09.22.05
Civil Liberties, yeah right.
Check this out. As the guy points out, he is actually lucky.
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09.21.05
Media missed stories
Thanks to Paddy for this link listing big stories of the year that the meeja missed or under-reported. The one about Iraqi farmers is particularly good.
It reminds me of when a woman I half-know called Kim Bartley happened to be in Venezuela in April 2002 filming in the Presidential palace when it was reported via CNN and then throughout the world that Chavez had resigned and a new ‘democratic’ government was in place. Scott whathisname, White House spokesperson issued a statement saying this was great. Except Kim had it on film that there had actually been a coup. I think she managed to get a hold of Tom McEnaney, of condom fame, who was working with the Sunday Times at the time and they managed to get the actual facts out. I mean, it was on Channel 4 news that Chavez had resigned and in fact he was being imprisoned and refusing to sign a resignation. You can read more about it here.
What if she wasn’t there? Its mad. There is footage of Powell saying that Chavez didn’t know too much about democracy. His election was a tad more transparent than Bush’s. Anyway, have a look at the site and film if you can. Its fascinating.
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09.20.05
Myers
A popular technique in columns is to list arguments made by opponents and then dismantle them in a crushing withering fashion. But the opponents did not make those arguments at all. They made other one less easily deconstructed.
Anyway, here’s Myers today.
How disappointing for our many American-hating fellow-Europeans to see that people in New Orleans are now returning to most areas of the city. Well we are not American hating just Republican hating.
But even as the sound of sniggering still echoed over Europe’s capitals, the US army corps of engineers were quietly plugging the supposedly unpluggable breaches in the levees, and simultaneously despatching a sullen Mississippi back to its riverbed, Who said they were unpluggable? They just said they had been neglected because federal funds to keep them in good repair were refused. In fact the army were universally praised because they were the ones who kept saying they wouldn’t stick a hurricane.
Now, I like and respect John O’Shea of Goal, but he was wholly wrong to have said we should not send anything to help disaster relief in the US. Even a single Army engineer with a bucket would have been a symbol of the brotherhood of freedom, of blood and of history which binds us, and an acknowledgement of the unpayable debt that we owe to the US. Look all John O’Shea said was that America is the richest country in the world. They don’t need our money. Africa needs our money. Why should we help them. TOTALLY logical. And they have their own army. What do they need ours for?
British forces, without the US, could never have liberated occupied Europe in 1944, or any other year. Worse, it is just remotely possible that the USSR, aided by that supreme bungler, Adolf Hitler himself, might have defeated the Nazis without the assistance of the US – a glorious prospect indeed, with Stalin’s tanks within viewing distance of the white cliffs of Dover. So democratic victory 60 years ago was a largely American achievement, and without ever becoming slaves either to America or to history, we should never forget that.
I am SICK of this argument. America got into the war AFTER they had war declared on them by that little incident called Pearl Harbour. With the exception of FDR, most Americans didn’t give a shit what happened in Europe as long as they were ok. AND then they dithered for years while 20 million Russians were killed on the Eastern Front. The Russians did all the suffering while Ike bullshitted around. Then they weren’t too worried at all about democracy and despite Churchill warning them that Stalin was coming for Eastern Europe, the Americans were quite happy to divide up Europe between themselves and Russia, giving up entire countries like Poland.
So yes, they were essential to victory but let’s have some vital qualifications in there. But I suppose that would ruin the column. I guess I should sympathise. Or take notes.
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Violence on Telly
A letter in today’s IT: “Violent death has become an accepted and apparently essential part of our television entertainment diet.
Research has shown that the average child in the US or Britain will see more than 7,000 violent deaths on television before starting second-level education at 12 years of age……
The effects of this exposure to violence on television have been identified by Prof Joanne Cantor to a US Senate Committee as: (1) creating in viewers a greater tolerance of violent acts; (2) fostering insecurity and reinforcing a belief that one lives in a hostile environment; and (3) predisposing some viewers to act violently….”
