Chain Bear Blog

Future is Meaningless

2012-02-20T12:19:00.000Z

I was in Vue the other night (this is a cinema chain in the UK, and probably other places) where, before the film, they give us a little advertorial trailer thing about themselves, describing their super HD screens and Dolby megablasters as 'the future of cinema'.

This got me thinking about the overuse of the word 'future' in advertising. I get it: technology has moved beyond what you're used to and is now so amazing that it feels like you're in the future. Everything you were promised is now a reality. This is the future and it's happening now. But actually, apart from being overused to the point of making it a meaningless, clichéd buzzword, 'future' is a strange intangible concept.

You can never have future technology. Future technology is like 'tomorrow' and even little orphan Annie knew that tomorrow was always out of reach. Sure, that's what she loved about it, but Annie feared the future. She was a realist. Anyway, you know what you can have? Present technology.

If you think about it, Present Technology is the most advanced technology you can get. Anything less is Past Technology. Think about it. Now that we have self-driving cars, people-driven cars are so totally in the past man. GOD. Self-driving cars aren't the future. They are the present. In the future, cars will drive people (after the automobile revolution of 2021).

Now, I'm not just being pedantic. It's probably a better advertising technique, too. If they say 'this phone is the Future of phones', you might think, 'well, one day I'll be able to get that phone and I'll be awesome, but I'm happy to stay in the present. If, however, they say 'this phone is the Present of phones,' you'll think , 'shit, my phone is stuck in the Past! I have to keep up!'

We live in the Present. I want to buy stuff that occupies the same temporal location as me. You have to bring the Future to me in the Present. You have to tell me that hoverphones (previously in the Future) are now available in the Present. Then I will get one.

The Invalid Angels

2012-02-16T13:08:00.001Z

You know what frustrates me? If you've been following my twitter you might assume the answer is "Apple computers". And you'd be right. But that's not what I'm talking about in this case.

I get over-whelmingly annoyed when a person or organisation has what I consider to be a good objective or, let's say, moral standpoint and then goes about achieving their ends in the most asinine, dishonest or ridiculous way.

Let's take PETA. PETA's goal, as far I understand it, is to convince the population to stop using animals for our own ends. Priorities are frivolities like using fur and ivory but they'd also want you to stop eating meat and cheese and a bunch of other stuff like riding horses, depending on how deep into their philosophy you go. I consider this a decent enough goal. I'm not a vegetarian, but I'm no fan of animal suffering and there are a number of studies that suggest an all-round reduction of meat-eating is beneficial for the environment. If this was as far as it went, I'd be happy to say, 'Yes, PETA, I think you've got a good thing going on.'

But, unfortunately, this is not where it ends. PETA don't want to convince me by having a decent argument and presenting evidence to the right bodies and working on a practical solution to move towards their goals. They just want to be loud and shouty and sexy. Their latest advert claims that turning to veganism will make you so veracious in the bedroom that you'll injure your partner. Not only does the evidence actually lean against this idea, but it's a pretty sick advert. And so are most of their adverts, which involve convincing sexy female celebrities to disrobe for their campaigns under taglines like 'I'd rather go nude than wear fur.' I lose a little respect for each of these celebrities when they appear in a PETA campaign. Basically, PETA's schtick is aggressive and sexual PR.

Good ideas (somewhat) in theory, but terrible implementation. I do not endorse PETA. They are idiots. They are also liars, but that's not the point of this blogpost.

I don't endorse protestors who smash shit up and are violent against the police. Those people are idiots and do not have my blessing. I understand that legitimate protests become entangled with mindless thugs, but from a hypothetical standpoint any act of aggression is going to send you right back to the start again.

I guess my point is, stop ruining everything. You'll never make any headway if you don't argue the right way. It may be slow and grate on your patience, but if you shout and scream like an imbecile, people will assume your entire position is imbecilic. It's a dreadful ad hominem, but no one care and the damage is so easily done.

How to Tell a Rape Joke

2012-02-09T17:15:00.001Z

With the UniLad saga starting to send out aftershocks following the initial twitterstorm, I am going to attempt to wade into into waters way beyond my depth and attempt the dangerous task of explaining how one might attempt to larf about horrific subjects.

I am of the belief that anything can be the subject of a joke. I don't tend to be the person to make these kind of jokes, as I don't trust myself with the material, but I believe it can be done. What I don't believe is that any joke is acceptable, just because it's a joke. Some jokes just deserve a slap*. A lot of the backlash against criticism of offensive joke material is that 'you can't joke about anything anymore' or 'people are too easily offended', etc etc. But maybe people don't understand how jokes or offence work any more. So rape, eh? Let's dive in with a point-by-point guideline for those who really do feel the need to make a rape joke:

1 - Rape is Offensive

Let's start with the obvious: rape is a horrific and terrible thing. It's sexual bullying, abusive and scarring both physically and mentally. It's about power and victimisation and is never ever acceptable. So if you're going to construct a joke about rape, understand that you will almost certainly offend some people, purely for making light of the subject at all.

Your joke will not be for everyone and you must understand this before you make your joke. As with any subject matter that crosses boundaries of taste and offence, actually make an effort to understand why these subjects are taboo and rarely to be toyed with. If you're going to 'go there', then have the decency to know what you're getting yourself into. Why do people find the subject offensive? Do you understand the subtleties of its contexts? Do you have a good knowledge of the statistics of rape and understand how most rapes occur and why?

Consider just how offensive your joke might be and then ask yourself: is the punchline worth a) upsetting people, b) the aggro that follows if you do end up offending a lot of people?

2 - Who is the Target of the Joke?

A lot of jokes, especially satirical/topical ones, poke at something or someone; they'll unsettle a subject matter or individual for a larf. Sometimes the subject of a joke becomes grossly mischaracterised in order to make the joke flow. A lot of the UniLad jokes relied on redefining women as game (the hunting kind, not the Scrabble™ kind) in order to make their jokes. In these cases, the women were the targets and the lads/pseudo-rapists were the protagonists.

This is getting a rape joke wrong.

In this case, the audience has to sympathise with the womaniser/rapist-character and in doing so they must implicitly condone his** behaviour. Most people should be uncomfortable with this. If people are uncomfortable with the positioning of the joke then they are less likely to find it funny and more likely to find it offensive.

There are a few ways around this:
a) Don't make the victim the butt of the joke.
b) If the joke teller is playing the part of the predator, they should make it clear that they are playing the antagonist and the joke should either be at their expense, or...
c) the joke should be so obviously ironic and satirical that the rapist's position as protagonist should be clearly absurd. In this case the butt of the joke is the horrific position of the protagonist. This is the most risky type of joke to make, so you'd better make damn sure you do it well as you can easily fall into being shitty and offensive.

The best rape joke should stick the boot squarely in the face of the rape apologist. They are the most mockable, stupid, nasty people in all of rape...ville.

3 - Who is Your Audience?

