Like one of your insects- larger, of course.

Did you used to like Mystery Science Theater 3000 back in the day? I mean, um, when someone burnt some AVIs of it on a disc for you about a year ago? Yeah?

Did you know that it's still being made?

Well... sort of.

Contenders - Ready!

Something that makes me kinda happy, though is a little irrelevant and maybe even irreverent now I come to think of it - Some might even call it a light hearted subject change...

While I was researching whether or not Robert Mugabe had won the Noble Peace Prize (as my friend said, "Maybe he did before he turned into a mentalist") I chanced upon the best name in history. The man who preceeded Mugabe as President of Zimbabwe was a Mr. Canaan Banana.

So I invite you to come up with your own suggestions. Stage names don't count in my opinion, it has to be what it says on the birth certificate. (Otherwise the competition would be open to Mr. T and nothing could beat that.)

A fraction of the sum

I'm still in a Red State (not metaphorically), but since my well of fresh ideas runneth dry, I will compose a brief [editor's note: this ends up becoming a filthy lie in a few paragraphs] England playlist. I'm glad that something came of my suggestion - I enjoyed reading all of your posts (despite the fact that YOU RUINSED MY IDEA).

Each Coming Night by Iron and Wine - this was my goodbye to America song. I became obsessed with the song while living in Raleigh, then grew more obsessed after seeing Iron and Wine. By Boston, it was virtually all I listened to; it was the last song I played on my computer before boarding the plane and the last song I played on guitar in the U.S.

Saddest Vacant Lot in all the World by Grandaddy - not sure. I don't listen to Grandaddy much, but that song plays in my head whenever I think of the pre-internet period at Regent Street.

Crazy Love by Van Morrison (Bob Dylan version) - simple: the song kicks ass. The duet was so good that I listened to it fanatically. Easily the best song I burgled from Sarah.

I Want Wind to Blow by The Microphones - I listened to this song a lot in the early days. I always wondered why it didn't seem to catch on with anyone; this is such a Nathan Hill song.

Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes by Paul Simon - anyone at Regent Street would have to put this song. It blasted through the house 1239489187290341023 times and is the Sarah Baker song.

For Wicked Gil (demo) by Band of Horses - little did I know that the album would have one of the best songs of the last 30 years on it, but the demos were still excellent.

Sophisticated Fuck Princess by Carissa's Wierd (sic) - over Winter Holiday, I became a cashier once more (poverty...). The break was fantastic, but this depressing song became the Publix 2005 anthem.

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service - the Morocco song. Crazy bus rides.

Heard 'em Say by Kanye West - when Loni and I were in Italy, the only English came in the way of music videos. This was the only video (well, besides that horrid Pink song. Yeah, she's making fun of crappy female artists; how ironic since SHE IS ONE).

One With the Freaks by The Notwist - Nathan reawakened my The Notwist obsession from three years ago.

Let's Trade Skins by Great Lake Swimmers - this reminds me of Civ 4 during Spring Vacation. When I finished traveling during that break, I needed relaxing music; I was spent.

This Beard is for Siobhan by Devendra Banhart - regrowing the beard/street musician license.

These Days by Nico - one of the main England songs. Specifically, it was the Scotland NO DEAL theme song, and I mainly identify it with the two weeks Matt was in town.

Angeles by Elliott Smith - I've listened to this song religiously for 7 years, but the frequency I listened to it/played it in late May-June was mentally ill.

Wake Up by The Arcade Fire - this is bonfire song. Not Bonfire Night (which was Band of Horses, The Microphones, Van Morrison, and Grandaddy), mind you. This song is the essence of backyard bonfires.

Carry the Zero by Built to Spill - Greece. I can't hear this song without DYING to go back. But I will agree with you, Alyssa: it was a blast singing Wish You Were Here on the bus, and the song does remind me of you and Greece. Still, Pink Floyd was "just sooo high school."

Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks - The end of England, specifically the day mentioned in the previous post. The expression, "I need to go to the woods" is synonymous with Waterloo Sunset. Is that not the vibe for the song?

I realize that this is an incredibly boring/long post. HA! I enjoyed it. I'll post my current list in a week or so. For the next post, I will describe how my train to a phd program was derailed by cruel fate (incompetence).

