LISTENING

Can You hear me 

O merciless merciful God? 

Bend Your world, if You do,

and reverse time 

that my mother may be here with me 

and we be

as we were.

Taken from here,
felt everywhere

Guess who is hiding behind Greece's monetary failure?

Guess. Because that's what it is - only a guess.
It is, however, informed by decades of reflexion on the vicissitudes of history.

For their - and consequently our - economic troubles, the Greeks have no one to blame but themselves.
There is no need to go into detail at this point.
What matters is that they appear to be unusually keen on leaving the Euro-zone and the EU altogether, at least judging by assorted media reports and articles.

Or are they?
True to their nature, Greeks are not the best of team players.
They are also (and quite understandably, up to a point) cynical about governments in general, and their own goverment in particular.

This is always a dangerous situation, because despondency can lead to apathy, and apathy naturally makes place for more active players to take over.

Which is why Greece is the perfect tinder box for power-hungry forces, both inside and outside the country. All they have to do is to encourage and fuel the most destructive of attitudes, hoping the situation will eventually spiral into a desperate need for a "saviour".

Can Greece survive "alone", i.e. outside the European Union?
It is debatable. What does "survive" mean?

Would it fare better, at the very least?
Again, it is doubtful.

A more likely scenario is that it would partner with some other country who could offer - if not necessarily deliver - the security and "respect" that Greece apparently feels it lacks in the EU.

Now ask yourself: who on Earth could have an interest in a would-be renegade member of the European Union, a country in the deep south of Europe, with ports on the Mediterranean, and conveniently close to that other tinder box, which is also the "gateway" to the Middle East, that is Turkey?

And who would this same would-be renegade member of the EU be likely to accept, perhaps even invite (not publicly, of course), as its "saviour", for historical and religion-based cultural reasons?

Could it be the same power that remains hidden behind the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, to name just one major global mess?

Think about it.
Someone has to.

Beauty of This World

By Zumthie

The Guardian... of WHAT, exactly?

There is an opinion piece in today's Guardian, concerning the recent aquittal of Amanda Knox in the Meredith Kercher murder case. 

The article was open for comments, as such articles usually are, and expecting an array of interesting - certainly not crass or too ignorant - comments, I started reading the few comments that were already there, and contributed mine. Then, I was interrupted, and I left the web page open. 

When I returned, a few hours later, I remembered the article and wanted to continue reading.

Forgetting that I already had a tab with that web page open, I opened a new one. 

What a surprise! 

All the comments, but one (consisting of two words), had been removed. 

I copied the comments from the old, un-refreshed page, and I would gladly show them to you; but I am not sure the authors of the comments would agree, and I have no way of contacting them. 

So, I'll only show you mine (in direct reply to the article): 

Are you kidding me?
Why would she want to escape from the "clutches" of the media who did play a role in building up her (unpleasant) public persona but have now, by the same token, provided her with a free (and abundant!) meal ticket?

She is set for life, precisely because of the persona that the media - with abundant help from herself - built.

I don't know if she was actively, or at all, implicated in Meredith's murder.
But if she lacked the fortitude to withstand alleged pressure from the police and pointed her finger at an innocent man, accusing him of murder, I doubt she would be motivated enough to refuse the multi-million offers coming to her now.
And the price for those, of course, is publicity.

I am sure many people are much worse off.
Some of them are even dead.

 You may agree or disagree - even passionately so - with the contents, but really... If this is considered censorship-worthy - and the other comments removed were more or less in the same tone - then I have to ask myself: whom or what, exactly, is the Guardian guarding?

Not freedom of opinion, that's certain.

The Auschwitz swimming pool

If you are expecting either a piece of "holocaust denial" or a rant against "holocaust deniers" - I should invite you straight away to look elsewhere.

I should also state quite clearly that I don't know what exactly happened or did not happen in Auschwitz. I wasn't around. And having studied history (among other things), I know how treacherous historiography is, almost inevitably. The truth of history - any history - is, as the saying goes, seldom simple and never pure.

A friend of a friend dragged me into a discussion about WW II the other day;  specifically, a discussion of what is usually called (thanks to Spielberg) "the Holocaust".

The discussion went nowhere very fast, because he was insisting I look at some of his sources - which turned out to be internet postings. Forum postings, with a link or two to websites that appear to be too sure of their own truth for my taste.

Featuring prominently was a series of discussions about what appears to be a swimming pool located in Oswiecim, better known by its German name, Auschwitz.