Let me make something very clear: if your joke/column/blog/forum is on the internet, the answer is everyone. Everyone is your audience. It doesn't matter who your intended audience is, if everyone can see it, then everyone is your audience. This is the equivalent of swearing down your mobile phone on a commuter train. No one cares that your intention was to swear only at your crack dealer - you're pissing off everyone on the train and they all hate you.

Now, my friends and I make all kinds of terrible and potentially offensive jokes in each other's company, in private. We can do this because we know each other well enough that we understand very clearly when a joke falls into category (c) above. Not only that, we're comfortable telling each other if a line of decency has been crossed. In a small group of friends, there is a very clear understanding about what is happening.

Expanding this: if you go and see Frankie Boyle, there should be an understanding that he's going to deliberately cross boundaries of decency because that is part of his schtick. There is an element to the fact that Frankie Boyle should know that his stand-up might well spread beyond his stage and should be aware of this, but just go with me on this.

Be aware of who will hear/read your joke and, you know, try not to offend if you can help it. That's just being an arsehole. So, while you not be doing a gig at an abused women's shelter, you'd do well to understand that not everyone will appreciate your humorous take on rape.

4 - After You Inevitably Offend

This is something you need to be thoroughly aware of and prepared for: if you're going to 'push the boundaries of comedy' (snort), then you probably will offend someone. Expect it. If you're surprised that a joke about rape caused people some discomfort then you're an idiot. Making light of rape is a very dodgy thing to do. And when I say to be prepared for criticism, I don't mean prepare a list of defensive rebuttals, I mean be prepared to listen to it.

Getting defensive and sticking your fingers in your ears to save your ego won't help you: it'll make you look like a massive dickhead. Instead, try listening to what they have to say. If you stay calm, you might get a decent discussion out of it and you can learn something about your subject material, about the boundaries of comedy and how to improve your material and delivery. You might not agree with everything they have to say about you or your joke, but that does not devalue what they have to say. There are reasons behind people's offense and they are important to hear.

And remember: apologising is not a sign of weakness; it's a sign of strength. If you're going to play around at the edge of common decency, you're probably going to fall off once in a while. Accepting that you got it wrong is fine. Just say, 'I was wrong', apologise and move on in the knowledge that you've become better through making mistakes and understanding how you went wrong.

And I'm going to say it again, because it's important. Is the punchline really worth the effort? It better be a bloody good rape joke, is all I'm saying.

*metaphorical.
** or her, technically, yes.

Fighting my own Prejudices

2012-02-09T12:01:00.003Z

I've been meaning to get these thoughts down for a while, but have hesitated because it's a personal thing that I feel quite guilty about. My problem is that there are certain things to which my brain seems pre-programmed to take the opposite stance to my own beliefs and ideals.

I'm just going to say this straight. I tend to take men more seriously than I take women. And I mean that in an 'initial mental processing' sort of way. It's a terrible thing and I hate it and I have to be aware of this at all times to make sure I consciously check my own thought processes to balance out this bias. And I do. I work hard to make sure I evaluate what everyone says on their own merits, and I work extra hard because I know I can't trust my unconscious mental processing.

Here's another thing I'm struggling with: non-binary gender language and constructs. I have a friend who considers and presently emself* neither as male or female. Those reading this who are unfamiliar with transgender issues might not know that to treat a transgender person with the all the wrong gender language can be very hurtful, to say the least. Check out Trans Media Watch if you want to know more about this. Anyway, this particular person has a biologically female-sexed body (I'm not even sure if I'm wording this right, tell me if I'm not) and my mind struggles massively not to categorise em as such. I know one day, I'm going to refer to em as 'she' by accident and accidentally cause offense, but I can't seem to get it into the unconscious part of my brain. Hopefully, one day.

A further thing, that I think is common among most people is what I'll call an Argument from Idolatry. If you like someone or an organisation, are a fan or fervent supporter, it's so easy to bias your opinions towards them when there is an argument or discussion about something. I guess it's a case of love-tinted glasses. When I'm trying to form an opinion or weight in on a topic of discussion in which my 'idol' has taken a side, I find it so easy to and along to their opinion before stopping myself and studying both sides. I've managed to get to a stage now where I try not to form an opinion immediately if there's a conflict on the internet; instead I'll just wait a little while and see what's being discussed. In doing so, I've found that - on certain topics - I've disagreed with people who I think are generally awesome and mostly right: Phil Plait, Richard Dawkins and PZ Myers to name a few.

Anyway, the point of this blog post (I think), is the importance of being aware of our biases, our privileges and our perspectives. I'm not proud of the fact that the hardwiring of my brain is a bit sexist and harbours a few prejudices, but that's kind of how brains work: they make connections and shortcuts to allow you to think fast and draw up conclusions easily. Knowing this gives me the power to think a little harder, more consciously, and to overcome this in-built deficiency. And hopefully, it makes me less of a douche.

*gender neutral pronoun. construct by using the 3rd person plural and removing the 'th'. Conjugate verbs as you would for he/she/it.

No Anger Here

2012-02-02T20:39:00.002Z

I'm happy to point out where I think things/people/organisations have gone wrong - sometimes hideously wrong, to the point of causing an entire subset of people to suffer for it - my strong sense of atheism and egalitarianism makes this a daily occurrence. But what I don't do is get angry about it.

It sometimes feels like a strange state to be in, as the arguments from both sides of the kinds of discussions I'm interested in tend to be pretty gosh darn angry. The Unilad fiasco, which I watched from the sidelines (partly because I didn't have the energy to pitch in and partly because the whole thing was so blindingly obvious, I didn't have anything interesting to add) was a particularly angry affair. Feminists (and, to be fair, most decent human beings) were boiling at the contempt shown for women by the lad-culture website, while the lads were pissed at the feminists butting into their rape-joke party. This is a pretty obvious example of such a conflict, but you'll see similar things throughout politics, religious debate, science vs the sciencephobic, etc; people will get pretty angry about the consequences and attitudes of the other side.

Now, I'm not going to say anger is unjustified. A lot of these debates can centre around issues that can have devastating effects on real people; we're talking potentially life-ruining events in a lot of cases (depending on the topic). To feel angry about the parents being misled about vaccines, for example, is completely unsurprising and justified.

However, I don't really get angry. And I'm quite glad for that. There are two reasons I don't get angry: the first is that it's not really a natural reaction for me. I don't get visceral rises of emotion, in any direction, really. I accept facts and evidence and process them quite slowly, chewing over them for a while. This makes me terrible at verbal debates, because every time I'm presented with new facts I like to think about them for a little while before coming to conclusions. This brings me to my second reason for not getting angry: anger clouds your judgement. When you're emotionally charged, your entire being centres around your current position of thought and closes down all other avenues. It's very, very hard for someone to change your mind when you're angry and being charged by that ferocity makes you very defensive. I think the important thing to always bear in mind is that you may not be completely right. You may not be completely wrong, but it's very likely that a reasonable position lies somewhere between where you are and where your opponent sits.