Shiur'im Sha'rim

It seems the thing to do here is to slightly invert the post that has gone before, qua 'Being a soulless scientismist, I am less aware of music. Consequently, I've decided to take Pete's concept in a bit of a different direction.' and 'I was going to hop on the waggon train and do my own songs of the year, but there was a slight problem...' And as I am of the opinion that I read far too much academic writing to have any time for originality, it would seem appropriate to do the same, so I intend to list a few milestone songs: you know, tracks that signify musical moments, significant eras, wotnot.
Pre-University (because everything now can be divided into pre-University, before real life began and university - there not being a post-uni era as yet) Fool on the Hill, by the Beatles. Yeah, it's hard being the only literate resident of your council estate... My parents were of the appropriate generation, and on the right side of the mods-rocker divide to furnish my brother and I with a childhood soundtrack that consisted largely of Beatles LP's. So, when it came to the '90's, I'm proud to say that I eschewed the saccharine pop of preference amongst my peers and chose a healthy diet of Brit-pop. And now, there's nothing like Blur, Pulp... not Coldplay.... to evoke memories of fun and sunny Britishness, when Labour had just come into power and it was the era of the working man. How things change. Early university years, Morrissey, hence Nathan's designation in the 'No F in 'Acebook Group', which I can't link to...stinky. Miserable, poetic and ever so slightly militant vegetarian. These days I go for big sounds, be it of the obvious big band Jools Holland variety, good indie-pop (Feeling, Kooks, Rundown - a lesser known band from the mean streets of Brum - all the way back to the Strokes, the Clash, the Jam and Madness) or the 1812 overture. The era of the pod-cast has increasingly pigeon holed my music listening into that what I listen to when I need to make life feel alive and jumpy, as opposed to filling empty sound, as was my wont. Sorry guys, the allure of 'ask the priest.com' and 'Jewish podcast weekly' is just too strong. I also listen to an enormous amount of Israeli music, partly to keep my Hebrew ticking over, but also to support those great musicians who are trying to break down barriers in Israeli society, Idan Raichel being one that you might have heard of.
As for a soundtrack to Canada, last term it was 'Float on' by Modest Mouse: a really great 'go on, go to school, things will be better once you don't live with a weirdo' track. Now however, I'm sitting in my new living room, watching the snow fall, to the effect of instant prettiness - maybe the track for this semester is something by Teddy Thompson.

And you know that every female who read Little Women at an impressionable age has a secret desire to meet a guy called 'Teddy.'

So long, Marianne

I was going to hop on the waggon train and do my own songs of the year, but there was a slight problem - namely that pre-15 my music taste was embarassing, post-15 my music taste was similar to Nathan's and now I'm over 19, my music taste is Nathan's (with a lag of a few months since he introduced me to most of my favourite bands).

The only notable exception is a deep rooted love of Pink Floyd, the Kinks and Leonard Cohen¹ as well as a nostalgic adoration of the Offspring.

I do have a slight problem with music, though. And I know I've got a follower in this one (you an' me both, brother). If I get hooked on a track, I'll listen and re-listen to my own delight and to the despair of my neighbours until I physically can't bear it any more. Example from my iTunes:
Caring is creepy by the Shins, play count 2.
New Slang by the Shins, play count 41.

On another note, if only this blog had a zippy little thing like Livejournal where you could write what music you're listening to right now, and choose from a whole range of smileys to describe your mood aptly and succinctly. Wouldn't that make life more fun?²

---

1. Not since Ashlee Simpson has one person achieved so much with so little. Listen to him - he can't sing! But it's still brilliant.
2. Maybe this is sarcasm.

Dogs that love the rain

Being a soulless scientismist, I am less aware of music. Consequently, I've decided to take Pete's concept in a bit of a different direction. Here are a few litmus-paper tracks taken at different depths of history.

Music I was raised with: Buffalo Soldier by Bob Marley and the Wailers. My exposure to any Reggae or Ska apart from the patron saint is pretty limited, and this isn't even my favourite track of his. I listened to it a whole lot as a child, though.

The first music I purchased included You're in the Air by REM. My abiding affection for REM is attested by the fact that I included this track in a custom playlist I made a week ago. (It was called "Bishop Princes".) It's not the intention, but I don't know a track that better summarises the haze of angst and confusion that is being a young teenager.

The teenage years were dominated by REM and my trajectory through Radio 1's key demographic, and consequently I listened to rockstars like Coldplay and Stereophonics: Pick a Part that's New is as good an illustration as any. When I arrived at university, pretty much the first thing I did was to stick in REM's Monster album and mash play: Track one is What's the Frequency Kenneth.

Association with indesque types gives my mid-years litmus: I fought in a war by Belle and Sebastian. This will always be associated with the chronic friction between me and the indesques based on my two most unpopular opinions: poetry is just bad prose and CS Lewis's arguments blow chunks. Hard.

There was a fairly distinct discontinuity at the end of my third year, because most people graduated. Going into the fourth year entailed a lot of realisations, like "I have no ambitions beyond graduation" and "Some of my friends are sub-editors now". One summer-vacation track is The Lord God Bird by Sufjan Stevens (download), introduced to me by the rebirth of music radio. The song was played as a requiem for London, which gives it more staying power in my mind because I was on the Tube later that same day.

Another track I first heard on that podcast was Woman King (download) by Iron and Wine, which might be considered the seal on my process of musical americanization. The actual nod for my fourth-year title track, though, is going to go to The Trapeze Swinger, if only because it reminds me of all the funfairs we went on.

What's the track for The Loughborough Year? I don't know, though Calexico's Black Heart is looking strong.

As long as I gaze on Waterloo Sunset, I am in paradise

I met my step-family from 8 years ago today. They're nice people; also, being French, they make excellent crepes.