I don’t agree with this. When we were children the holy grail of television watching was Hawaii 50. Occasionally we were allowed stay up until the first ads (which of course was always really annoying because then you just wanted to see more). My mother once remarked that my eldest brother could sit quite calmly through the various murders and assaults. Somehow you didn’t take it seriously. But when Judge got kidnapped by the witch on Wanderly Wagon he ran around the back yard screaming. Perhaps this was related to his fear of disappearing dogs. But anyway, he was capable of suspending disbelief with regard to murders in Hawaii 50, which is the salient point.
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09.19.05
Silence of the Dogs
My dog column has prompted some questions and under examination a lamb-like incident has emerged from my childhood.
You see when we were kids we actually had two Jack Russells. One was Buttons. A really friendly stupid dog. Mongrel of course. Then we came across her one day in actual copulation with next door’s Jack Russell (purebred). The result arrived and we called him Yosser. (I think Boys from the Blackstuff was on telly at the time.) They were great. They’d run down the hallway in the morning skidding on the tiles and jump up on our beds. Anyway, we came home from school one day and there they were – gone. Daddy said he’d given them away because they had been driving my mother crazy. Apparently the last straw was when they ate some flans she had prepared for visitors. I knew not to ask any more questions because it was highly unlikely that they had been “given away”.
At this stage of my adulthood I felt I was entitled to question my father tonight.
He admitted that he did poison them, on my mother’s instructions. I enquired hopefully if they had a peaceful death. Unfortunately not. He said it was terrible and he hated doing it because they were nice dogs.
Then I was reminded of the day that he rounded up a few cats at home. On a farm they tend to get out of control and there has to be an occasional massacre. He chloroformed them (soak a rag in chloroform and put it in a plastic bag and put the cat in after it). My sister was watching him go back and forth around the yard collecting the required materials of death. All went well and they passed out and he began digging their graves. But they started to wake up. So he had to get an axe and decapitate them. Then he had to come in and get his heart tablets. It’s pretty stressful killing innocent pets.
Is it any wonder I have issues? Is it any wonder he has a heart condition?
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09.18.05
Pride and Prejudice
I have square eyes from watching the UKTV Gold Pride and Prejudice fest today. They are showing the entire BBC series with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. The only question is why on earth would anyone even attempt to remake this, especially in film version? Colin is the last word in Darcy and Jennifer Ehle gives Lizzie maturity and depth. All the other characters like the Bingleys and Lady Catherine are just perfectly cast. And what is the film version offering us? Kiera Knightly is a lightweight silly girl and Matthew McFayden is not even remotely handsome. All P&P fans of my acquaintance are boycotting the film and are outraged at its very existence. An abomination, really.
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Lady Columnists
Many many thanks to Leon for this hilarious link. Have been LOL for the last 10 minutes reading it. I pray I am not on the same road as the lovely Roisin.
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ST on Dogs
Dogged, hounded and harassed: I want your mutt banned
When I’m minister, I’ll ban dogs. I’d ban their irresponsible owners, but there are probably some constitutional issues there, so the dogs will have to take the rap.
All right, those mutts with a purpose other than the validation of their owners’ egos would be allowed stay. Guide dogs, sheep dogs and the occasional faithful retainer of the elderly would be granted a dispensation.
Owning a dog used to be a strictly utilitarian matter, except for the extremely wealthy. Unfortunately, economic prosperity didn’t just bring global travel and branded wine to the masses, it brought the ubiquitous terrier.
Just think about the word terrier. A mongrel canine bred to kill rats and to keep foxes trapped in their lairs until the hounds arrive for the kill.
They owe their existence to their ferocity, redundant energy, and to what the Jack Russell Terrier club of America fondly calls their ceaseless aggressiveness. Domesticity has robbed them of their traditional prey, and so the delicate calves of pedestrians or cyclists have become their quarry.