Apparently the existence of this swimming pool had been denied in the past; or, more accurately, it was called a "cistern", a water tank, for the Auschwitz fire brigade.

Taken from here.

It certainly has an unusual shape for such a purpose; to me, it appears to be a perfectly fine and elegant Art Deco-era swimming pool, especially considering the place and circumstances.
And I told him so.

Then I expected to be told the gist of the story that the picture seemed to promise. Yes, it was a swimming pool - a nice swimming pool. 
At Auschwitz, yes. ... And...?

And that was that.
Apparently the fact that there was a swimming pool at Auschwitz was highly significant.

But, I objected, it is well known that the German authorities took reasonably good care of their Lager-Kommandanten and their families as well as the personnel whenever possible. They had all sorts of amenities; why not a swimming pool?

In my obtuseness apparently I had misunderstood the whole point of the "discussion". The point being that if there was a swimming pool at Auschwitz it must have been used by the prisoners; which in its turn signifies that Auschwitz was not a sinister extermination camp but rather a summer camp... well, of sorts.

How did you come to the conclusion that it was used by the prisoners?, I asked.  
Apparently the fact that the swimming pool's existence had been "covered up" by the local museum guides and book guides about Auschwitz, either by flat denial of its existence or by presenting it as a water tank for other purposes is incriminatory enough to allow such a leap of logic.

As I said before, I do not know what happened or did not happen at Auschwitz, or wherever I was not present.
But to me, the denial of the existence of said swimming pool at Auschwitz signals atrociously bad judgment and extremely poor scholarship on the part of whoever trained the guides (and of the guides themselves) and/or wrote the guidebooks that do not mention the swimming pool or that present it as something else. It does not follow from this stupidity that the pool was used by the prisoners. It may have been, for all I know; but if it was, that certainly does not follow from the "evidence" presented.


The reason I chose to pen this little post today is that this issue - or rather "issue" - appears to be less of a historical mystery/conspiracy/cover-up/whatever than a rather typical example of the ignorance that the internet has revealed and is now actively spreading itself. 
By ignorance I mean just that: lack of proper education, of proper schooling, and - much more worryingly - of proper critical thinking skills (which are, after all, one of the goals of proper education). 

This (non)issue could be the symbol of the new world that has emerged since the beginning of the internet era: an era of easily accessible information, where mere ease and speed of information is mistaken for quality of information. 
Even worse, books - proper books, historical and other, and the  painstakingly researched information they offer - appear to be almost devalued among a considerable number of netizens, if we are to judge from numerous forum postings and other means of public expression.
 
Does truth not matter? Since when?
Just because many people seem to prefer indulging in assorted conspiracy theories - because they are, to put it bluntly, unhappy with the real world of their own daily life but lack the intellectual wherewithal to change it - it does not follow that anything and everything can be relativised into an "alternative" story - and still hold water.

To read a more uplifting story, about the glory of the human mind (and good education!), see this delightful text (p. 29 of the PDF; or through a link found here).
 
The best part of it is that the critical thinker featured in it was twelve years old.
The bad, really bad news is that it happened 200 years ago.

Romance: Jay and Mavis Leno

The title brings to mind the title of some episode from some  corny Discovery TCL series meant to act as a filler during two episodes of some "junkyard kings" show, or - much, much worse - of the Happily Ever Laughter crap-fest.


But after reading the article below, I just felt inspired to share it; and there is no way to describe these two people's dynamics succinctly, except with the word romance.
Or perhaps - love.
Yes, that's even better a fit.
Much, much better.

Happily Ever Laughter... with Jay and Mavis Leno

Believe me, you don't have to love or even appreciate Jay Leno - although I certainly do - to enjoy the article.
If nothing else, read it for the truly baffling mystery of September 5th in Jay Leno's love life.

But I guarantee you: if you love reading about true love and romance, you'll love this one. 
It puts all those fake "romantic" gestures, the cotton candy of contemporary pop culture, to shame. 
Well, it's not really in the same category with those... or even on the same planet.
Alas, it is also relatively rare - in Hollywood, or anywhere else.

Having trouble with Google cache? (Don't ask Yahoo about it.)

Lately I've been having a bizarre problem with Google (which, I am happy to say, we use only rarely these days, preferring DogPile and, occasionally, GoodSearch).

Sometimes, when I want to see the cache of a website - typically a forum thread - I get another batch of search results instead of the cache.
(I've learned to circumvent it by clicking on Translate this page, then clicking show original. Problem solved.)