But more importantly, a music update. On one of my last days in England, Nathan and I went to a pub after a tremendous trip to a forest ripe with bunny rabbits. As we sat outside drinking beer, a band began practicing Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks - quite well, I might add. When I returned to America, I realized that the song was my defining end of the journey song (much like Carry the Zero by Built to Spill was the Greece song, and The Greatest Adventure was Bilbo Baggins' song during his trip to the Lonely Mountain). This prompted two things: 1) I set about making mix cds for the last several years of my life and 2) I began furiously listening to The Kinks. Way to go, England. After acquiring Something Else by the Kinks and The Village Green Preservation Society, I decided that Ray Davies is a badass. This also led to a recent fling with The Zombies and The Clash. In case you were wondering (which you weren't), This Will be Our Year by The Zombies is my defining song of the new year and absolutely incredible.

But on to the point. While I do not have the mix here (as I am in Houston, TX with my father and co.), I intend to post my most memorable songs from last year. I think that it would be interesting for you to do the same. If you don't feel like it, I understand (but will hate you). It was enjoyable for me, and I therefore recommend it. Also, that pub trip day basically summed up everything I enjoyed about England.

Continuity/Subject Change

In response to Charlie's earlier posts about science being deliberately misconstrued by PETA, and on the theme of misinformation I would like to point something out about this.

My intent is not to argue against the values of the people that carry out these attacks. There are, and always will be people who are of a militant turn of mind and they will use any excuse to attack other people. There is no way I could persuade them otherwise and so any deliberations on the subject are futile and deeply frustrating.

My objection to this is actually that the journalist in question has got his facts wrong. He strongly implies that it is the work of the ALF (Animal Liberation Front) who were the darlings responsible for my boat house getting burnt. In actuality, while they have no objection to arson, the ALF never knowingly endanger human life¹. Their website is actually quite funny to read as all they seem to be is annoying people, viz: "5 Hens liberated from egg farm", "Meat advert corrected" and my particular favourite, "Chicken farm raided, 22 chicks freed". That was on the 5th of January, in the middle of winter. Letting chicks freeze to death doesn't seem very compassionate to me.

The most likely suspect for these attacks is a group called ARM who hit the news fairly recently for stealing the body of a grandmother from her grave because a guinea pig farm didn't close down when threatened. They have also voiced their desire to assasinate prominent Scientists involved in vivisection.

Luckily, judging by the success of their attacks, they are all bark and no bite.

---

1. I would be the first person to give a member of the ALF a black eye, but they are hardly the worst activist group I can think of.

More about Devon

Of course, when I talked about Devon before I forgot one way Nathan-1784 might have left home: the bounding main!
Listne to a Westcountry accent, and then a Pirate accent.

The sea is still there.

Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum.

Well...

Since it seems that people have mentioned a great deal about the region they come from as well as their family, I present to you the politics of Shrewsbury and Atcham (and Montgomeryshire/Powys) in a nutshell.

My local MP, Daniel Kawczynski is notable for being the tallest MP in Parliament¹.
Lembit Opik, the crooked-smiling MP for my neighbouring constituency hit the news recently for dumping his weathergirl fiancee and instantaneously taking off with one of the Cheeky Girls. Remember, Kids - it's a meeting of minds.

I think that's about it.

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1. Only Shrewsbury's website has a cow on it.

Well, if we're all doing it...

I fear this will be a significantly less cosmopolitan tale than my fellow posters, but here goes. I'm entirely brummie, aside from my paternal grandmother who was born and brought up in Wales, at least for the first 20 years or so of her life. The net result, as she and her brother used to look after me before I was old enough to go to school, was a slight Welsh tinge to an otherwise brummie accent, a penchant for leeks, and an ability to sing 'the little saucepan is boiling on the fire' in Welsh. Other than that, it's all brum. But, we're an interesting mix unto ourselves. Living near the Black Country means that brummies from my part of the city have a fairly distinct regional dialect: not only do we all sound like Ozzy Osborne, but we have different words for stuff too. For example: the phrase "I dae want a piece from yam yow, tarra a bit.' translates as 'I don't want a sandwhich from you, good-bye.' Whilst recognising that deepest darkest Devon and its environs has a much more interesting dialect tradition, it's still pretty neat. And enough to make us the linguistic butt of many a jest. (Ye olde brummie joke (say it in the accent) - what's the diference between a buffalo and a bison? You can't watch your hands in a buffalo.) And there's a certain amount of positive identity generated when you come from a city considered one of the worst in Britain, and with a population widely considered to be a few braincells short of basic literacy. This isn't entiely innacurate, though on the aesthetic side, there has been substantial redevelopment of the city centre, and not all of it is this ugly. In reality, the sprawling suburbs of the second city are very divided: the 'haves' concentrated around Solihull, (those living within in it emphasizing the last syllable and pronouncing the first to rhyme with 'holy', the rest of us referring to the place as 'solly' (ryhme with molly) 'ull.') And the 'have-nots' sprawl everywhere else. The former vote Tory, go to the cricket at Edgbaston and recitals at Birmingham University Conservertoire. The latter vote labour, watch the footie at villa park or St Andrews (but never the twain shall meet) and occasionally get casual work washing up after fancy recitals at the university. And being such a loarge city means that the only way to have a decent quality of life means having a car. Those who don't venture from sprawling estate to sprawling estate on foot or by sometimes dangerous public transport. And by estate, I'm not referring to any of your deer and Capability Brown nonsense.