Being angry isn't helpful in the context of rational debate. It's a hindrance to an open mind. Getting to a rational position can be a slow and considered process and that requires being cool and patient. This goes for personal arguments too. If you're in a face-to-face disagreement with someone and it ends up being nothing but a heated argument that goes nowhere, it's best to step back from it. I know the frustration of that verbal sparring and the whole things ends up about winning the battle and not about finding a truth - and the truth is the basis for the argument in the first place. When two people disagree it's because they see something differently so, while you're trying to convince them of your perspective, remember they are trying to convince you of theirs and so, together, you are trying to understand some objective truth to the matter at hand. Arguments should be about reaching an understanding, not winning a battle.

Compare and Contrast

2012-01-28T15:02:00.001Z

Here is a juxtaposition of two pages from The Sun.

The Body Book

2012-01-07T13:16:00.002Z

If you were my age then there is a chance you may have seen one of the best young children's educational books of the time. Lots of my friends reminisce fondly about The Body Book.

When helping my dad clear out a pile of junk 30 years deep in our our garage, I found this lying somewhere near the bottom and my heart leapt. I had to take it home to share it with the world and remind those of you who may remember it from your own childhood.

The Body Book is for young children: probably 6 - 10 years. It's a comprehensive, friendly but no-nonsense guide to the ins-and-out of the human body.

Every process in the body is explained in terms or the organs and body parts involved. It uses simple language, but does not condescend to its young audience - it's not afraid to go into detail about the slightly more complex actions inside the organs, like explaining what happens when you hear your stomach rumbling or how germs make you ill and what the body does to fight back.

It also breaks down the structure of the body into bones, muscles and skin in an attempt to explain how we move and stand and function, starting with the lovely opening, "Skeletons aren't scary. There is one inside you."

"Why do you have bones? (...) If you didn't have bones, you'd be as floppy as a jelly. Why do you have so many? So you can move about. If you had one big bone ... you'd be as stiff as a scarecrow."

It's just wonderfully readable and yet incredibly informative. It made the body easy to understand and gave me, as a young child, a confidence in its weirdness and a happiness in my understanding.

But it didn't just cover the biological make-up of your body. It covered emotional responses, too.

The "Thinking and Feeling" chapter explains how the brain is responsible for controlling your body - how simple actions such as taking off a shoe involves communication between the brain and the body parts that need to do the action. It explores how we emotionally respond to things and how that is all a natural phenomenon by running the young reader through an imaginary scenario where their mother disappears, but it turns out they only popped next door. It's clever.

It's not afraid to delve into evolutionary theory if it ever needs to explain the strange things the body does:

A lot of people remember The Body Book from the naked people. The book isn't afraid to show naked people changing through puberty to adulthood and detail all the changes they can expect to go through. It may have been through this book that I first understood the female body, I'm not sure.

And it doesn't stop with naked bodies - it dives right into sex as well, explaining cell-division, sperms and eggs and exactly how those sperms and eggs get together in the first place.

It's a little strange how it called a penis a "penis" but a vagina a "baby-making hole". I'm sure a lot of women will see it as a little more than that. Maybe that explains why I've never found a word for vagina I've felt happy with. OK, so the book isn't perfect. I hope little girls didn't grow up thinking of themselves as baby factories.

Lastly, it explains death. Yes, "Nobody lasts forever", it explains before leading us through the process of slowing down and dying.

It explains funerals and grieving and even explains how bodies become a part of the earth once more. It ends on a positive note, explaining how we learn from our parents and grandparents and pass on that knowledge to our children and grandchildren so, through knowledge, people live on. Which is nice.

I love The Body Book. It's great. Apart from the 'baby-making hole' it never tries to pigeon-hole people into "husbands" and "wives" and doesn't bring spirituality or God into it. The book is from 1978 so maybe it wasn't ready to tackle the spectra of sexuality and gender identity so maybe that's what's due now.

The east Asian girl in the ginger family is never explained.

LG Launch Google TV, Misspell "Google"

2012-01-06T10:04:00.001Z

I can be a bit of a grammar pedant sometimes; typos and stuff leap out at me, begging me to save them. I say this knowing full well how many typos this blog contains, by the way. Spotting your own typos is another matter entirely.

Anyway, I found this article about a new Google TV being launched by LG and the very first thing that leapt out at me? Look at this image:

This is one of LG's official mock-up images of their wonder-TV. You see the word "Google" right there under the Bookmarks section? No, you don't. You see the word "Goolge".

Perhaps they couldn't bear to have the letters L and G adjacent to one another without them spelling "LG"?

The Aversion of Labels

2012-01-02T12:45:00.001Z

There are a couple of labels that I've noticed a lot of people are averse to stamping themselves with, despite the fact that if you expressed the label as a description of its philosophy, they would most likely agree with that. These labels are ones that I wear wholeheartedly and they are:

Atheist
Feminist

Atheism

I think atheism is the more cut and dried of the two, purely because its definition is so simple. I've banged on about it before, but I'll quickly run over it again. If you don't believe in God, you are an atheist. You are only not ~~a God~~ an atheist if you positively hold the belief that a God exists. You don't have to have a position of certainly, you don't even have to have a position at all. You aren't making a statement about how you feel about religion, whether you are part of a religious culture or that you feel confident in evolution, the Big Bang or any other scientific explanation. Whatever your position on anything, if you don't believe in a god then you are an atheist. The word says no more about you.

In a way, cats and rocks and woodlice are atheists too, because they (as far as we're aware) don't believe in God either. They've probably never even considered the idea. Until you are introduced to the idea of God, you can't believe in it.

As you may know, I'm anti-theistic, anti-religious and pro-secularism but this is in addition to my atheism. I could be an atheist and love religion and love the idea of God and wish I believed in him if only I could be convinced. Being an atheist doesn't make you akin to a Dawkins or a Hitchens, or even a cat. I think this is the problem with the label - people are worried to be associated with the vocal proponents of atheism. I know a lot of atheists (most of my close friends) who really don't like Richard Dawkins, but they are still happy to call themselves atheist. In fact, most of them don't give a crap about the debate on religion and probably find my constant banging on about it on Facebook and Twitter utterly boring. But we're all atheists.

Feminism

Feminism is a little more nuanced because it's a positive position and not a response to a claim, as atheism is. I can't go around calling people and things 'feminist' without having a decent understanding of their position on gender and society.

In it's most basic form, feminism is the belief that men and women should have equal opportunities in society, life, education, healthcare, politics, etc, etc. Unless there's a very good reason to discriminate (an bad example would be 'being allowed to go topless'. A lot of women don't agree with not being allowed to go topless where a man would, but in this instance there is at least a tangible difference from which to work an opinion) then one should treat a woman as one would a man and vice versa.

An equivalent expression to 'feminist' (in a different area) is 'not racist'. Being not racist means you don't allow the differences in people's ethnicities to judge/treat them differently, and so it is with feminism and gender.

