Little Man, What Now?

Happy St George's Day

2009-04-23T14:34:00.000+01:00

Against Torture and Against Torturers

2009-04-21T11:10:00.006+01:00

Waterboarding is torture. This is undeniable. If you have tortured, you have given up part of your humanity. You have blackened your soul.

If you have sanctioned, condoned or encouraged torture you are a torturer by proxy.

You have given up any right to claim you are a representative or defender of any of the following concepts:

The West
Western civilisation
Freedom
Liberty
Democracy
The rule of law
Due process
The free society
The open society

As flawed as many of these concepts are, you are an implacable ememy of the grains of truth and goodness that they contain.

I do not claim that torture is not effective. To do so would be foolish. The torturers need only show one example where it has yielded a positive result and this utilitarian argument against torture is destroyed.

I ask instead what is the greater aim of effective torture? What is the torturer hoping to defend by the successful extraction of information?

By definition, he cannot hope to defend any of the concepts listed above. He cannot do this because, at the moment he officially sanctions or commits torture, his society no longer subscribes to any of these concepts.

His country is no longer part of "the West" or Western civilisation.
His country is no longer free or open.
His country is no longer a democracy.
His country no longer subscribes to due process or the rule of law.

Given this, what is left for the torturer to defend?

Apple Shop Sketch

2009-04-16T12:54:00.003+01:00

From Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle. Starts off as a Two Ronnies parody/tribute and then degenerates into hilarious insanity. Give Paul Putner and Kevin Eldon their own show I say.

Libertarian Socialism

2009-04-05T17:41:00.004+01:00

“Socialism, to me, is about achieving egalitarian ends according to the belief that we all know the best of which humans are capable. It does not prescribe the means, however—it’s simply a value-laden opinion on that towards which we’re striving. This is why I believe stateless societies and genuinely free markets will be the means to get us there: these are the kinds of decentralized systems that allow societies to find the best solutions for its constituents. Socialism and libertarianism, to me, are not incongruous; socialism is (one aspect of) the ends, libertarianism is the means.”
— Jeremy Weiland.

Prince Philip: International Statesman

2009-04-01T20:51:00.004+01:00

How I laughed...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7977618.stm

Wait for it (action starts around 0:50)

Chomsky the libertarian

2009-03-18T13:26:00.001Z

via Social Memory Complex

Watchmen

2009-03-07T11:54:00.002Z

I'm off to see Watchmen shortly. The good news is that the studio responsible for the movie has already commissioned a spin-off Saturday morning kids cartoon:

Are such things done on Albion’s shore?

2009-02-28T10:57:00.003Z

Are such things done on Albion’s shore?
By Philip Pullman

(Orignally published in the Times, but then removed from Times Online. Republished without permission.)

The image of this nation that haunts me most powerfully is that of the sleeping giant Albion in William Blake’s prophetic books. Sleep, profound and inveterate slumber: that is the condition of Britain today.

We do not know what is happening to us. In the world outside, great events take place, great figures move and act, great matters unfold, and this nation of Albion murmurs and stirs while malevolent voices whisper in the darkness - the voices of the new laws that are silently strangling the old freedoms the nation still dreams it enjoys.

We are so fast asleep that we don’t know who we are any more. Are we English? Scottish? Welsh? British? More than one of them? One but not another? Are we a Christian nation - after all we have an Established Church - or are we something post-Christian? Are we a secular state? Are we a multifaith state? Are we anything we can all agree on and feel proud of?

The new laws whisper:

You don’t know who you are

You’re mistaken about yourself

We know better than you do what you consist of, what labels apply to you, which facts about you are important and which are worthless

We do not believe you can be trusted to know these things, so we shall know them for you

And if we take against you, we shall remove from your possession the only proof we shall allow to be recognised

The sleeping nation dreams it has the freedom to speak its mind. It fantasises about making tyrants cringe with the bluff bold vigour of its ancient right to express its opinions in the street. This is what the new laws say about that:

Expressing an opinion is a dangerous activity

Whatever your opinions are, we don’t want to hear them

So if you threaten us or our friends with your opinions we shall treat you like the rabble you are

And we do not want to hear you arguing about it

So hold your tongue and forget about protesting

What we want from you is acquiescence

The nation dreams it is a democratic state where the laws were made by freely elected representatives who were answerable to the people. It used to be such a nation once, it dreams, so it must be that nation still. It is a sweet dream.

