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The sound of settled science

So, how are the Carbon Cultists? going to explain this? Never in history (the last fifty years that is) has it been this cold this late in the year in the Arctic.

As of 1st July it was still below freezing, the latest ever measured, and the ice STILL hasn’t disappeared.

Bad Gaia, naughty Gaia. Don’t you know the Cultists need that ice to go?

The coldest arctic summer in fifty years of measurement - all I can say is thank God the world is warming. Think what it would be like if it wasn’t, we might have been living through, well, the coldest arctic summer in fifty years of measurement.

I guess being a Carbon Cultist means never having to explain anything.

Carnaby Footlock

I was looking for an alter-ego, an Equity name earlier today. My wife came up with “Carnaby Footlock”. I think he’s my kinda guy. A hard living ladies man and an international geezer of mystery.

I think I’m onto something here. Any ideas?

Update: I’m now seeing CF as more of a hard-boiled PI. A Marlowe for our times.

Bubbles

Apparently Michael’s erstwhile best buddy, Bubbles the Chimp shall not be attending Jacko’s funeral.

Whilst the fact Bubble’s is actually living as a chimp in a sanctuary in Florida rather than as the deranged King of Pop’s Mini-Me is a good thing the imp of the perverse in me regrets this.

If the ape went berserk* and, say, anally raped Liz Taylor over the altar it would bring some much needed dignity to the otherwise unspeakably mawkish funereal proceedings.

It would add a hint of reality.

Or failing that, it would at least make for some truly unforgetable TV.

*Due to press camera flashguns for example. I saw that wildlife documentary King Kong and I know how to enrage an ape.

Terriblegraph

These are currently the most read stories in The Telegraph

1. Man uses nail clippers in DIY circumcision
2. Airline uses naked crew in safety video
3. Yemeni airplane crash: Amazing survival stories
4. Staff strip naked to improve morale
5. Mollie Sugden

When precisely did The Telegraph stop even pretending to be a serious newspaper?

Terrible thought

I read something a while back by Michael Portillo. He was basically saying iDave is not home and dry and he pointed to the massive swing the Tories need.

It’s a really nice summer so far.

Andy Murray might just win Wimbledon.

We might just beat the Aussies in the Ashes.

We might have something that can be spun by Voldemort as good economic news.

We might just have a “feel-good factor”

Labour might just have the balls to call a September electiop with Alan Johnson replacing Brown who will have been ousted at the party conference.

And they might just squeak it.

Of course they’d need an overall majority because I don’t see the Lib Dems propping them up. Cameron has made the Tories much more Lib Dem “friendly”. Of course it would be a paper-thin majority but that’s what the Civil Contingencies Act is for… And Voldemort has the brass-faced evil to use it too. Johnson is a nobody, a cipher. The perfect skin-suit for Mandelslitheen. .

Gin Soaked Boy

During my heady ’90s kidulthood I listened to Suede and Pulp and stuff but I kinda missed out on The Divine Comedy. I’m now making up for it…

I’m still a kidult this decade…

…it’s like Bill and Ted never graduated highschool round this gaff.

And forever may that be so.

National Distress

So the East Coast Mainline has gone profoundly tits-up.

God alone knows why they sold them the franchise. Apparently, according to the BBC, they have been doing badly in “customer relations”. Well no shit Sherlock! Their coach operations are a fucking disgrace. If you want to spend an unfeasible amount of cash to travel in a fart-filled atmosphere with Morlocks for a remarkable length of time then use one of their coaches. If not use a car, plane, train or penny farthing. Anything but the National Express. Last time I used it I was doing an overnight from Newcastle to Gatwick. It moved at a speed associated with sloths and glaciars and took an entire hour longer than the DC-10 flight to Atlanta. To add insult to injury, whilst I was trying to sleep, a sweaty cunt (the conductor) with a visible arse-crack poked me awake to inquire if I wanted to pay something ludicrous for a foam thimble of a beverage he optimistically described as “tea”. Dear reader, I had a Tom Clancy hardback and I nearly committed bloody murder with it. I’d borrowed it off my Dad and it wasn’t my book which is the only reason a vicious Clanceration to that utter cunt’s clearly exposed rectumnal passage didn’t happen.