In a way, feminism is a bit of a bad word because it sounds like it's pro-women when, in a more accurate sense, it's pro-equality. More men would realise they were feminists, if they understood this. Hell, I've had women tell me they aren't feminists, but I'm pretty sure none of them would want their rights taken away from them or be turned down for jobs because they were competing with a male applicant.

Once again, like the Dawkins example previously, I think feminism is sold on its loudest proponents. The controversial quotes make the papers, the 'over the top', 'PC gone mad' hyperbole are reported. The bra burners and the 'man haters' are the very symbol of feminism to those who don't really understand it, so many people - including women - back away from the association.

The Point?

At the end of the day, labels are labels and the important things to consider are the philosophies. Do you believe there is a God? Do you think men and women should be treated equally? Maybe it's not super important that everyone agrees on a label if everyone can agree on answers to the questions.

But then again, a label brings people together. It's an umbrella that we huddle under, under which we unite, under which we can turn to one another and realise we are the same and believe in the same things. David Silverman brought up the point at Skepticon 2011 that we wanted people to recognise themselves as atheist. The people who labelled themselves humanists, secularists, freethinkers, brights, etc were all atheists (NB. This isn't strictly true, but it was mostly true. The atheist circle would gobble most of those groups up on a Venn diagram). They were segregating themselves and making themselves weaker.

I think feminism in particular would find a lot more people cheerfully labelling themselves as such if they recognised that they too were feminists all along. The labels do mean something, but they aren't loaded with anything bad. Be proud of your belief.

EDIT:
The great Satah has pointed me to the following two articles by s.e smith which are interesting and important takes on why people reject "feminism".
Why I'm Leaving Feminism on Meloukhia
I'm Not a Feminist and I Wish People Would Stop Trying to Convince Me Otherwise on xoJane

Both articles are quite "movement" based and I'm still thinking about them and will probably respond if I think of something worth saying.

Second Christmas in Many Media

2011-12-28T23:45:00.000Z

Second Christmas is the highlight of the festive season. I have been close friends with much the same people for over ten years and every year between Christmas Day and New Year's we get together for our own Second Christmas, cooking up a huge roast, playing games and swapping Secret Santa gifts. There are also a ridiculous amount of empty Port bottles by the end of the evening.

This year, I documented the occasion in six different media:

1) Photography

2) Drawing

This is about as accurate as it gets

3) Mime

4) Poetry

Twas two days after Christmas,

And all through the Castle,

There were nibbed for all,

And Joe ate them, the rascal.

Mulled wine on the hob,

And far more Port than sense,

We were pissed before turkey,

The sprouts were immense.

As we sat down to dinner,

And pulled all our crackers,

'Thank you, dear chefs!'

Came the cry from the slackers.

We all gathered round,

For presents from "Santa",

The secrets came out,

In the midst of the banter.

In the dark early morning,

We said our farewells,

But we'll be back next year,

To jingle those bells.

(S. Taylor, C. Jayasinghe, G. Robinson, B. Jones, et al)

5) Song

The Second Christmas Song - Luke Alexander, Stuart Taylor, Ben Jones

6) The Movie

(Make it HD and fullscreen that bad boy)

Second Christmas 2011 from Stuart Taylor on Vimeo.

Christmas

2011-12-25T00:17:00.001Z

I've recently just realised something about Christmas for me.

When I was younger, almost every year we used to go to my Nana's (Dad's mum) house for Christmas. Even though my Dad's side of the family is far more disparate, small and estranged than my Mum's, there was always enough of us to gather around her big table every year. The people might be different every year but there was always a big feast.

My Nana had a decent sized house in Beckenham - we even lived with her for a couple of years - so a whole mix of extended family folk could gather comfortably to eat, relax and watch christmas episodes of every single soap opera. The meals were always huge at Nana's. It was like suppertime at Hogwarts, with dishes stacked beyond their physical limits, more potatoes than Ireland could devour in a year and gravy to drown the Titanic. The only christmas photos I remember from my young childhood were in Nana's living room, with decorations across the walls and ceiling, fake snow on the windows and a great many faces I haven't seen in years.

Nana died when I was 16. We had one final Christmas in her house without her before moving on. And Christmas hasn't really been the same since. I'm not saying it's been bad - it's still a lovely day of being together, giving gifts, eating stupid amounts of food, playing games and snoozing on the sofa. But Nana defined Christmas. To me, that's what Christmas was, and since then it's always felt like...an imitation of Christmas.

Maybe it's like when your dog dies and you get a new dog. You love the new dog just as much, but it's a different dog and whenever you picture the concept of dog ownership, that first dog will always stick in your mind, because he was your childhood dog. He gave you the very concept of "dog". I think because Nana died right at the point of me transition from child to adult, that cemented her Christmas as the canonical Christmas in my mind.

So here's to you, Nana. I'll always think of you at Christmas.

Eugene Delgaudio's Secrets

2011-12-19T20:54:00.000Z

Someone stuck me on Eugene Delgaudio's mailing list, and he keeps me up to date with his terror about the radical homosexual lobby. His latest fear is that he won't raise as much as he budgeted for and the Homosexual Lobby will find out. So, go ahead, you radical homosexuals - look at this:

Dear Stuart,

Just weeks remain before Public Advocate reaches a critical deadline -- before every radical homosexual activist holds a copy of Public Advocate’s financial records in his conniving hands.

December 31st is the deadline for contributions to appear on the IRS 990, the public report that discloses exactly how much money Public Advocate raised and spent in 2011.

But right now, our figures are falling short of my 2011 objectives.

If I’m to meet budget expectations this year, I must raise $46,359.17 with all checks postmarked before December 31st.

If I fail to raise $46,359.17 by December 31st, I’ll be forced to broadcast our weakness and vulnerability to the Homosexual Lobby.

After the brutal fights this year on the Gay Bill of Special Rights, the repeal of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), and the Homosexual Classrooms Act, the Homosexual Lobby must not find Public Advocate with little money left to fight next year.

Stuart, don’t worry, no one in the Homosexual Lobby will ever know how much you’ve contributed to Public Advocate. I assure you your personal information is fully protected and kept confidential.

The radical Homosexual Lobby will be looking for ANY sign of weakness in the pro-family movement -- believe me, they haven’t given up -- if they see Public Advocate’s treasury depleted they will see an opening to ram through the Gay Bill of Special Rights, the Homosexual Classrooms Act and the repeal of DOMA.

Words cannot express how much I appreciate your noble sacrifice, Stuart.

Without your financial support and prayers, Public Advocate would be nothing -- totally helpless against the radical homosexuals’ assaults on our families.

Stuart, you have done so much for our cause. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Today, I’m asking you to dig even deeper. I hope to count on you for at least $50 -- $100 or even $200 if you can afford it.