I would hope that in 20 years time, brummies have shaken off their inferiority complex and have taken advantage of the many opportunities for young people in the city. Many do live below the poverty line, and strong local councils are effective in terms of their long term strategic efforts to make education a grass roots and accessible commodity. But the rule of chav culture and inverse anti-education snobbery prevails, and in the search for an identity, more and more kids of tender teenage years turn to early Mother and Father-hood.

The story in Hamilton, from what I have learned thus far, is suprisingly similar. Stay tuned.

The culture of the red enclaves

Well, they all seem to being doing stuff about their cultures, so I get to, too. Or just ignore me. I tend just to talk for the fun of it. (Actually, at one point, I had [intentionally] perfected the art of killing conversations dead. There's nothing more fun to do than create a whole series of awkward pauses amoung people who normally get on really well. It also exposes a person for who they are remarkably well.)

Well, we know I come from the midwest and the south. Except, in the south, I came from Raleigh (the capital) and one of the boomiest (is that a word) cities in one of the areas with a ridiculously high PhD count. So really, I came from a cosmopolitan south (heck, our local art museum is one of the best places of Egyptology outside of Britian).

But, boy, can I tell you about the midwest. I lived in the Quad Cities (which is quite liberal, and is "blue" Iowa), but then I moved to Illinois. My dad's family's from Northern (red) Iowa, and they sure know their culture. Aside from the wide variety in their diet (my uncle swears and yells when they "ruin" the salad by putting tomatoes, carrots or anything that's not iceberg lettuce in it, my father had never had lasagne until he went to university and the only vegetables that they eat are what they grow - corn, peas, green beans, beets, lettuce. Oh, and the might buy potatoes. If you want fruit, you get an apple or a banana. Oranges are for Christmas, if you're lucky - not that they can't afford or get variety, but why would they want to? Apples is fine for them. My sister was asked if my brother was a vegetarian because [despite eating 2 steaks and some chicken] he didn't eat some pork tenderloin), northern Iowans have a lovely sympathy for other cultures. Because Iowa schools are very, very uniform throughout the state, the Iowa exams are used for a significant proportion of US standardised testings. However, this makes people think that, instead of providing a very good base mean, median and range, this means Iowa is the best. People from central Iowa honestly can't think of why people, after going to Iowa State and University of Iowa people are leaving the (very) flat, (very) dull, (very) average state.

Of course, I didn't live in Iowa but for 3 years, I lived in Illinois, one of the bluest states that's elected 2 of the 3 black senators since Reconstruction and is overrunning with Dems in their state house - the incredibly unpopular Democratic Governor was recently relected by 10% against a very competent Republican (who had pretty much unanimous support in the press). The reason for that is Chicago (60% of Illinois' population), which is overwhelmingly Democratic. The rest of the state is as red as northern Iowa. And guess where I lived?

That's right. I lived in a place (Peoria) where people wonder why other people don't want to live in Peoria. I lived in a place where Bradley University (never heard of it? Really... that's odd. People here put it in line with Northwestern, Duke and Georgetown, so it must be famous) is highly respected. I lived in a place where it's not that uncommon to find someone who hasn't gone more than 45 minutes in any direction.

There's mighty great arrogance in these places. Not because they've seen the world, and don't like what they see. Not because they've been told that they're the best. Not because they're confident in what they do. They're arrogant because they don't need anything. The saying "if it plays in Peoria, it'll play anywhere" fits Peoria (and northern Iowa, but there's no significantly sized market to speak of) very well. The people here just are creative enough to realise they need things. They make do. They settle for what they have. Only if there's shining benefits to novelty will the people of Peoria embrace it. And because they are content (not necessarily happy), they assume that everyone else should be too. And so when people from "foreign" places (read Chicago, St. Louis or anywhere 3 hours or more away) don't settle, they assume that the people aren't getting a lifestyle as good as theirs. So, naturally, they get arrogant. And believe me, arrogance is rife in this little community.

However, Pete's completely right. Our generation is changing. The arrogance is less common amoung those that are younger, especially in Peoria. It seems that the internet and other such communicative devices have opened the world for some. And yet many, many are still the same.

As for the other attributes, belligerent is spot on for here, and there ain't nobody who has a stronger work drive than those of the red parts of Iowa and Illinios - they're the good ol' "pull yourself up by the boots" Reaganites and those who feel they owe their companies the best work, regardless of time or money.

Dear god, I wrote a lot. And I didn't even make my point.