At first, I thought it had something to do with Chrome, which is currently my primary browser. But the same thing happened when I used Firefox and Flock.

Apparently I am not the only one having this problem.

Here's the cache of a question on Yahoo Answers that was left unanswered.

I wanted to answer, if only by giving the link to this thread:

http://www.webmasterworld.com/google/4338049.htm

I couldn't. The question had been deleted.

Why?

Who knows.

But the same person asked another interesting question, namely "why does Yahoo delete all questions about Google?"

The "best" answer was that it doesn't.

It is a blatant lie, and a cringeworthy ridiculous one at that.

I have seen questions - perfectly innocent questions - related to Google deleted time and time again. (Conversely, there are tons of criminally stupid, ill-categorised and rude questions left to linger forever.)

But then look what it says on Yahoo Answers about what they expect - no, sorry: like - to see in their visitors.

What we like on Answers

• Sharing what you know
• Being courteous
• Being a good citizen
• Citing your sources
• Asking clear questions
• Categorizing your questions correctly

The emphasis is mine; I got the colour more or less right, but the swastika you'll have to picture it yourself...

Being a good citizen is a most commendable thing, of course. 

Unfortunately, history shows that the essence of being a good citizen is open to interpretation.

And there is no interpretation of this category visible anywhere on YA.

Even more unfortunately for YA, the question that was deleted clearly shows that it complied with all the unambiguous guidelines cited above. So, was the reason that it was deleted due to failure to comply with the one ambiguous guideline?

The obvious association - a nastier term does come to mind, but I'll let your imagination do its thing - between Google and Yahoo Answers is becoming increasingly embarrassing to watch. 
But surprising it is not. 

Who but yahoos would pledge their allegiance to Google at this point of the virtual game?

PS. The same question has been asked, verbatim, on another website.

"Bizarre" (dis)likes

Frankly, I think very few, if any, dislikes - or likes, for that matter - really are "bizarre".

What's bizarre is the reluctance of adult, presumably independently thinking, people to express their dislike of anything that has been, directly or indirectly, sanctioned by cinema, the TV, the vox populi in general, as "likeable". Sometimes they are not even aware of their own dislike until someone else expresses it. (Like an acquaintance of mine - then a young mother - who admitted, for the first time, she did not like hearing children singing, especially not in chorus, after I expressed my intense dislike of it.)

Here are a few more of my "bizarre" dislikes:

- The morning sun. (And if it's in winter, even more so.)
I usually work at night; I prefer it that way. And I don't have to wake up at any specific hour, so it's not about any association with must-do chores.
I can appreciate the dawn, but once the sun is out, that's it - I cannot bear to see it until after noon.
I dislike it so much that I've moved my bedroom from the east side of the apartment to the west side.

Which brings me to...

- After-dawn mornings.

Sun or no sun, I hate mornings, most especially from around 9 - 10:45 o'clock.

As soon as noon comes, the unpleasant, dull tension that I associate with mornings disappears as if by magic.

Funnily enough, there are studies that show that most heart attacks and similar incidents tend to happen around 9 o'clock in the morning. 


- Live versions of the songs I like.
I have a really good ear and a good auditive memory. When I like what I hear, I want to hear it exactly - and I mean 100% exactly - like I remember it. Every beat, every note, every pause. Not a sigh should be different.
Call me crazy.

 

And my "bizarre" likes:

-Heavy, dark grey, stormy clouds, with or without thunder.

- Walking in the rain, especially in spring or (oh joy!) summer.

Why this is considered "bizarre" by so many people, I'll never know. There are few ordinary pleasures as intense as being kissed all over the face and bare skin (weather permitting) by warm drops of water. I say "kissed" because that's how it feels to me, especially when the droplets are very tiny. It's like hundreds of tiny, warm kisses tickling your face, your lips, your eyelids. It's so relaxing! 

People really should start leaving their umbrellas at home more often. I suspect getting wet - and surviving it - would each them things that would improve their lives in general.

- Strong wind (unless it's really freezing cold). 

Same as above, only it feels like caressing, not kissing.  

"But it messes with your hair!" says an aunt of mine. 

So what? That's part of the pleasure! It's such fun feeling your hair flying all around, as if mussed by a pair of gentle, playful hands.

- Walking barefoot.

Need I explain it? 

Well, I won't.
 

I do have a like that even I consider a little - just a little - bizarre... but it'll have to wait until some other occasion.