X Factor Final: A Content Analysis

2011-12-14T18:56:00.001Z

So, on Sunday we had the final ~~episode~~ show of X Factor 2011. Lauren and I have taken to Sky+ing the show (this is like TiVO) and watching it an hour behind live so that we can fast forward through the gumpf. But how much gumpf can there really be in one episode of the X Factor? If you looked at Twitter between 19:30 and 21:30 on Sunday, you'd see a sea of people screaming, 'Oh god how long can this go on for?' and 'Just tell us who won! JESUS CHRIST!'

So I took the liberty of analysing the 2 hours and 3 seconds of SyCo ejaculate that might make you realise that Simon Cowell and ITV are taking us all for a ride.

The two hour show represented as a clock. Imagine the show starts at the 12 o' clock position and travels around the clock face until it ends.

So, the naive me might think that the whole point of watching the X Factor is to watch the contestants perform and to find out the winner, right? Some people enjoy watching the judges opine, but as this was the final, they all just spout hysterical love for everyone - the bitchy comments are long gone.

Well, if you wanted to see the contestants perform you got a total of 19m31s of singing in your two hours. And that includes the winner's song, which is just a repeat of what they sang earlier in the show. That's one sixth of the show. So what do they do with the other 5/6 (83%) of the show?

Well, you might have enjoyed the other performances from Westlife, Coldplay and the pre-recorded compilation for all the finalists that opened the show. I say, 'might', because I didn't enjoy it very much, but this does count as the programme attempting to put on a show for its audience, so I'm not going to snootily sniff at it. Anyway, that's another 16 minutes (13%) of entertainment so there was still a lot of show to fill. Can you guess what else took up our precious time?

Yes! Adverts! A whopping half an hour (or a quarter of the show time) was taken up by adverts. The biggest break we got from adverts was in the third quarter of the programme when both acts performed the winner's single and had to see their highlights and Olly and Caroline pissed about with their 'fans' in the audience. So basically, in the biggest amount of time free from adverts they treated us to the same song twice, a clip reel of stuff we'd already seen and two idiots trying to shout over a crowd of locals who'd baked Little Mix into a pizza. YES.

So, in total, the performances took up the most of the show - as it should be. But almost half the show was taken up by Dermot telling us what we'd just seen/what we were about to see, video clips of things we'd already seen, the judges (who I suspect were drunk) telling everyone how brilliant they are, and Caroline and Olly.

So let's break it down a different way:

If we separate out the contestants performances from the other performances, we'll obviously get 'adverts' as the biggest player of the night. So what I did was strip out all the necessary parts of the show that are required to keep the flow between the performances and the judges' comments. So, this includes Dermot's links between actual stuff happening, telling us the phone numbers, introing the acts by means of intense montage and announcing the results. Those are the required parts of the show (and I'm being generous. I don't think anyone benefited from the judges on Sunday).

This leaves the gumpf, or the 'padding'. The stuff they threw in to make up the time. There was twenty minutes of padding - more gumpf than singing. Olly Murs and Caroline Flack were padding; the VTs of the contestants family telling them they were awesome was padding - partly because they see their friends and family enough not to need a VT of them saying generic Canderel but also because Olly and Caroline are standing with the families constantly asking them how proud they are.

By the way, I included the live link to Philip Schofield talking about Text Santa. It was an advert. It was an advert masquerading as... god only know what.

So the lesson here is - always tape the X Factor and fast-forward through all the gumpf. Take that, Cowell. I've proven your show has too much rusk and not enough sausage.

The Way I'm Feeling

2011-12-09T11:53:00.001Z

So I have depression. I was diagnosed with it back in the spring, but I think it was creeping up on me for at least a year before that. I often find talking about it (verbally) a frustratingly difficult thing to do, so I thought I'd knock out a few written words to help people understand a little bit about what goes on inside me. I guess this is mainly for people close to me than the wider world, though if you're reading this and find yourself comforted by empathy, that's good too.

To me, the main overriding 'feeling' isn't sadness particularly, but a kind of emotional exhaustion. Everything that requires me to care or that I'd need to classify as 'important' just batters me into submission almost immediately. Applying for jobs, talking to people on the phone, having a conversation about 'my plans for the future' (etc, etc) are all things that I struggle to do for any significant length of time without needing to give up and do something mindless or sleep.

I feel a lot like I'm at the bottom of a deep, steep-sided pit. At the opening of the pit is where I need to get to where I have a job, where I can socialise a bit more easily instead of staying in the comfort of my home, where I can talk about things I need to talk about, and so on. But the sides are so steep and so slippery that every effort I put in is so immediately exhausting and futile that actually it's more comfortable to stay at the bottom of the pit and not bother to do anything. The very thought of tackling the climb out of the pit fills me with dread. I just don't feel like I have the skills to get out.

So eventually, caring out getting out of the pit and developing the parts of my life you once enjoyed just kind of went away. I feel very little emotion at the moment about almost anything. When I care about things, it comes from a logical place; you'll see me posting stuff about gay rights, for example, because it makes sense to have equality not because I get emotionally angry or upset about it. Emotionally flatlining has its good and bad sides. Sometimes it's nice to know you're approaching situations without the often misleading emotional fire in your belly. But other times when I don't feel happy to see people, or sad when they get sick or empathise if they are upset, it makes me realises the massive disconnect between everyone else and me. A chasm has opened up where once I used to be able to feel another person's feelings, now I just observe them. This is a strange realisation to come to.

And so from the frustration of the "slippery-slope" to climb and the disconnection from the people around me comes the ease of suicidal thoughts. I'm going to try and be as honest about this as possible. Again, this isn't a sort of 'raging' suicidal thought - it's not something that happens in the heat of emotion or despair or anxiety. Instead, it seems to come from logical conclusion: I can't get out of this pit, I don't really feel much for what's going around me, so what's the point? That's the kind of thought process my head goes through. Unfortunately ("unfortunately"), just because I don't feel that connected with other people, I know this doesn't mean they aren't connected to me. If I went and offed myself, that has consequences. I understand this, and that's part of the reason I went to seek out help when such thoughts started to overwhelm me.

So I haven't really made huge amounts of progress since my diagnosis other than the fact that family and friends are now aware of my depression so I'm going through it alone. Nonetheless, because I hate talking about it, I tend to carry the load myself and worry other people because I won't really talk about how I'm feeling. So here it is, for those who care. I hope it's helped understanding if anyone wanted to know. I still feel pretty flat and rubbish most of the time. Sometimes I won't want to come out. Sometimes I won't have applied to jobs or done things I should have done because for some reason I found them extraordinarily difficult. But, I'm going to try and get better.

Why Do I Call Myself a Man?

2011-11-29T21:00:00.001Z

I call myself a man - a male adult.

Most of you probably won't be surprised by this. The only reason I bring it up is that, in the last year or two, I've been able to give more thought to gender and sexuality and - through the wonder of the internet - have been able to connect with people across the personhood spectrum. The vast majority of people tent to cluster around certain 'types' of person and so we are able to form categories of people: man, woman, homosexual, heterosexual (or androsexual and gynosexual, if you prefer), etc. Categories are a very human way of looking at the world and this corresponds to the way our brain works to deal with sensory and stored information.