The lesser known American culture war (beyond the Blue and Red)

Since there are so many regions, it's difficult to pinpoint American cultural traits. What makes it even more challenging is the fact that Generation Y idealizes traditionally non-American values.

John Wayne and Robert Redford generally exemplify the traditional male American model. Assertive, confident, hard-working, and willing to laugh (despite often dire circumstances), their characters showed Americans what to aspire for (saying hello to your neighbors). Of course, the translation of values is rarely perfect; assertive can become belligerent (GIVE ME MY GODDAMN FOOD), confident shifts to arrogant (foreigners are worse than me in every possible way), hard-working means work-obsessed, and willing to laugh can turn into either 1) too stupid to do anything but laugh or 2) despair.

Our generation prefers men to be less traditionally Amerimasculine (the values in the above paragraph) and "unique." We do not idealize the hard-working; we prefer those who got rich quick. Our heroes are Chris Moneymaker (the amateur poker champ) and reality TV instacelebs. Apparently - I have not seen this poll with my eyes, and God only knows if I can trust the radio - a majority of Americans in my generation said that the most important thing to them was fame. We reject 9 to 5's and middle class jobs as boring, below us, and So Yesterday. Sites like MySpace allow us to cast ourselves in whatever unique sense we want, trendy people desperately argue that "they were doing this before..." and YouTube and blogs let us present ourselves to the world as non-TV instacelebs using any persona we choose. We want to be famous and have exciting, unique jobs, but we want them now. We don't like the idea of putting in 1 second of "9-5 drudgery." We rail against the idea of middle class suburbia (even though we grew up in it). In this way, we're also a hyperimage based culture. It's all about being famous, having people notice you, standing out, appearing to be cool. Eye contact is going out of style like small pox, assertive is suddenly scary, and people hate - HATE - the idea that someone can insult/laugh about their opinions (just read all of the hate mail for somethingawful.com's Your Band Sucks segment). Our new values are being "different," getting noticed, accepting relativism, and above all else, "not selling out" (to the Man, the record label, or really anything). I'm not exactly sure why, but we also love acting sad/whiny; my guess is that it's another way to get noticed.

It makes me wonder how Americans will be perceived around the world 15-20 years from now. Following the Great War, Americans - I think - were stereotyped with the traditional values; currently, we have the bad version of the traditional values. Who knows what we'll be known for in the future?

Anywhere but here

I was indeed listening to Radio 4 this afternoon when they discussed basically what Nate just wrote. Part of the report stated that girl from a working class English background was asked why she wasn't participating in Citizenship class. She replied "I don't come from anywhere".


I, on the other hand, am one quarter American (from Georgia, y'all), one quarter of me is Derbyshire mining stock and half of me is from Clapham, Saaaf London.

My paternal grandfather was a cobbler, and one of his legs was shorter than the other. When my parents met, my father described my mother as looking like a sack of potatos, and told her he didn't know why he was going out with her because he didn't like fat women.
My maternal grandmother dumped an un-named very rich man to move to England and become a miner's wife. My great uncle loves genealogy, and as a result I know that I have ancestors on the Mayflower, in the Domesday book and on both sides of the Salem witch hunts.

My grandfather proposed to my grandmother over the phone. He said "Sally, you're going to have to marry me!" and she replied "...I guess so."

Family history is fun!

Culture 2.0

There are two inputs into my brain-stew today¹.

Firstly, English schools have been told that when you're talking about diversity, it's OK for white folks to have an ethnic identity too. In addition, the thinking is that we need to do better on teachin' people to be British. I approve of the list of things they've boiled Britishness down to: not breakin' the law, minding your own business and it not being our place to judge.

Me, I know what my culutral and ethnic heritage are. Three of my four great-grandfathers were blacksmiths and the fourth was called John Smith. I'm a Devon boy, which means I have an accent that is like Devon cheese: mild to rustic. The ideal of the Devon man as a "good ol' chap"- not to be confused with good ol' boy- is the one I grew up with. The good ol' chap is a friend to all, generous with money, hard-working, profoundly unpretentious, and skillful. I know I'm not the last, but I'm doing my best to be the others.

Migrant workers from Poland and the Baltic states have integrated amazingly well into the part of Devon I'm from. There aren't many people down there who aren't from there- I remember the first time I saw someone who was not ethnically English, at the age of nine. Now there are a large number of Poles in Okehampton, and what you hear everywhere is "Say what you like, they work hard". There is a general feeling that some sons of Devon could learn a lesson from the new arrivals rather than spending their time haging around outside village-hall discos in shell-suits, drinking Woodpecker cider.

Secondly, I've had good news and now need to take action on it². I feel, vaugely, that the appropriate thing I need to is to "git'r'done", or something. I know there are people who know exactly how the phrase should be used, but wish everyone would stop saying it. It occured to me that a litmus-test of culture is the set of words you understand. Obvious? Perhaps.