The lowly position in society of those who use their feet for transport explains why the extermination of these four- legged terrorists is not on the political agenda. Anyone in a position of power has a very large car, which they may not even drive themselves.
So the disenfranchised community of mothers with buggies are left to deal with the problem. As for cyclists, well, the Establishment assumes that in order to ride a bike in this country you must be a green vegetarian or bonkers, and therefore you don’t count.
Oh all right, a recent incident has indeed tipped me over the edge. I was becoming accustomed to running the gauntlet of unsupervised dogs on my road. I’d have loaded the two into the double-buggy and we’d be going along, lost in thought and admiring the sky. From the doorsteps, some misbegotten mutts might cast a malevolent but lazy eye toward us.
But there was one who made a practice of sneaking up behind me and launching a frenzied bark attack. He must have been satisfied with the result. I’d jump several feet, arms in the air, shrieking with fright. I’d turn on him, hurling abuse, and he’d usually retreat, throwing in a few last yips just to prove to himself that he was great.
I began to keep stones in my pockets and edgily checked my rear as we approached his domain. An escalating game of chicken began.
I saw him coming last week and assumed what could only be described as an aggressive stance. Poised with my stones, eyes narrowed, I called out a warning. Bring it on, he said. And went for me. The bastard. Like tribal warriors, we relied chiefly on noise. He barked, I screeched. But then he went for the canine equivalent of the jugular – my unprotected ankles.
The babies joined in the racket and I was forced to act as any mother would in such a dangerous situation. I threw the infants between me and the dog. Reversing around the buggy at high speed with the miniature monster in hot pursuit, I screamed for the owner to emerge and save me. Eventually she appeared and after some considerable effort banished the brute into its garden.
Did she apologise on behalf of the dog? Enquire after my health? Comfort the crying babies? No. She casually advised that simply ignoring the dog would ensure my safety. Isn’t it great when people point out that your troubles are entirely self-inflicted? I went home and burst into tears.
While reporting the offending animal might appear to be the answer, I don’t want to be tarnished with the informer stigma. Besides, when feeling energetic, the dozen other mongrels on the road take their turn to join in the chorus of aggression that greets our daily excursion. I have encouraged my husband to swerve at speed as he motors by, but sadly assassination is not in his nature.
So a general ban on this public menace is the only realistic solution. The non-dog-owning public would soon appreciate a world free of the wretched curs and their faeces. Vested interests like postmen, political canvassers and delivery men would present favourable reports to Oireachtas committee hearings.
Certainly, those people who get labradors instead of having children would complain. But I have little sympathy for them. The more affectionate breeds are intensely social and leaving them unaccompanied all day, while their yuppie owners are out working, is simply cruel. Similarly, the muttonheads who specialise in breeding particularly vicious strains, such as pit bulls, deserve lobotomies.
The non-working dog is, regardless of breed, of equal genetic relation to the primitive wolf. Irrespective of training and socialisation, the dog will at an appropriate but unpredictable opportunity revert to its natural instinct and lash out at an unsuspecting human or sheep.
It takes a particular kind of fool to breed a wolf, but this is happening in Ireland. Faced with such increasing levels of irresponsibility, intervention of the legal kind is a necessity.
If the human requirement for pets must be sated I submit that the cat is the desirable option. Those who object are clearly misogynists. Cats possess female characteristics of intuition and non-verbal communication, bestowing upon them an air of superiority which unnerves the insecure.
The lesser person comforts themselves with the lesser intellect of the dog. It is time for this tyranny to end. Miaow.
ends
*Update*: Two changes from the original copy to comment on. This line didn’t make the grade but here it is for your amusement. After the bit about important people in cars I had: “On occasion they might vaguely hear a hysterical yap from the left front wheel. But it?s not loud enough to drown out the voice in their head assuring them that they are far too important to concern themselves with the source of the irritant.”
and an Eats shoots and leaves alert. My version referred to bicyclists as “Green, vegetarian or bonkers” (i.e. member of the Green party) but it appeared as green vegetarian or bonkers.