However, lots and lots (and lots) of people don't neatly fit into these categories and most of these people might identify as being trans or genderqueer (I'm going to try and use language carefully here, because I'm still something of an ignorant cis person), which is kind of a catch-all bracket for people who don't find they fit into the neat boxes we already have to label people with. Either that or they feel their bodies and their identity don't correlate in a way that I guess we might consider 'typical'.

Anyway, all this is just a prelude to a blogpost all about me. Sort of. See, after all of my explorations - surface scratches, really - I found myself asking why it is that I call myself a 'man'. The obvious answer is that I've already been pre-ordained with such a category and I just went along with it. Perhaps the slightly more obvious answer is that I have a penis and that I'm over 18, but considering many people with penises wouldn't consider themselves 'men', that reason half goes out the window.

There are people who are born into a particular gender (bodily) and ultimately find a disagreement between their own personal gender identity and the gender that biology would tend to classify their bodies. Some people might feel they are women, but happen to find themselves within a male body, others might feel they don't fit into the binary gender classification. Whatever the case, there is something these people feel within themselves that gives them an inherent sense of gender identity and I tried to consider my own gender identity as a person who's never actually consider themselves 'misplaced'.

And I couldn't really find one. I wasn't sure what it was about me that I considered male. I mean, it's useful to be able to refer to myself in ways that everyone can easily understand - that's a benefit of cisgender...ism, but in terms of actually finding a reason to think, 'yes, I am male', I couldn't think of one. I mean, I have my genitals, but really we can forget those. Spend five minutes engaged with the transgender community and you'll soon realise that genitals can be largely irrelevant. What else then? Well, I fancy ladies, but then so does Ellen DeGeneres and she doesn't consider herself a man. That's a ludicrous reason to determine your gender. Do I go with the traditional traits of masculinity? No - and for two reasons: firstly, I don't agree that strength, valour, chivalry, domination (or whatever) maketh a man and secondly, I don't actually possess most 'manly virtues'. I'm kind of a meek, gentle, ponderous type who muses about beauty and art and shit. I don't care much for sports or beer or wolf-whistling or bringing home the bacon (all of which are ridiculous things to associate with men, anyway, as women are just as likely to do any of these things).

I wouldn't even necessarily say that I "felt" like a man, either. Not in my bones or nuthin'. I find I get on a lot easier with women, for what ever reason. But then, I wouldn't say I felt like a woman either. Perhaps I feel gender-neutral? I don't feel particularly strongly about that, though.

I guess what I'm saying is that gender doesn't particularly have any affect on my identity. Or it could just be that being a cisgendered, white, male-bodied, heterosexual, middle-class, well-educated western person has meant that I'm lucky enough not to be bothered by such things. All my cards came up trumps, so why would I care?

A corollary from this is the very question I'm kind of asking to the aether: if you are transgendered, what is it that makes you feel that way? How does gender enter into your identity, while simultaneously I would argue that very little separates men from women non-bodily (the whole essence of gender equality)?

I guess this is just a post from ignorance and naivety, but I'm a-ramblin'

Chocolate Makes You Thin

2011-10-06T17:38:00.000+01:00

I picked up my local paper today to find this headline across the front page:

What's this, I thought, some kind of miracle that has bypassed the mainstream media, the science journals and even Femail to make it all the way to the Bromley News Shopper?

Oh.

Amanda Knox: Supplementary Questions

2011-10-04T13:16:00.003+01:00

So Amanda Knox had been found not-guilty of the murder of another woman. We know her nickname was Foxy Knoxy and that she enjoyed her sexual freedom. But, before you fancy yourself worthy to comment on any of this, see if you can answer these questions (without cheating):

1) What is the name of the murder victim?
2) Give me one more fact about the murder victim, not related to her appearance.
3) Who else was found guilty of a part in the murder?
4) What was the name of the other person found not guilty of the murder in the same hearing as Knox?
5) Where did the name "Foxy Knoxy" come from?
6) What are the details of the murder, other than "sex"?

And, if you feel happy you've passed that particular set of questions, try these:

1) If you were a murder suspect, how would you like to be treated by public commentary?
2) If a member of your family was a murder suspect, what would you consider to be an indecent and inappropriate manner for people who don't know them to talk about them?
3) If a member of your family was murdered, how would you like the case to be discussed in public?

Just have a little think about that.

A Matter of Importance

2011-09-15T00:52:00.001+01:00

Whenever I get struck by something - dazzled, intrigued, memorised or entranced - I often find myself juxtaposing it against its utter universal insignificance .
I write this on a train, where a few minutes ago,a woman walked past. I thought she was awesome, because she has a shock of purple hair across her fringe, glowing from the black, like magic. I watched her from the side of my eye as she walked down the aisle past me. I felt compelled to watch, as if she'd disappear if I looked away.
But at the same, I get a floods of thoughts about the massiveness of the universe and the nothing of time that the girl with the purple shock of hair spent in my vision compared to the magnificent age of the universe, measured in the life and death of stars and galaxies. I think about how the woman is one of billions of life forms come and gone and the quintillion chance interactions that caused her and I to cross paths.
This woman with purple hair is a nothing, an insignificance. But I loved it. She had awesome hair.

A Real Life Maths Puzzle

2011-09-08T13:29:00.000+01:00

Here's a challenge to any of you up to it. It's a Puzzle, but it's an actual real one, in my actual house.

My house is a townhouse, and it has three floors.
There is a hall on each floor with a light in it.
Each hall also has a three-switch array that controls all the hall lights: { BOTTOM, MIDDLE, TOP}
At the moment, all the lights are OFF.
The current position of the switches is this:

TOP FLOOR: { 1 , 1 , 1 }
MID FLOOR: { 1 , 0 , 0 }
BOT FLOOR: { 0 , 1 , 1 }

Still with me?

OK, what I want is for all the switches to be set such that 0 = off and 1 = on.

Is this possible? How do you do it?

How to Write an X-Factor Script

2011-08-27T22:12:00.000+01:00

X-Factor is into its 27th year, or something, and one thing remains the same: ~~everything~~ the stupid voiceover script that talks us through each episode. Be it Dermot Oh Lordy or Kate Blondegirl (or even that guy who does American Idol), they all recite the same, bland, fill-in-the-blanks dross.

It goes something like this:

This week the X Factor arrives in [CITY] where the public have been queuing for [TIME PERIOD], eagre to show the judges their [word meaning TALENT/SKILL]

This year the competition is [SUPERLATIVE] than ever

[AGE] year old [CONTESTANT] lives in [TOWN] with [HIS/HER] [SINGLE PARENT]. [HE/SHE] always dreamed of being a singer, but at the age of [AGE] tragedy struck. [DESCRIBE TRAGEDY]. Now, [HE/SHE] comes to the X Factor to get [HIS/HER] dream back on track.