Meanwhile, do let us know what are some of your "bizarre" likes and dislikes.

That strange feeling...

We borrowed the title directly from our sister blog, because it sounds exactly like what we've been hearing for the past few days: people having "strange feelings" of the undefinable kind. Something is not quite right.
 
There's nothing strange about such feelings: the Sun appears to be shooting at us with its heavy artillery, according to SpaceWeather. 
But, who knows, for all we know there could be other influences involved.

Everyone is familiar with such odd, something-is-off-kilter feelings. Some like to turn to astrology for an explanation, others (including us) to astronomy, and still others (also including us) to a variety of additional approaches. Why not?
 
For those who like a catholic (i.e. all-inclusive) approach, there is a website against which to check your daily moods:

MOOD ALERT

Not everything about it is up-to-date at all times, but it's accurate - and fun - enough.
 
Let us know how it works for you.

What the internet is HIDING from you

The internet is, without a doubt, one of the most far-reaching inventions in human history. Its potential for education and swift communication - and organisation - is immense. In fact, it has already become the number one tool of education for many around the world. (The fact that Wikipedia, followed by its many minor clones, seems to be the number one source of said "education" is less than commendable, but more on that on some other occasion.)

The goal of the internet was to expand an individual's world far beyond local boundaries. 
And it did... for a long time.

And then came December 4th, 2009.

If you don't know what happened on that date, chances are that you also still believe that the internet is showing you anything you want it to show.

It is not.

Thanks (mostly) to Google - which now could justly be called infamous - your world is narrowing, not expanding. And the worst part of it is precisely that you may not be aware of it.

Read this book.

Or at least read this interview. You'll thank us for it.

What the internet is hiding from you

And by the way, there are ways around Google. Our favourite search machine is DogPile, a meta-search machine that gathers results from other search machines, showing you what is to be found where.

So, if you want to make a dent, however small, into Google's monopoly and its claims over your life and your thought, choose results from other search machines, whenever possible. That's what we do.

How to disable autorun in Win XP

Can't disable that uber-annoying autorun that starts every time you run a program? You'll have to edit the Group Policy (never knew you had one, huh?).
 
Click START and then RUN. Type GPedit.msc and press ENTER.

... ... ...
 
Nothing happened, right?
Of course not. The Wicked Witch of Microsoft made sure it could not.
There's nothing wrong with your computer, nor are the necessary files (GPedit.msc & Co.) corrupt or anything like that. It's just that certain Windows editions do not include them (XP Home being one of them).
 
So, for the privilege to run your own computer the way you want it, you have to be either nostradamically endowed to foresee whether the Windows edition you're buying includes the files (that nobody EVER told you about) necessary to disable the autorun feature - or you simply go here and download them.
 
After you've done that, unzip them and click the InstallGPEdit.bat.
This will install the files in the proper directory (System32).
 
After you've done that, open the System32 folder (you'll find it in the Windows folder) and create a new folder and name it GroupPolicy.
 
Open this (still empty) folder and create another folder within it; name it ADM.
 
Find the following files and copy them into the ADM folder that you just created:

system.adm
inetres.adm
conf.adm
 
Now click START again, select RUN and run these commands (one by one, obviously):

regsvr32 gpedit.dll
regsvr32 fde.dll
regsvr32 gptext.dll
regsvr32 appmgr.dll
regsvr32 fdeploy.dll 


This will register the files you just copied into your OS.
A window should pop up informing you that "registration succeeded" or something to that effect.
 
Finally, click START and then RUN. Type GPedit.msc and press ENTER.
Now it should work like a charm.

Do not thank me. Thank these guys.  
I did.
 
Now you can finally edit your Group Policy. To do that, you will have to hack the registry. But before we go on...

IMPORTANT:

Please, make sure you have a a backup copy of your registry and a system restore point.

I do not anticipate you will need it IF you repeat the following steps exactly as they are presented, but just in case - please, do not blame us if anything goes awry. You have been warned.

As long as that is clear, we can continue. 
Click START, then RUN, type regedit and press ENTER.

Now click HKEY_CURRENT USER.
Click Software.
Click Microsoft.
Click Windows.
Click Current Version.
Click Policies.
Click Explorer.
 
Now that you've arrived in the Explorer folder, look at the right pane.
Highlight NoDriveTypeAutorun and select MODIFY in the drop-down menu.
The value shown should be hexadecimal; if it is not, select hexadecimal.
 