You are not to be trusted with laws

So we shall put ourselves out of your reach

We shall put ourselves beyond your amendment or abolition

You do not need to argue about any changes we make, or to debate them, or to send your representatives to vote against them

You do not need to hold us to account

You think you will get what you want from an inquiry?

Who do you think you are?

What sort of fools do you think we are?

The nation’s dreams are troubled, sometimes; dim rumours reach our sleeping ears, rumours that all is not well in the administration of justice; but an ancient spell murmurs through our somnolence, and we remember that the courts are bound to seek the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and we turn over and sleep soundly again.

And the new laws whisper:

We do not want to hear you talking about truth

Truth is a friend of yours, not a friend of ours

We have a better friend called hearsay, who is a witness we can always rely on

We do not want to hear you talking about innocence

Innocent means guilty of things not yet done

We do not want to hear you talking about the right to silence

You need to be told what silence means: it means guilt

We do not want to hear you talking about justice

Justice is whatever we want to do to you

And nothing else

Are we conscious of being watched, as we sleep? Are we aware of an ever-open eye at the corner of every street, of a watching presence in the very keyboards we type our messages on? The new laws don’t mind if we are. They don’t think we care about it.

We want to watch you day and night

We think you are abject enough to feel safe when we watch you

We can see you have lost all sense of what is proper to a free people

We can see you have abandoned modesty

Some of our friends have seen to that

They have arranged for you to find modesty contemptible

In a thousand ways they have led you to think that whoever does not want to be watched must have something shameful to hide

We want you to feel that solitude is frightening and unnatural

We want you to feel that being watched is the natural state of things

One of the pleasant fantasies that consoles us in our sleep is that we are a sovereign nation, and safe within our borders. This is what the new laws say about that:

We know who our friends are

And when our friends want to have words with one of you

We shall make it easy for them to take you away to a country where you will learn that you have more fingernails than you need

It will be no use bleating that you know of no offence you have committed under British law

It is for us to know what your offence is

Angering our friends is an offence

It is inconceivable to me that a waking nation in the full consciousness of its freedom would have allowed its government to pass such laws as the Protection from Harassment Act (1997), the Crime and Disorder Act (1998), the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (2000), the Terrorism Act (2000), the Criminal Justice and Police Act (2001), the Anti-Terrorism, Crime and Security Act (2001), the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Extension Act (2002), the Criminal Justice Act (2003), the Extradition Act (2003), the Anti-Social Behaviour Act (2003), the Domestic Violence, Crime and Victims Act (2004), the Civil Contingencies Act (2004), the Prevention of Terrorism Act (2005), the Inquiries Act (2005), the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act (2005), not to mention a host of pending legislation such as the Identity Cards Bill, the Coroners and Justice Bill, and the Legislative and Regulatory Reform Bill.

Inconceivable.

And those laws say:

Sleep, you stinking cowards

Sweating as you dream of rights and freedoms

Freedom is too hard for you

We shall decide what freedom is

Sleep, you vermin

Sleep, you scum.

South East London in the Snow

2009-02-02T13:53:00.005Z

Click to enlarge all photos.

Wasn't very green today!

Eltham Palace

Pooter's cat: "Little Cat, What Now?"

Odd One Out

2009-01-31T09:20:00.003Z

Good news for TV viewers and British wildlife, bad news for his North London neighbours: the Oddie menace will be spending more time at home.

This is a clear victory for this publication and its random campaign of irrational hatred aimed at a minor televison celebrity.

Watch it Titchmarsh, you are next.

Payments for Failure

2009-01-30T12:15:00.004Z

The UK's Commuications Minister, Lord Carter of Barnes, has proposed that there should be a £20 per year broadband tax. He suggests that the revenue from this tax should pay for the upkeep of a quango who will act as enforcers for the music and film industries. The quango will act as a clearing house for infomation, coerced from UK internet service providers, about "illegal" downloaders.

The proposal is the latest attempt by the corporate state to prop up the failed business models of the traditional content monopolists. If the Governement takes up the proposal, as they almost certainly will, it will be a heavy barrage in what amounts to a war against the internet using public.

We should not fall for any rhetoric regarding creators' rights or so-called "intellectual property". This is about maintaining the ill-gotten profits of huge media corporations at the expense of our freedom and privacy.

A rather inane post

2009-01-27T11:44:00.001Z

I, Edwin Hesselthwite, haven't posted anything on this illustrious journal in fucking ages...

Today, I'd like to contribute this:

Because.