As a Devon boy I know crush as a noun, swale as a verb, and the distinction between something that is lush and something that is a properjob. However, my parentage also gives me duppy, ignorant meaning aggressive or truculent, and the proverb that duppies know who to frighten.

However, In the past week I've heard more words by ZeFrank than by my parents. I also know the significance of phrases like Sportsracer, street-chicken and power-move.

My education at Oxford gave me quad, Bumps, hacks and so on, not to mention the white bronco, Cinco de Mayo or conscious clichés like Shelob queen of the Spiders³.

As a geek I can describe situations according to their saving throws and might instruct someone to take twenty on a certain task.

Sometimes terms can be familiar without having had any direct contact, nor the slightest desire to.⁴

These words are shibboleths, badges, banners.

The point is that had I been born five hundred years ago, I would probably have spent my whole life in the company of the same few hundred people. I wouldn't have one set of friends for whom the codewords include Dan Merino, former Quarterback of the Miami Dolphins and other friends who don't know what a quarterback is or why dolphins would have one. This is a phenomenon of the social mobilty of the modern age, but it's really gone critical with internet. Some of the recognisably distinct cultures I'm a touched by of are British (Devon), Physics, Mansfield College, Barbados and US (blue).

On the off-chance that sociologists haven't gotten around to it yet, I'm going to call this either "polyculturalism" or "Venn-culture".

1). I really hope people start using "brain-stew" to describe a set of poorly-thought-out ideas.
2). Riddles in the dark.
3). I mean, I have no idea of Shelob is the queen on spiders, or just a really big one. It might be like calling Phil The Power Taylor the King of Men.
4). I estimate that I recognise about 3/4 of the terms on that shirt, not to mention im in ur base verbing ur nouns, g2g, series of tubes, OMGWTFBBQ and dozens more.

[Insert pun with "Ewe" in it]

I always love it when people with no knowledge of science whatsoever start to protest something that isn't actually what it is. Like this. Apparently, testing to determine how hormones determine the sexual prefrences of rams is "frightening," and has no relevence to science at all, and especially to humans, so should be stopped.

Now, let's forget that;

1. The scientist in question actually says that this has little implication for humans, whose sexuality is "is much more complex than that of rams so we don't refer to the animals as gay."¹
   
2. The actual experiment doesn't alter "gay sheep". It alters sheep who prefer ewes to prefer rams, sexually. By their terminology, it alters straight sheep.
   
3. The experiment didn't work. At all.

Now, the thing is, PETA's attacking the researchers (both verbally and physically). I'm not entirely sure why, because the number of rams killed a year is 18, and they're killed far more humanely than kosher, halal or most other (ie unclean) methods, of which several million in the US are killed each year.

Of course, gay rights activists jumped on this. Especially the ones who are with PETA.

I do so love the misinterpretation of science.



¹Here you go.

It Burns us, Precious.

It's little wonder that the Scots choose to make more fuss over Robert Burns than they do over their patron Saint, especially considering the only notable thing St. Andrew ever did was name a golf course after himself¹. But why the big fuss over Burns' Night? I've looked into this at quite great length² and what I found was that he seems to be some kind of hero of the people, viz:

"Rabbie Burns was just a common lad from the hills, like, he wrote poems about getting up in the morning and stuff. He wasn't writing flouncy poetry about flowers, he was writing because he worked on a cruddy farm and had to get up at 5am and it's bloody freezing."

My response of course was why didn't he move to England and get a proper job. However, because the Scots love him so much (and they have to find something to be happy about) I've compiled an alternative list of reasons to celebrate the birth of Rabbie Burns:

1. He wrote the following immortal lines:

I'd be mair vauntie o' my hap,
Douce hingin' owre my curple,
Than ony ermine ever lap,
Or proud imperial purple.

Now I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what any of this means, since I recognise about one word in five. But what is really, really amazing about this poem - the thing that makes it stand out amongst his others - is that he manages to find a rhyme for the world purple.

2. Burns' Supper. Even if you go solely for the purpose of having a wee dram. I have a very high opinion of a man who gets the phrase "entrails gushing" into a pre-dinner speech and gets away with it because it's cultural.

3. There was another Robert Burns who is notable for robbin' a liquor store and escaping from a chain gang. Now HE'S a man of the people.

4. While Address to a Haggis itself is some million stanzas long and extremely unpleasant to listen to (it's like the Welsh national anthem which you can only sing if you have laryngitis), it contains the incredible line "Great Cheiftan o' the puddin' race", the greatest thing you can ever say to a sheep's stomach stuffed with, let's be honest, all the other bits of the sheep.

5. He wrote some pretty famous stuff, quite a lot of which has been well and truly anglicised. I guess you're thinking these famous words;

The best laid plans of mice and men,
Oft go awry

Well, you'd be wrong. Actually what he wrote was;

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft agley

Which makes no sense at all!

6. For a while, "Scots wha hae" was considered to be the unofficial national anthem of Scotland. Now don't tell me that "wha hae" is a dialect phrase meaning "who have", it's so obvious that it was intended to sound like "Scots - Wahey!"