Type 95 and click OK.

This will disable autorun on removable/USB drive, but still allow it on CD-ROMs. To disable the autorun function on both types of drive, do not write 95 - type b5 instead.
 
Reboot your computer for the registry changes to take effect.
 
Again, do not thank me. Thank this guy... sorry, gal. :)
 
And good luck being the captain of the ship that you bought and is rightfully yours.

Monsieur Proust's opal

There probably isn't a single soul in the world who has not lost something, perhaps inexplicably, and then found it again, perhaps equally inexplicably.
To find the object, many people resort to St. Anthony of Padua, or to St. Francis of Assisi, or to some other method.
You can read more about it here, in our sister blog. This posting is no speculation on the mysterious ways of wayward objects. It is simply a re-posting of a beautiful little event, told by Celeste Albaret, Marcel Proust's housekeeper, at the very end of her unforgettably beautiful book.

One night when I was with M. Proust at boulevard Haussman he was showing me some things he'd asked me to fetch from the chest, including some pretty pendant earrings made of coral which used to belong to his mother.

"I think they would suit my niece Suzy," he said. "Put them away, Celeste."
Then, when I came back: "Ah, here is my opal tie pin. Unfortunately I stepped on it and broke it. A pity. But the opal is all right and very pretty. Would you like it? Take it."

I had it mounted as a ring, and it never left my finger. Later, much later, I wanted to give it to Odile, but she was afraid that she might lose it and, knowing how fond I was of it, preferred I keep it. I wore it night and day. Then one day I lost it. In despair I did what my mother used to do and prayed to St. Anthony. Mother used to say he always helped her find things. But nothing happened.

 
That same day my daughter had brought in some greens which I picked over and washed, cooked and chopped up. While we were at the table - Odile, my sister Marie, and I - Odile suddenly stopped eating.
"What's the matter?" I asked. "Did you break a tooth?"
It was M. Proust's opal.
He hadn't forgotten me any more than I could forget him.
 

Translated by Barbara Bray

Gems From the Attic: a 1933 documentary

"Where shall we look for yesterday?"

Not in history books, if you ask me.

Films may be much better an option.

If you like  documentaries like the 1927 masterpiece, Berlin, the Symphony of a Metropolis, or Vertov's Man with a Movie Camera (1929), or the incomparable Joris Ivens - or any documentary about cities and life decades ago - chances are you will love this gem.

SCRAPBOOK FOR 1933 - reel 1 of 3

Enjoy.

The Right to Violence and Cynicism

On Monday, the Supreme Court of the U.S.A. has struck down a California law that banned the sale of violent video games to children.

The Californian law defined violent games as those “in which the range of options available to a player includes killing, maiming, dismembering or sexually assaulting an image of a human being” in a way that was “patently offensive,” appealed to minors’ “deviant or morbid interests” and lacked “serious literary, artistic, political or scientific value.

The Supreme Court, presided by Justice Antonin Scalia, argued that “Like the protected books, plays and movies that preceded them, video games communicate ideas — and even social messages — through many familiar literary devices (such as characters, dialogue, plot and music) and through features distinctive to the medium (such as the player’s interaction with the virtual world). That suffices to confer First Amendment protection."

He also pointed out that "depictions of violence have never been subject to government regulation".

True.
This argument is somewhat disingenuous and exasperating in its willful short-sightedness, but it is in compliance with the existing (clearly inadequate) legislation.


Furthermore, in the right hands it could be used to pose the very questions about the inadequacy of relevant legislation, therefore used for the good of society - for the good of a society that does not want every single value relativised and deconstructed into an obsolete word, a risible label. To protect the right NOT to be exposed to gratuitous violence.

But the argument of some commentators are just plain stupid - albeit criminally so. Here is a particularly irritating example.

It is Perverse, but It Is Also Pretend

The author, who conducted "a study" at Harvard, claims that the California state case was "built on assumptions — that violent games cause children psychological or neurological harm and make them more aggressive and likely to harm other people — that are not supported by evidence. "   

First of all, what evidence, and who is interpreting it?

By way of "evidence", this article presents us with a statement of a 13-year-old who said: “With video games, you know it’s fake.”  


The people interpreting this "evidence" are, like the author, clearly a priori of the opinion that the ill effects of violence are merely an assumption. (Tell that to social workers around the world!)

But the author then goes on to say: "In the end, the case serves only to highlight how little we know about this medium and its effects on our children."
 

??!