But wait kiddies. There is more! Lord Voldemort has decided to nationalize it. Was this the plan all along? Sell the franchise on silly terms and then scrobble it? I mean, being, a Geordie and all, I have used the East Coast Line a lot and I kinda thought GNER were making a reasonable fist of it. God knows what they were on giving it to National Express when the franchise was rejiggled. I smell conspiracy but with NeuArbeit who can tell? The Nash based their bid on 9% year on year increases in profit or revenue or something technical like that which sounded right out of the NeuArbeit Big Book of Wishful Thinking. “Yeah, we’re gonna make even more profits by being utter cunts to our customers!” comes in just below, “Let’s borrow our way out of debt” in Maximum Leader Gordon’s Little Brown Book.

But wait yet more children! NE’s chief executive is called Dick Bowker*, their chief operating officer is called Ray O’Toole (a “Ray O’Tooles” sounds like something an Irish plumber has in his bag) and our transport minister (I am seriously not making this up) is called Lord Adonis. Google his image ladies because you will be seriously dissapointed. I mean you have a 3 O’Clock with Lord Adonis and you expect something from the bloody Illiad to come through the door (casually ravishing your reception staff on the way) not this.

We are going to hell in a handcart (mainly because the trains are fucked and it’s a handcart replacement service). Oh, and our two new aircraft carriers (if they are built - yeah right!) have now gone up a billion because of the MoD’s pissing about. Oh, and on the BBC News I saw an advocate of wind-power giving out his schtick in front of a completely stationary windmill. According to the BBC (unbiased as ever) wind-power has to be “at the heart of energy policy”. Idiocy! We are being run by the ring-master from Fred Carno’s Circus. I mean for cunting fuck’s sake! at least send in the clowns and small children will laugh at their comedic antics such as pouring custard down each other’s trousers and having all the doors fall off the car.

This lot aren’t clowns. Clowns amuse under 5s (sometimes). This lot are just gits and don’t even amuse anyone.

*Bowk is Geordie slang for vomiting. So I guess he spits rather than swallows when he takes Count Mandelson’s length.

Gawd Bless the NHS!

My wife has just gone out to see the doctor. She was told to bring with her…

Guess.

OK I’ll tell ya. Four AA batteries.

The NHS - truly the envy of the world!

And Americans don’t mock. It’s coming to you soon for The One shall make it so…

Terence Alexander

He died recently. Unlike the greatly lamented Jacko, through his role as Charlie Hungerford in the BBC’s ‘tec show Bergerac. he helped bring joy to my childhood in a way that Jacko’s catawalling didnt.

I only found out about Mr Alexander’s death through a Dr Who mag of my wife’s (he appeared in that too) ownership. Terry, You entertained the nation, although your idea that he must be innocent because he was a member of the Rotary Club / Golf Club / Freemasons was invariably proven wrong by your ex-son in law.

But that was the point of the show.

RIP Terry. When I was a kid you mattered more to me than that crotch-clutching weirdo but you didn’t make the headlines. Fair play. It’s probs how you wanted it that way.

Well I guess now Jersey is completely free of major crimes…

See ya on the flip-side, Terry.

Edballsukashon

The power of instruction is seldom of much efficacy, except in those happy dispositions where it is almost superfluous.*

- Edward Gibbon

You can take a whore to culture but you cannot make her think.

- Dorothy Parker

It is a truth univerally acknowledged that Ed Balls (The UK’s “Minister for Children”**) is a warp-factor 9 gigacunt. Here he is…

Is that not a face you want to beat repeatedly with a hammer? Not to make him uglier for that would be unpossible - just to take out the rage. He is cabinet minister and earns vastly more than almost all of you do or I do. But here’s the kicker… You probably make your dough doing something of benefit to someone. He earns his for fucking things up for everyone.

Apparently Neddy Balls wants a statutary requirement for every “failing” kid to get individual tuition in math and English. Look, Neddy, you cunt, I have done (privately - nice little earner for a post-grad) tuition and it only works if the parents and the kid give a toss (pretty much by definition you have the parents onboard). Your ideas Ned are not what real education is about. Some kids “fail” because they’re just thick (fact of life - for every Einstein there’s a million Jade Goodys). Some fail because they simply can’t be arsed. Some fail because their parents couldn’t give a fuck. There is of course a complex interaction between all those factors.

