (yes, think of the names of potatoes) wins......nothing but utter contempt! And since I just talked about it, I will self-contemptuously stop. </span></div>Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7875297602066393750.post-70085559312641076812011-04-10T11:35:00.000-07:002011-04-10T11:35:17.907-07:00First BlogI have nothing to write at the moment. Just testing this out. See you later.Timbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17683462272299405251noreply@blogger.com4