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09.15.05
A giddy day with some grounding
I was very giddy and excitable and my heart was racing all day. I had an appointment with the osteopath, and you know what? They are making progress. My poor pelvis is getting more stable all the time and they’ve started on the shoulders. My mother did reveal that there was a fall and she actually did take me for an x-ray when I was about 8. She was afraid my shoulder was fractured. It wasn’t. But the ribs (which at the back are in your shoulder) are out, so it looks like they (the osteo-crowd) weren’t being overdramatic after all. And they seem to care about me which is nice. Although for ?60 a go (?80 last week when it was two of them), I suppose they should care about me.
Moral of the story: if a child falls badly but nothing is broken; no harm taking them to an osteopath to repair the damage early. The practice I go to specialises in babies and curing their birth injuries. Some of the poor babies come as they’ve been crying and crying and they work on their shoulders and their heads. The lady said the caesarian babies are the worst because everyone assumes that a caesarian is easy becauase they don’t have to come down the birth canal. But actually, the doctors really have to tug and pull to get them out and often dislocate little things without realising. Can you imagine?
Such is my progress that I returned for the first time in a year to my wonderful wonderful yoga class and I want to urge everyone in the Dublin area (well, if you are nice and don’t wreck the lovely atmosphere in our class) to go to the Buddhists in Leeson St for yoga. There is a lot of yoga going on at the moment but its all this Ashtanga stuff which is the kind that Madonna does. It’s very competitive and assertive. Our’s is Iyengar yoga which is precise and soft.
We lay on the floor for 15 minutes at the start and the teacher says “Where is your breath?” And where is your breath? Usually it’s just below my throat. By the end of the class its way down in my body and I am a different person. We allow our heads to feel heavy and rest on the floor. And imagine our hair falling off and into the floor. And when you are doing a bend you let gravity push you down but the earth support you. Its really cool. You can do everything deeper than you think you can. And then we thank the space, and thank each other and give thanks for something in our lives. Which most people never do. Most people think of all the bad things in their lives so thanking is good.
Once, two astanga girls came to the class and there is a pose called mountain pose. That just means standing straight. Our teacher says, “do not stand like a soldier. Keep your chest soft on the inside”. The girls were standing to attention and even tho they were just standing you could feel the determination and assertiveness coming from them. They never came back. We were glad. They are probably very efficient and successful girls but they were not for us. They probably thought we were lame but we were quite happy.
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Condoms
Here’s a wonderful article by friend Tom McEnaney in today’s Indo about his work giving away condoms in TCD in the late eighties. It’s hard to believe it was still illegal to sell condoms back then. If link doesn’t work let me know I’ll send you the article or reprint in full.
One addendum. In 1992, Tom and I decided to re-introduce the condom blowing competition during Trinity Week. But the ‘skill’ of smurfing as it is called was lost by then. We went to the Well Woman Centre and got hundreds of out of date condoms and Tom conducted a tutorial for interested parties in my rooms. You stretch out the rim of the condom and pull it over your head till its just under your nose. Then you inflate it through your nose. The condom rises like a big smurf hat over your head. Its amazing to see cos you can’t believe they go that big. Whoever bursts it first wins! Ah, the student life. The prize was a double ticket to the Trinity Ball which was ?50 in those days which was pretty good.
So my friend Fiona and I co-hosted the competition in a packed Buttery Bar. It was great fun because a lot of people hadn’t seen it before and we interviewed the contestants beforehand like on a TV gameshow. It was all guys of course. The only irony was that while Tom did enter, another guy one.
Afterwards we still had loads and loads of condoms left over and we had them piled up in the bathroom cabinet. Which was quite funny when the ultra conservative mother of one of my friends stayed over and they all piled out when she went looking for toothpaste.
My glorious student days. My parents were so proud.
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