If you know so little, then why the hell are you talking about this, and backing your assumptions with Harvard studies, to boot?  


Anyway, I would say that having to have security guards regularly inspect and disarm school-children - who are, by the way, increasingly in need of psychological help and are being drugged en masse by OTC "medicines" - I would say that constitutes pretty reliable "evidence" that something is seriously amiss. Because such things were practically unheard of until the 1990s.(There were scandalous isolated cases, of course; and they were scandalous because they were isolated cases.)


Now think: which is the one factor that separates earlier incarnations of our Western culture from ours today?

The media. Television. The internet. All prodigious inventions that could have brought the light to billions - and, up to a point, they have - but were abused, in a typically human fashion, and perverted into ultra-fast catering to the basest of human impulses - the kind of impulses that spread the fastest, like - literally - the plague. 
And all, TO PERVERT PEOPLE INTO SPINELESS CONSUMERS, not only of material goods, but of ideologies.

That's the bottom line.  


Or has humankind "evolved", all by itself, as if living in a vacuum, into a degenerate race of blood-thirsty, crazy toddlers? How did this happen? Where are the studies explaining that?  


Notice the deviously isolated subject of this study: "... that violent games [my emphasis] cause children psychological or neurological harm and make them more aggressive..."  


Violence is violence. The mind does not recognise differences between virtual and non-virtual violence, or indeed, among kinds of violence. The intellect does; but the wider conglomerate of sense-based cognition that drives our experience of the world - starting by the limbic system - does not. Violence is a destructive force, pure and simple. It takes impure and willfully perverse (or hopelessly obtuse) reasoning to twist this basic reality into "anything-goes" sophistry.

You shouldn't need a PhD to figure that one out.  


EVERYTHING starts as an impulse in the mind, as an image, as a fleeting fantasy. And everyone - certainly a Harvard study-conductor - should know that image equals example. And like breeds like. Violence breeds more violence.


The ultimate argument of such brave defenders of liberty is, inevitably, the claim that restrictions open the door to arbitrary censorship.

It's as a vacuous argument, as is the rest of the arguments of the defenders of the uglier "liberties". (Yes, I am using quotation marks because lax values, if any, do not constitute freedom. In fact, they lead to slavery, to spineless acquiescence.)  


If you prohibit one thing on the basis of certain criteria, it does not follow automatically that this would foster increasingly arbitrary decisions in the future. As long as we keep using our intellect, we CAN decide what is acceptable and what not as we go, can't we?

The actual reasoning behind the least sinister (but no less harmful) arguments amounts to: "Who are we to decide what is 'good' and what 'bad', and who are we to impose either on anyone?"  


Yes, indeed. If you're talking sub specie aeternitatis, then you can easily reduce Cheops' pyramid into a molehill. (And Stalin into a misguided but ultimately not-bad Uncle Joe.)
 
But our daily lives are not fashioned in the light of eternity, and the question is: what kind of society do we want to live in?

And how about the right NOT to be exposed to violence and oversexualisation?

Who is fighting for those?

California was; and it was defeated.

"Rights" also imply an ability to choose. But how can a person who has been practically indoctrinated from the day s/he was born choose anything that is not what s/he is familiar with?

One thing I definitely agree about with the author of the "study" above and the supporters of this line of thought: it IS perverse, and it IS pretend.

Only, I am not talking about video games.

To end this on a positive, constructive note, here's a suggestion: how about conducting a study on WHAT exactly does cause the surge of mindless violence among the very young that has started in the 1990s and shows no signs of dying down?

I would suspect that most thinking and sentient human beings already have an idea of what is causing it. But if Harvard & Co. need to be convinced of it, so be it.

Only, it would have to be conducted and the results assessed by a panel of truly independent-thinking people who prefer the truth to the sound of their own voice and the sight of their name in the New York Times.



RELATED CONTENT:

See Jane Go mad, see Dick chop head

Your followers and you - a new chapter

According to an article published in today's New York Times,  a number of companies are busy analysing and rating millions upon millions of Twitter, Facebook and other "social networks" users, in order to determine - or rather, establish - their social influence. In other words, not only will they be counting the number of your "friends" and "followers", but also examining what can you make them do. Then they will score you. And then they will publish their scores. Online.


I can literally hear the stampede of millions of feet - or rather, fingers - rushing over keyboards, to make hay, as much of it as humanly possible, as quickly as inhumanly made possible by their overtaxed computers.