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1. Don't get me started on St. George, who never set foot in Britain and converted unbelievers by waving a dragon at them and saying "You guys feel like becoming Christians, right?".
2. By which I mean I asked my Scottish friend Johnny "Why do you like Burns' Night so much?"

What's in a name?

I know so little about American politics that it is laughable. But I definitely found it funny that Obama rhymes with Osama and his middle name is Hussein. I should not comment on this until I have read the relevant Wikipedia article, or sobered up. A wee dram on Burn's night is good for the soul.

Basically, we need another Mark Foley

Two interesting tidbits about Mr. Obama. The first is that Fox News - YOU DECIDE - keeps *accidentally* running "Obama" next to photos of Osama bin Laden and vice versa. Also, they're obsessed with using his middle name, Hussein. I like that the previous sentence has the same rhyme scheme as 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover. The second thing is why I don't want him to run. He's BECOMING a dream candidate, but he isn't there yet. 4 years of Senate experience doesn't make people immediately think president. He's a young guy; wait 4-8 years (depending), get a better resume, destroy the competition. As for Hill, I think that she'd be an incredible leader: emotionless, cutthroat, brilliant, and with the best side-kick available. All of these attributes lead me to believe that we'd have a great foreign policy president. Sadly, people hate Hillary Clinton. Americans hate strong women. We even hate teletubbies that are slightly sexually confused - just look at poor Tinky-Winky. Basically, we have serious gender issues. A female president will only emerge from the Republican side (an Elizabeth Dole, for instance) because plenty of Dems will vote to put a woman in power, but the only way most Republicans would vote female is if they had no other option. I've been praying for Mr. Gore, but that seems out of the question at this point. Then Vilsack dropped out of the field. I don't know. I like Bill Richardson, but who really knows at this point. The problem is always electability, and the best candidate - Clinton - seems likely to pull about 44-48%. Hopefully something will change that. Like a sex scandal.

'08ama

Oh, and because I can never remember how to link in the pure html form, then you get this as a reply to Nathan's blog.

Concerning Obama. He's actually a bit more popular with whites than blacks. You know what that means¹? That means he's reached Colin Powell², Oprah and Tiger Woods cross-race appeal. And that means voting for him helps to assuage the guilt of centuries of racism. Wonderful. Vote for a half-black once, and you prove to the world you're not racist.

Anyway, of all the Dems, I'm liking Richardson. He helps me feel better about having an illegal Hispanic worker.

Isn't diversity great?

¹ It doesn't actually mean this, but since it's coincidental, I'm going to do what the "new" media loves to do so much and shout causation when it's just correlation.
² Before he became SecState. That ruined him.

Okapi Crisis

Ok. I'm a bit late at this (not really, but it was sent to one of my gmail accounts I don't often check), but really... "Charlie; Illinois; joviality; is from the midwest; is really from the South"?

Firstly, I'm from the midwest. Or the Midlands. Not really the south. I lived in NC for 4 years, but I lived in Illinois (about 45 from where I now live) for 5 and Iowa (that good ol' caucus) for 3. And I lived in Leicester (or a small village) for 6 years. The South. That's just got my vote (technically, I'm still registered in NC).

Anyway, I don't really have anything to say, exceptin' for the fact that my picture that I really like and use for my MSN and my blog has disappeared from the tinternets. It's quite distressing. I've lost my okapi. Fortunately, it's on my computer. Crisis averted.

Non-males, non-whites, non-christians and other minorities

Since Afghanistan, it's become increasingly difficult to talk about the Special Relationship between the United K and S. It's now generally used with a sneer. I've heard it put thus: "The special relationship that Britain has with America is the relationship that a tree has with a dog".

Nonetheless, we do care about America and American politics, far more than most people realise. Average British Reader, I ask you: name two unsuccessful presidential candidates. Gore and Kerry, right? There you go. Now, let's talk about John Howard. Who? I'll give you a hint: he's been Prime Minister of Australia for five hundred years.

We might have learnt that you guys over there don't like to be told when we're scared, but at least some of us will still be following aught-eight closely.

Case in point: Hilary (woman) has decided to join the race, and she's on the cover of our newspapers- in point of fact, they're comparing her to Margeret Thatcher but it was the Telegraph so I don't think they meant to imply "heartless" or "senile". Hil Clinton is a pretty solid bet, but it's not because she's a Thatcher. She's an experienced politician, educated east-coaster, middle-of-the-road politically, and a skillfull opportunist. She offers what a lot of voters have been waiting for: a castrated Bill Clinton.

Admiral Roebuck: With all due respect, M, I think you don't have the balls for this job.
M: Maybe. But the advantage is, I don't have to think with them all the time.¹

Being the idealist that I am, I was cheering on Russ Feingold (Jew), but now that he's out and Gore (nerd) is still kind of depressed about 2000, my support² is now 100%³ behind Barack Obama (half-caste).