But this is intensely personal and intrinsically individual. Every target set and every pledge made is worse than drivel: it is evil. Education (real education) is about individuals learning stuff of interest and use to them. Anything else is nonsense or indoctrination.

Balls is planning on squandering huge amounts of monies we don’t have on trying to make an entire generation all equal and all “successful” by whatever deranged metric he is using to define that. We shall all have graduate jobs! Does he have the slightest idea how the world works? Does he not realise he is bigging-up the thick and yanking down the bright so all can be equal under the benign Lord-Protector Mandelson? I think he does and that’s why I’m calling him for the utter cunt he is because he know he will be in the inner party. Everyone being equal means everyone is a slave.

Can we please, as a nation, torture Ed Balls to death?

*I only know that because Feynman quotes it in his magesterial “Lectures on Physics”. And RPF knew a bit about teaching. Of all the awards he won (including the 1965 Nobel Prize for physics) he was proudest of his Ørsted Medal for teaching.
**Only still in the position because Mickey J is now dead.

Zee Flashing Knobs!

Ask Herr Flick (of the Gestapo).

And when you get bored with that there is always this.

I so love ‘Allo ‘Allo.

It would never be made today. When was the last time the BBC actually made a sitcom that was funny?

Stuff and Nonsense

Jaded Haven says exactly what I also think about the ’stan. We need to get out or get medieval on their asses. She puts it better than me though. If you don’t have Jaded Haven bookmarked you are wasting the money you pay your ISP.

More press rot on what shape and size women ought to be from some deranged lunatic at the Daily Mail (I know that doesn’t narrow it down). Money quote:

But the truth is even her bosoms were tiny: a 34B at most. They merely looked enormous because the rest of her was so svelte.

Huh? That’s quite a “normal” breast size in my experience. And this is Britain, love. It ain’t that froggy metric 34B nonsense. That is what is known as 1BSH (British Standard Handful). She then goes on to describe her own anorexia and then having reduction surgery on her “udders” as she calls ‘em. Might I humbly suggest that Liz Jones (for it is she) has perhaps got body image issues herself and really ought not to be hectoring the rest of womankind? Not that she ought to be anyway.

In Britain they are trying to “cure” homosexuals with exorcism. Money quote

Mr Ogbe-Ogbeide last performed the ritual in January to help a young man, who was planning to marry his girlfriend but said he was also in love with another man.

He added: ‘He said if it carried on it would upset their plans to have kids and he wanted to live in matrimony.’

Why do I see that one ending up on Tricia in a couple of years time?

Anthropogenic Global Warmers are no longer even pretending they are not a cult. The Polar Bear Specialist Group have banned a Canadian scientist with 30 years of polar bear-ing from attending their beanie in Copenhagen because his views on climate-change are “not helpful”. He’d signed the Manhatten Declaration and also believed that polar bear numbers were actually growing. I’m beside myself with rage over this. That. Just. Isn’t. Science. Science has to defend itself against contrary viewpoints. This is more like Medieval Demonology. I wonder if that true lion of atmospheric physics, Al Gore PhD* will give the keynote?

Fortunately proper science is carrying on elsewhere. Craig Venter and BP might just be onto something. I wonder if something similar might work on the Alberta oil-shale? OK, it’s early days and all that but Venter is very much a can-do kinda guy. If anyone is gonna do for this century what Tesla did for the twentieth it’s him. Remember his private concern putting a bomb under the Human Genome Program? How much fun would it be if we could finally poke in the eye with a pointed stick Tsar Putin and the Oil Sheiks?

That of course is only if we aren’t reduced to eating dung first… Magisterial return to form from the Devil who seemed to have been a little sick of sin recently. Read the whole thing. I shall though quote from the original Telegraph article…

The disclosure that ministers have little intention of reigning back on spending in the short term came as the Centre for Economics and Business Research warned that public spending was set to rise to 50 per cent of gross domestic product by the end of the next financial year.