After [x] hours of auditions, the [EMOTION] is starting to show with [JUDGE]. (Cue montage of [JUDGE] showing [EMOTION])

We're half way through our time in [CITY] and the judges are frustrated at the [BADJECTIVE] auditions so far. Will [NEXT CONTESTANT]finally prove that [CITY] has the X Factor

The sun sets on [CITY] and the judges reflect on the day's auditions (Cue montage of judge's talking about [ONE SPECIAL CONTESTANT] from the back seat of their limos)

[CONTESTANT] has turned up at [VENUE] with one thing on his mind: impressing [JUDGE THAT HE/SHE IDOLISES] (Cue clip of [CONTESTANT] saying, 'I really want to impress [JUDGE]... [CREEPY SENTIMENT ABOUT JUDGE].

Among the auditionees, is [CONTESTANT]. But [CONTESTANT] has more on her mind than the judges. (Cue contestant talking about her [AILMENT] [FAMILY MEMBER])

The day is almost over in [CITY] and only one contestant remains. [AGE] year old, [CONTESTANT]. (Contestant is either amazing or on the verge of a mental breakdown)

The Courier: Newspaper for Ex-Pats

2011-08-13T19:29:00.000+01:00

While Tabloid Watch and co (1, 2, 3, 4,etc) have done a sensational job of keeping their analytical eyes on the UK press, they haven't perhaps had the chance I have of visiting an English-run villa in Spain.

I've just come back from a holiday with friends in Alicante, and happened to find a newspaper in the magazine rack called The Courier. It was 4 months out of date, but I found it far to irresistible to ignore. It's a newspaper for English folk who have abandoned Blightly for the sunnier sands of Spain. An Ex-Pat newspaper, if you will. You know Ex-Pats? They are the ones who comment on Daily Mail articles to complain about how Britain has gone to shit because we have to separate our recycling and we can't belt our kids any more*.

The Courier is an interesting paper. It has the feel of a local paper, like the News Shopper but the flavour of the Mail or Express.

For example: The front page (above) has decided to focus on two 'outrage'/'blunder' stories. The main story - an "exculsive" (snort!) - tells the story of a English couple who were accidentally charged thousands of pounds to their water bill when an underground pipe burst. You'll notice the classic sad-people-holding-object-related-to-the-story which is a tabloid staple.

Running down the left hand side, you'll notice a dig at UK parking prices and how things are so much better in Alicante. Until you get your water bill, of course.

The rest of the paper is a fairly light read, keeping you abreast with all the news that you'll want to bitch and gossip about to your neighbours over your sun-baked villa walls. It appears to have less sub-editors than the Daily Express, mind:

It does, however, have a couple of things you won't find in your standard Mail or Sun style UK rag. One of these things is media analysis:

You'll notice they've taken a slightly different approach to editorialising the UK papers than, say, The Guardian. They've employed Donna Gee, the 'Grumpy Old Gran' to give her take on the state of the media. Ms Gee hasn't just been pulled out of the old folks' home - she has experience in the Express, Mirror and Star. According to her byline, she 'now plans to solve all the world's problems via The Courier', which is nice.

I'm not entirely sure if the cascade of newspapers above her article are meant to be reflective of her career or if they represent the 'gutter press' she refers to in her article. If so, she appears to be turning on her own paper!

The other item that might take a UK newspaper reader by surprise is a full-blown apology. A proper apology, not a clarification of a 'suggestion' or a 'misleading phrasing', a full out sorry. In big bold letters:

Not only that, but it's an absolutely hilarious apology (with some premature capitalisation for good measure):

"In an article in last week's issue we referrer to the image of Jesus Christ being discovered in a puddle of vomit in Benidorm UNDER THE HEADER, THE FATHER, THE SON & THE HOLY VOMIT. However, following several complaints we now realise that an error of judgement was made by our hopeless editor, Dave Bull, and the article should not have been printed. The Courier apologises to all those offended by the article which was meant to be funny as part of the April fool's Day fun but, unfortunately, it was one that went to far. We hope that readers will continue to enjoy The Courier's 'different' take on life and continue to keep an eye on us so that we can bring you the best newspaper in the region... most of the time.

An excellent apology, I think. Genuinely regretful and apologetic, names the responsible party, explains itself and uses a tone appropriate to the error. Fun.

So, what can I say about The Courier. In the single issue I saw I thought it was a better version of The Sun or The Mail. Ranty and moany, but sedated and self-aware. Also, it's in a different country, which helps.

*Yes, I know all ex-patriots aren't like that. I'm sorry, ex-patriots; I'm being facetious.

The Power of the Rant

2011-08-02T13:20:00.002+01:00

I recently had to consider the nature of the rant. I'd linked to a particularly sharp-toothed attack on the politically and socially ultra-conservative part of America, framed in a 'North vs South' rhetorical narrative. I was called out for promoting the type of language and rhetoric that leads to denigration of people from the southern states as a whole. While that is a good point, and one I hadn't considered at the time (and I definitely am against attacks on (e.g.) all Muslims for the position of Muslim extremists), I actually want to focus on the idea of the 'rant' itself as a device.

I actually really like rants. Not to write, or speak - I certainly don't have the raw emotional potency for that - but I really enjoy reading or hearing a wonderfully worded rant. For me, part of it is therapeutic. I'm not one to vent my emotions much, so having someone do it for me really can work a treat.

For a rant to work, it has to be eloquent. A page and a half of "Fffffuuuucccck off and die" won't do it for me, though I know some people enjoy that raw bitterness. Not me: that's not a true rant; that's profanity (which can be fine). I need rants to have a structure, a purpose, a reason, some character and to be convincing. I want to know why you're so angry and I want to be convinced or I'll just call you a raving pisspot, or something. I'm not good with insults.

Goodness gracious, I haven't even defined a rant yet. I assumed you'd all know what I meant, but for the purposes of this blabber: a rant is an argumentative essay, using the rhetoric of anger and/or insult to characterise its prose and make its points. Its tone and hostility may vary, but the idea is the same. It's offensive, in the sense that it's an attacking piece of debate, as opposed to a calm and balanced analysis.

I tend to prefer writing in that balanced, analytical style. I normally have a point to make and a side to take, certainly, but I'm not one to go all out on the offensive. But a rant is a massively powerful tool. For one, they are more interesting to the observer. Someone completely losing their rag over something is very entertaining and often hilarious, even if the subject matter is very serious: and this is, of course, the point. You want to suck people in; you want to persuade people to see your way of thinking by demonstrating the sheer emotional impact this issue has had on you. If something has caused the author to blow their top, then surely it's an issue worthy of your investigation, right?