It will be interesting to see how much genuine communication - and how quickly - this latest rating competition will erode. Or rather, it would be interesting. I don't have a Twitter or a Facebook account, and I do not foresee having any such inclinations in the near or distant future. And yes, I know you can read messages on both even without having an account, but I am not that interested in pursuing this particular line of research. Besides, I am sure there is some PhD thesis on the subject being hatched as we speak.


What could possibly the purpose of such rating be? 
Duh - money, what else?
The only other - theoretical - option I can think of would be to destroy the influence of Twitter, Facebook & Co. A very cunning and daringly surreptitious plan. 


Unfortunately, there is little space for such subtleties in the online global community. The "social networks" seem to be actively populated mostly by adolescent-minded people - and adolescents are typically very mindful of other people's opinions. In fact, few matrons or grandpas are as conservative and conventional in their mindset as the average teenager.


Still, there is no reason for you to have other people's standards imposed on you. There is always an elegant solution to every predicament. This case is no exception.
And you know what the solution is.




29. VI. 2011
EDIT to add this hilarious video:

The Internet Personality Disorder

The Saddest Day of the Year

Unbelievably, it is upon us once again. The longest day of the year, the shortest night of the year.

I cannot fathom the mentality of those who, for long centuries, have celebrated this day, Midsummer, and still do. The Sol Invictus is beating a retreat. The culmination of its power marks the beginning of its inevitable descent. 
It's not Light who's winning today - it's Darkness.

I have been depressed by "midsummer" ever since the day when I first found out its astronomical meaning. Conversely, from that same day on I have been celebrating December 21st  - celebrating genuinely, in my heart. It is the gladdest day of the year. From then on, no matter how dark it might get yet, light is winning, slowly but steadily.

Still, make hay while you can. Wander through the woods; perhaps a fern seed will fall in your shoes and you will be able to understand the language of animals, as a lovely old folk tradition promises. 
Go pick St John's Wort (ironically enough, the premier natural remedy for depression) which derives its name from St John's feast (June 24th), when this wonderful flower is at the peak of its strength and should be harvested.

Enjoy the fireflies' magical, mysterious dance. 

And cherish the light. Store it and preserve it, like you would do with ripe, sweet cherries, so that it might last you through the dark days.

IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU MIGHT LIKE: The Little Green Stick

The best short story ever told

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Forever the single most convincing proof of Hemingway's - well, someone's - writing talent, and the best thing he ever wrote.

I wish I had thought of it myself.

AWE

Plains Milky Way from Randy Halverson on Vimeo.

She STOLE my labia!

This article by dr. Lissa Rankin is bound to become an instant bestseller, that much is sure.
I'll borrow one - possibly the tamest one - of the true horror stories from her gyn-ob practice.

You Stole My Labia

One of my patients sued me for stealing her labia. Swear to God. I performed a standard gynecologic procedure, and I swear I didn’t steal any body parts, but a few days after I met her, another doctor called my office and said, “I’ve got this woman here, Mabel Nile. She says you removed her uterus and her bladder and cut off her labia and licked her clitoris, with no anesthesia, right there in your office. But I took a look at her, and all her parts appear to be where they’re supposed to be. What did you do to her, anyway?”

A few days later, I got a letter from Mabel, addressed to “Dr. Rankinstein.” On the outside of the envelope was a child-like drawing of a spiky instrument next to two little rectangular boxes. Written on the envelope in red pen was, “You have something of mine, and I want it back.” Inside, I found a note, handwritten on lined notebook paper with scratchy, halting letters. “You stole my labia. Where did you put them? In the lab?”

A few weeks later, I received a notice that Mabel was suing me for stealing her labia. When I showed up in court, Mabel was already sitting on the other side at the plaintiff’s table. The judge said, “Ms. Nile. Please state your case.”

“That doctor…” She turned and pointed a sausage finger at me. “SHE STOLE MY LABIA!” she yelled, slamming her fists on the podium. “She’s got ‘em in a jar somewhere. In the lab. They’re gone. Wanna see?” She started to pull down her plaid pants. “SHE’S HOLDING THEM HOSTAGE!  I just want my labia! TELL HER TO GIVE ME BACK MY LABIA!” she bellowed. The bailiff stood up beside her, but the judge shook her head. Mabel stared into space, and the judge asked her to take her seat.

The judge shook her head and ruled in my favor. I won my counter-suit for malicious prosecution, and Mabel still owes me $100.