That’s an important psychological tipping point. Once it is a penny over 50% we will be a fully owned “pocket-money” economy. We will no longer be paying taxes, they will be (through their infinite largesse) allowing us to keep some of our money. How generous is Gauleiter Balls! All Praise to Balls! Gassing the fuckers like tubercular badgers is now the only answer. Although I’d like five minutes alone with Ed Balls, two bricks and a rusty farm-implement first. His surname would be hideously ironic by the end of it.

*Prickheaded Dunce

Born to Run

I’m not really a Springsteen fan but I watched the last half-hour of his set at Glastonbury on the telly box last night. Well I say I’m not a fan but whilst I don’t like his politics I do find him evocative of a certain pre-Prius America. And…

Jeezus, he’s nearly sixty and he was well belting it out and putting on a hellishly kinetic show right to the end. I only found out later that was a 5/2 hour set (physics backgound - I think in vulgar fractions - for some reason it winds peeps up). Gotta hand it to the guy. Like Tom Jones he’s still got it. I mean really still got it. He’s like The Stones and the Divine Debbie and Tom Jones and Tina Turner. He just keeps on truckin’.

I thought three things though, mainly -

The first was wondering what Jacko, nine years Springsteen’s junior, would have been like if he had looked after himself and not degenerated into the drug-addled wreck of a man he was in his twilight years

The second was that unlike so many contemporary beat combos Bruce and the E-Street Band actually looked like they were really enjoying themselves. That was great to see. I have had a gutfull of watching professional miserablists thinking they were being profound by looking like they’d rather be having dental surgery from Larry Olivier in Argentina at the time. Yes, that’s you Mozzer, you utterly dismal twat. Or my personal bête noire, Moby. Moby is a right-on, non-smoking, teetotal and vegan god-botherer who really doesn’t do drugs and who has been known to descend into the musical Room 101 that is known as “Christian Rock”. I’d rather climb coconut trees with Keef Richards. At least we could have a larf on the way to A&E.

But mainly what I thought was…. Well, at one point Springsteen who was sweating like a pig in a sauna and heavily backlit and the perspiration was evaporating off him and it looked like smoke and that he was literally on fire. My wife says, “Bloody hell! They’ve set The Boss on fire!” It really did look like it. It was quite bizarre to watch.

Fortunately we didn’t lose two musical legends in the same week. The intermong would collapse under the weight of the faux-grief…

Although to be fair spontaneous human combustion is one hell of a way to end a gig.

Very Spinal Tap.

Though I guess only if it happens to the drummer.

Stonehenge, Where The Demons Dwell…

…Where the banshees live, and they do live well,
Stonehenge, where a man’s a man
And the children dance to the pipes of pan.

A short but interesting discussion about policing of Stonehenge at Samizdata led me to reflect a little on alternatives. That is, how choices are made depending on what alternatives are on offer. As I said in the Samizdata thread, I have a little emotional investment in the Henge issue, as I’m a bit of an old hippy so, rather more than some other folks, I felt very aware of a kind of police state evolving long before New Labour arrived. In fact, many of those now decrying New Labour were, I suspect, rather pleased with the Thatcher government’s harsh treatment of hippies and, moreso, the miners back then, and would have ridiculed talk of a police state and described these actions as necessary.

I also remember watching one of those po-faced BBC shows with Michael Buerk, The Moral Maze or Pillock Talk or something, in which a few worthies including pudding-faced Michael debated some moral issue, and it was around the time the Tories decided to follow up cracking down on hippies by cracking down on raves, and for pretty much the same reasons- and that was something the esteemed Guido Fawkes was involved in back then, and indeed he wrote a Libertarian Alliance pamphlet thingy warning about the new Health And Safety Police. So there was one of the procession of Criminal Justice Acts that made “rhythmic electronic music” illegal, or some such piffle, and this young lady from the Ravey Davey Gravy scene was on Buerk Talk, and she said it was like a police state. And after she’d done her five minutes and been dragged off by a floor assistant, Buerk snorted down his nose about how he’d been to real police states, and she was talking a load of poo.