The Daily Mail knows the power of the rant all too well. Its entire arsenal of columnists are essentially all rant artists, to varying degrees. The Mail (and most other papers, to be fair) use this technique for three main reasons: 1) it makes for an entertaining reading, so people will keep buying the paper; 2) it bolsters the opinions of its audience so it can keep covering topics like, say, immigration, because it's already formed an army of anti-immigrationists; 3) flame-baiting. Flame-baiting is the art of ranting to such a degree that you start sucking in your opposition, who can't help but flock to rubber-neck at the utter car crash of bile and spittle that has ranted across their website. The anti-tabloid folk have cottoned on to this and invented istyosty.com - a proxy server one can use to avoid reading tabloid rants directly and contributing to their hits.

So aware are the Mail aware of the power of a rant, that they recently moved to bully Kevin Arscott into removing a post he made against its editor, Paul Dacre. Mr Ascott, of Angry Mob (which is a lot less angry than the name suggests) was so incensed by the paper's behaviour that he wrote a long (and fairly out of character) rant about how Paul Dacre must die and how we would queue for miles to use his grave as a loo, to put it lightly. The Mail threatened his web hosts and now the article doesn't exist (but you can probably find it. The internet doesn't forget).

With the power of the rant, of course, comes a great responsibility (has a comic book ever again said anything so profound?). The melody of an offensive argument carries like the tune of the pied piper, with followers dancing to the oomph of the emotion, too caught up to stop and ask questions or check for evidence. The wave of support for classic ranters like Melanie Phillips, Glenn Beck and Bill O'Reilly, - people who are clearly so far removed from reality that you wonder how they get dressed in the morning - shows how a rant just isn't enough. It's a weapon. Like a gun: when used correctly, anyone can make headway, cause damage and lead armies with it. In a sense, it is neither good not bad outside of any context. But it is dangerous.

That's why I'd say, for goodness sake, if you're going to have a bloody good rant as part of your argument you'd better make sure that you've backed up that rant with facts and evidence. You'd better be sure that you know what you're talking about because you are wielding a powerful and persuasive weapon. And on top of that: be aware of your audience. Websites like Annotated Rant, have excellent, well-cited arguments in a terrifically bitter and furious style. But, my god, they tend to cast their net wide. With Fuck the South, they make very good points about the political problems in the American south, but unless you're aware that they are using the term 'South' as a metaphor, it can cause a lot of problems. You probably wouldn't get rants titled "Fuck Muslims", for example, because you wouldn't want to accidentally incite hatred towards all Muslims from people who don't pick up on your subtlety.

In conclusion: I love to read rants, I think they are a valuable and powerful tool, but when used carelessly they can be dangerous, so take care if you fancy having a public rant.

The word rant has lost all meaning, by the way.

PS: If you want to watch some world-class ranting, search for Matt Dillahunty on youtube. He is monumental at off-the-cuff, brilliantly reasoned takedowns.

July Newspaper Front Pages - Complete Cloud

2011-07-31T22:53:00.008+01:00

While we're here, I thought I'd add the word cloud for all front pages words for all newspapers covered*:

Murdoch and Hacking were the order of business, with the Norway killer and Amy Winehouse's last week domination showing some strength (click to enlarge)

So now we see that the UK papers found to be the most important topics of the month of July.

*words excluded: {"free", "inside"}

- don't forget, the raw data is available for free download by clicking here

UK Front Pages Analysis - July 2011

2011-07-31T10:12:00.001+01:00

I'm going to try something new and "exciting" - this month. I've been gathering data from all the front pages of the UK papers. I type up all the words from the front pages that I can clearly read when the front page image is about 230 pixels wide. I also include any main image captions, as the picture is also a big part of the front page punch.

The idea is to get a feel for the character of each paper and how it focusses its coverage, based on how it shouts at its audience. I will try and do this at the end of every month and see what each paper focussed on and found most imperative to sell to its audience.

I will try and build on my analysis over the coming months, but to start with I decided to create some word clouds using the software at worditout.com. In case you are unaware, a word cloud builds an image from the most common words used in a store of text; the more common the word, the larger the word appears. I'm going to show these clouds below the fold, as they will take up some space:

Why I Can Stand Jeremy Clarkson

2011-07-28T09:30:00.001+01:00

I like Jeremy Clarkson. Sort of.

It's a tricky thing to justify, as he's part of the right-wing hysterical journalists and media types that will bark up any tree that looks remotely like it might be pulped to produce the Guardian. Much like the likes of Littlejohn, Platell, Phillips, Fawkes et al, Clarkson enjoys smugly vomiting out whatever reactionary opinion his pancreas squeezes into his brain. Like the others, he has his pet peeves that he barks on about in an endless cycles (in particular, he hates traffic safety devices and climate change prevention) without ever reviewing evidence contrary to his own immalleable opinion.

But, gosh, I just can't despise him in the way I do the others. I think part of it is that I enjoy Top Gear and don't want to spend the entire time scowling and swearing at "Jezza" the whole hour long. Whenever Clarkson says something stupid or sexist, yes, my wife and I look at each other and shake our heads in disapproval. We're not ignorant of his dickheadedness, not by a long shot. The way he treated Olympic Champion, Amy Williams, was detestable (frankly, she should have slapped him).

But... when mouthing off, I really don't think he takes himself seriously. He operates under the character of 'Jeremy Clarkson, moron' in the same way that Warren Mitchell worked the avatar of 'Alf Garnett, furious bigot'. Whether he uses the character as a comforting shield from which to assert his own opinions, or whether the character's opinions are entirely artificial and used for flamebait - I don't know. Either way, his potency as a force for hypnotising his audience are greatly reduced, compared to someone who takes themselves very seriously, like Bill O'Reilly, who still has a massive following despite twice saying no one knows how the sun goes up and down every day. Clarkson is a clown. He knows he's a clown and he plays up to it. Hopefully the rest of his audience know he's a clown, too.

He delivers his hyperbole with a cheekiness and a swagger deliberately engineered to make his audience chuckle and facepalm and to manufacture a faux-argument between the co-hosts who often call him a 'completely idiot' and a mindless petrol-head. His co-hosts on Top Gear operate similarly, behind the character of grinning-hyperactive-teenager and comely-Warburton-eating-uncle, neither of which you'd trust to even recommend a car to you.

And Clarkson isn't always wrong: he's a big advocate of science and engineering, for example. He once punched Piers Morgan. He's not all bad. Yes, he suffers from the syndrome that a lot of columnist have which I have called I'm-not-an-expert-but-I've-been-spouting-my-opinion-for-so-long-I-must-be-right Syndrome. The name needs work, I'll admit.

A simple Google search for "Jeremy Clarkson column" leads you quickly to this column, which begins:

Call me a spoilsport but I’m glad my dad wasn’t a lesbian

When it comes to sweeping generalisations, I am the daddy. All Germans have no sense of humour, all instruction manuals are pointless, all cruise ships are ghastly, every single American is fat, all golfers are boring and all Peugeots are driven by people you wouldn’t have round for dinner

I really don't think he expects anyone to take him seriously. At least I hope he doesn't.

Oh god, what if he does?