That was many years ago, and I have long since forgiven Mabel. I hope she found help, and most of all, I hope she finally discovered that her labia are right there between her legs, where they’ve been all along.

If you think that's bad - or hilarious - you will not believe the following stories. But beware: IF YOU'RE SQUEAMISH, DO NOT EVEN PEEP.

The Passion Flower 

(Of a woman who used her vagina as a handbag... Literally.)

Vines Growin' Outta My Jojo 

(A picturesque modern parable about the importance of education.)

I Warned You

(So did I.)


And I thought that couple - husband and wife, both around 36 years old - who, years ago, came to a hospital because the wife had severe abdominal "cramps", only to discover that she was pregnant and due any minute (she gave birth a few hours later)... I thought they were bad.

P.S. I told you so.

Julie... WHO?

A friend came to my hotel room today and, waving a British newspaper at me, asked me in a tone of puzzled, almost squeamish disgust:

"Who is this woman? And why is she famous?" 

(I should point out right now that neither of us is British.)

Another friend, a fellow journalist (who is British), peered over our shoulders and said: "Hah! Because her publicist said so." 

"Ah - not so!" I replied, pointing to a page from a popular online encyclopaedia. "Look what a fine mind from the Observer wrote about her":

If Burchill is famous for anything it is for being Julie Burchill, the brilliant, unpredictable, outrageously outspoken writer who has an iconoclastic, usually offensive, view on everything.

This quote reminds me of those parents who call their screaming and mentally challenged brats "spirited" and "independent-minded". 

Then again, the impulse behind said quote might have been just the author's possible - and possibly justified - fear of being spat at in public. Not by the public, I might add.

If nothing else, he got the first part right, all right.

What puzzles me is the basis of this fame, or rather notoriety.
She is the kind of person that people love to hate, to use the brilliant Hollywood tagline used to sell the soi-disant Count Erich Oswald Hans Carl Maria von Stroheim und Nordenwall (born as Erich Oswald Stroheim, not an Austrian prince but the son of a Jewish hatmaker from the Vienna ghetto, a fact that should appeal to Miss Burchill, which is why we mention it here).

Still, you would expect a reasonable source of attraction underlying, and feeding, that pet "hate" - much like the unseemly attraction of evil debasement in von Stroheim's characters.

In the case of an "outspoken" and "iconoclastic" journalist you would expect at least a modicum of wit or acerbic intelligence (however misguided). 

I can understand why many people admire - and love to hate - Christopher Hitchens, for example.
I do not find him all that admirable, and I certainly do not love to hate him.
In fact, I do not hate him at all; and quite often, I feel sorry for him.
(No, not because he's ill, but because his own intellect is a severely misfiring and self-defeating weapon. Apparently no friend has made him see that his irrationality is making him sick - possibly literally. Or maybe he just didn't listen to them. Or maybe he just can't help himself.)
But at least he has the wit to respond - and often attack, unprovoked - with a certain feel for the situation and a coherence of thought. He can be witty. 

I do not admire Hitchens - but I "get" him.
I get his fame and attraction in certain circles. And I respect it.

But how can anyone find anything remotely interesting in a person - a journalist, no less - who counters the following statement:

"You think yourself madly clever but ... you seem trapped in juvenility."

 with this reply: 

"... Fuck off you crazy old dyke. Always, Julie Burchill." ?

It might be predictably funny as a scene from a film a la Shirley Valentine or Educating Rita.
And, of course, it would not be out of place as a sketch in Monty Python.
In fact, I can think of quite a few MP sketches based on this type of interlocution.

But outside the world of Monty Python it is not funny. There is no wit there, acerbic or otherwise, no sly observation, no bon mot... Nothing, nothing at all. It is the type of retort that the local schoolyard bully - you know the type: all brute force and loud mouth, not one grey cell to spare - would utter.
And for a purported journalist, such lack of wit is astounding.
How could this person be a journalist for respectable newspapers - and for several decades, no less?
It boggles the mind. It certainly lessens my respect for the Times and the Guardian and the Observer. (My respect for the Sun, however, remains untouched.)

I have no dog in this race and could not care less about either of the protagonists of this uneven and decidedly dull duel of pens. 
But I can nod in agreement with the very last sentence of another thing her opponent, somewhat clumsily, told her:
 

"I am read around the world from Japan to South America, and the basis of my fame is not just journalism ... You are completely unknown outside England."

Yes, you are - except perhaps as a freak show.
And, if I may presume to speak on behalf of said world, it is no great loss.