But nowadays, there’s a lot more people talking about Britain being some kind of police state, and maybe she wasn’t talking so much poo after all. It’s not unreasonable to chart the progress from the early 80s to today, as the requirement for the entire state to get involved in ever more trivial matters has progressed. You need a licence for this, approval for that, an inspection of the other, you can protest if you don’t say Bollix to Blair and don’t offend anybody and it’s on an agreed day somewhere approved by the Police where nobody can hear you. We have smoking inspectors and bin inspectors and policemen checking that nobody is standing up in a pub (”vertical drinking”) and fingerprinting everywhere and Glastonbury so I hear is rather like Stalingrad but a bit more polychromatic, and so on. We get stopped and searched and searched and stopped and randomly checked for this and that, and PCSOs leap into the breach to tell us to pour our beer away and so on, and are you carrying a knife sir? Can we just search you to check?

So, er, back to the point. The inestimable commenter Sam Duncan made a valid point during that discussion- that it’s all very well talking about heavy handed police tactics, but on the other hand being kept awake all night by Ravey Davey and his hundred gigawatt sound system is no fun at all. I can certainly appreciate that too. I suffered the most appallingly noisy neighbour once, at a time when I was working long hours and needed my beauty sleep particularly, and indeed it is no joy. Something has to be done.

But this is where we must ask about the alternatives on offer. If the question is, would you like to be kept awake all night, or get a good night’s sleep, obviously virtually anyone would answer, “I’ll take the good night’s sleep. Make it so, state!”

But if the question is, “Would you rather occasionally (e.g. one night per year) experience the disturbance of a pop festival several fields away, or would you rather live in the state I described above- the one with the endless police powers and inspectors and all that crap- then I at least would answer, “I’ll put up with the pop festival, thanks”. So we need very much when choosing what we want to be presented with the actual alternatives on offer.

This applies for instance to drugs- current policy pretends to offer a choice of a society with heroin addicts or one without heroin addicts- that is prohibition is presented as if it can attain that second state. But it can’t. So the actual alternatives on offer are, “would you like a state with legal heroin addicts, or one with illegal heroin addicts, an immense illegal drugs industry and devastated inner city communities?” We don’t have a choice of “no heroin addicts”. It isn’t on the table.

“Would you like everyone to be healthier?” you are asked. “Why, yes!” you may reply. But the actual choices on offer are, “some people become ill due to drinking too much” and “the state snatching your beer out of your hand”.

“Would you like to be safer?”. Most people think that sounds good. Until they find it means not being able to bake a cake for the church social because their kitchen hasn’t been inspected and their labrador likes to sleep under the big table, health and safety, can’t be too careful.

And so on.

So we should be careful of what choices we are making. If we want our old freedoms, we may have to put up with some things we don’t like, or take a risk of Mrs Poggit’s raisins giving us food poisoning (though they never have before). We may decide we’d prefer that the state bans raves. Or farmhouse cakes in church. But we should at least stand back and check that we know what the actual alternatives being offered are.

Dies Irae

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

- John 3:16

What can men do against such reckless hate?

- King Theoden, The Two Towers, JRR Tolkien

I have been following the deranged “career” of Fred Phelps of Westboro “Baptist” “Church” Topeka, KS for sometime. When I first found their website years ago I emailed a Topeka paper because I thought it was a spoof. I got a nice email back from a sub-editor explaining that Phelps was alas very real and the entire State of Kansas was embarrassed about his deranged vitriol. And that is before they started picketting funerals of US Iraq war-dead.

They jumped the shark years ago. This though is performing formation aerobatics over a tank of plesiosaurs that would put Moscow State Circus acrobats equipped with TsAGI jet-packs to shame…

Well at least the tune’s a bit more upbeat than this I guess.

That kid at the end is something else though…

Talking of religious child abuse from the other end of the spectrum she could always be packed off to Dickie Dawkin’s Atheist Bootcamp.

Yup, The Dawkster who has for years railed against religions for indoctrinating kids is doing the same thing. My personal beef is mainly that camp-fire songs will include that appalling nihilistic dirge, Lennon’s “Imagine”.

A plague on both their houses!

Signed,

Your radical house-trained principled agnostic, Nick.