You know the sensation when you want to sneeze but can't? I've been sensing that sensation in discussions about Barack Obama. He's a contender for the Democrat nomination but without the money, name, or experience of Hilary. You're used to using the horse-racing metaphor for such campaigning. In that metaphor, Obama is the dark horse. There, I said it so that Carlos Mencia doesn't have to.

The problem, critics say, is that anyone who would vote for Obama is already going to vote Blue and he won't get any Red votes. Don't forget that great enemy of political idealism: pragmatism.

1). Astute readers will note that this is the second time I've used James Bond films to illustrate a discussion about gender roles, and therefore disregard anything I ever say again.
2). As I'm not an American citizen and therefore won't vote, my support is worth as much as the support of half of American voters.
3). Percentage determined by latest internet magics.

Consumerism takes a turn for the worse.

And you thought dog chocolates and pet shoes were a stupid idea. Anybody rushing out to get some of this?

The first good thing to happen in 2007

This excites me. Now when I post on your blogs, I get to include my r0Cks74Rz h4X0rz Ph070. Previously, 2007 in Boston was marked by the terrible increase in subway prices. I used to love that Boston had the cheapest/least efficient public transport in the country. After effectively tripling prices, we now have the most expensive/least efficient system. Kinda like democracy?

In other news, I just finished my bowl of Honey Toasted Oats (the generic version of Honey Nut Cheerios), only to make a horrifying discovery: lurking at the bottom of the Milk Sea, a hard, sugary orb was hiding - waiting. I'm not sure where it came from or what it was, but I couldn't chew it; curious, I swallowed it. This may be my last post. And that would be a shame - this blog is the first good thing to happen in 2007.

Can I do this?

A post on a communal blog that isn't about the fact that it's a communal blog?¹

Hug a Hoodie!

There have been days recently when the media have been so bereft of interesting stories that they have had fill pages with articles about people being kicked out of shopping centres for wearing hoods. I can't remember the exact words a particular octogenerian grandmother used to protest against being kicked out of a shop for wearing one, but it was something like "I'm not a thug - don't lug me together with those yobs!".

Evidently she'd rather one rule for us and one for them?

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1. Interesting fact: I once posted on a communal blog before except I was 15 and a horrible, stupid, grubby teenager with nothing interesting to say for myself. Needless to say, I'm not a teenager any more.

Mutual gratification

I heartily approve (except my picture doesn't work and I accidentally deleted it). Now not only can we come up with a collective name for ourselves (like the Notting Hill set, except with a bit less of a political agenda and no bicycle clips) but it also removes the need to continually post on each other's blogs.

Big up to Nathan for choosing the name by the way. If I'd done it, I'd have come up with an appalling cliche like "The Mansfield Five"¹.

As for the foliage photo - Nate, I'm dead inside. Thanks a lot.

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1. Leading to further blog-related hi-jinks that we could refer to in Enid Blyton style, viz: "Five have an adventure", "Five go to Nathan's house", "Five lose interest", "Five killed in freak skiing accident" etc. etc.

Hurray

Hurray! My first vision of this was going to put in pictures using conditional CSS. That plan hit a snag, namely that I don't know any CSS.

I spent most of my evening working on this, and it had got to the stage where I no longer cared about anything except getting it to work. "Alyssa's upset that I used the "hiding in foliage" photo? Charlie's mad because I dissed Dixie? The consensus opinion is that this team blog is a terrible idea that will destroy our friendship? I don't care, just tell me if it work yet." This attitude is how you spot a scientis/engineer.

Gee-ay-knee-us! Let the trans-atlantic posting begin!

Also, Genesis 11:1-9, if I'm not very much mistaken?

Mic check

I am playing with blogger to see if my dream of a team blog that looks cool is a fruitless one. I don't know how you got here, partner, but I'd try elsewhere. Um. Like my real blog.

One of the things I want to do is put an icon for the poster over on the right, there. I ain't neccesarily good at making them, but I figure it'll give us a little variety.

Introductions

Left to right:
Nathan is making an outrageous statement.
Alyssa is getting a scoop.
Peter is sticking it to the man.
Laura is thinking about Morrisey.
Charlie just Is.

Name; Current Whereabouts; Plus; Minus; shameful secret
Nathan; Leicestershire; Has a beard; no groove; crush on Princess Leia.
Alyssa; Oxford; Eloquent; rowing addiction; Once tried to shoot rapids in a skiff.
Peter; Massachusetts; Activist background and polisci education makes him a perfect candidate for government; Activist background and polisci education makes him unelectable; when travelling in Morocco, grew a beard so as to be less of a target of anti-american sentiment and thereby SHUNNED HIS COUNTRY.
Laura; Ontario; Hebrew; sums; not actually Jewish.
Charlie; Illinois; joviality; is from the midwest; is really from the South.

We also write Maxwell Edison, Majoring in Medicine, Trans-Atlantic Steel-Town Blues, Okapian Jackalopes, and The Bran Report. Fun fact: I totally spelled all of those correctly the first time around, because I'm not some kind of idiot.