Richard Blake News

2009-01-24T11:15:00.004Z

The Terror of Constantinople, the second historical thriller from promising author Richard Blake, will be available very soon. His first book, Conspiracies of Rome, is also out now in paperback.

Here's my review of the hardcover edition of Conspiracies from June 2008:

Conspiracies of Rome by Richard Blake
Review by Charles Pooter

Conspiracies of Rome is the debut novel of author Richard Blake. A historical thriller set in 609 AD, the book follows the adventures of Aelric, a lowly Saxon clerk, and his master Maximin the priest. Aelric is of noble extraction but has been deprived of his birthright by the local warlord and Maximin is a missionary priest from the Italian city of Ravenna who, with the help of Aelric and some Paul Daniels style trickery, has a knack for converting the local pagans to the Faith. On the run from the aforementioned warlord, the two head for Rome where they encounter murder and intrigue, all of which seems connected with the mysterious Column of Phocas.
The Rome of the 7th Century is no longer the glorious monument to Republic or Empire. It has gone well past decadent or decaying and is now decayed. The city is a nest of thieves, murderers and underground cults where the rump of the ancient aristocracy enjoy the remainder of their money in a wine-induced stupor. Power is divided between the local civil authorities, the Church and the distant Emporer. It is in this fascinating setting that the majority of the novel's action takes place.

Like all good historical novels, this book is didactic as well as entertaining. Obviously we get an insight into the geo-politics of the period as well as the tensions between the various civil and religious authorities, but besides this we get an education in such diverse subjects as book-binding and stock trading. I know more about futures markets now than I did before I read Conspiracies. It comes as no great surprise to learn from the dust jacket that Mr Blake is a lecturer as he imparts knowledge through the tale with enthusiasm and ease. But I wouldn't for a second want to suggest that this book is a staid, educational tome. It is in turns foul-mouthed, saucy and violent. Fans of literary sword-play and street fights will not be disappointed and the "anglo-saxon" makes it one to keep off a younger relative's Christmas list.

With the sad departure of George Macdonald Fraser, the time is ripe for a new author able to combine swashbuckling adventure, a cynical view of elites and their self-serving institutions, detailed historical research and—besides all this—an overrideing optimism about mankind. It is too early to tell if Blake will be the new Fraser, but Aelric certainly has the potential to be the new Flashman. In many ways Aelric is more interesting than Flashman: better educated, more canny and with a moral sense that more readily overrides his self-interest . This is not to say Aelric is a completely likeable hero: he is a sexual libertine (one who sleeps with people for personal gain), a ready profiteer and a willing killer. But I for one look forward to reading more tales of his shagging, fighting and looting - albeit as I learn something new about the Dark Ages at the same time.

Labour MP writes controversial truth in newspaper...

2009-01-14T12:42:00.003Z

...Armageddon must truly be upon us.

You know you are old when...

2009-01-03T21:57:00.001Z

...Doctor Who is younger than you.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T15:36:00.005Z

"I am the Spirit of Journal's Past!" exclaimed the ghastly apparition.

The old miser, Charles Pooter, felt a chill run down his spine as the spectre delivered his chilling monologue. Pooter's knuckles turned white as he gripped the blanket, holding it to his chin, as if to shield himself from the ghost.

"I see that you recognise my countenance, Sir," continued the wraith, "and so you should! When I inhabited mortal flesh, I was known as Adam Hawks. Yes, yes, you know my name! I founded the wretched publication into which you occasionally pour your puerile rantings."

As the spirit spoke, he gesticulated. As Hawks moved his translucent arms, Pooter could see that the Hawks was encumbered with many heavy chains. Attached to the chains were the writing instruments of Hawks' period: the quills, pots of ink and reams of roughly-hewn paper that made up the life of Georgian and Victorian writers. Pooter even noticed a few early fountain pens amongst the assorted objects which weighed heavy on the dead wordsmith.

"Ah, I see you have noticed my chains, Pooter! Yes, this is my burden. My punishment for a writer's greatest sin in life: procrastination. Every time I let a potential idea die, without committing it to the page, another chain was added. When you die the same will be true, except your chains will be far heavier. They will be weighed down with the many computational machines with which you have failed to write anything of note in your miserable life."

As Pooter, realising the obvious seasonal pastiche that was to played out, allowed his fear to turn to boredom. The spirit continued.

"In this limbo that I inhabit I must work off my debt. My purgatory is to write down every idea that I allowed to die when I was on Earth. The nostrum that 'to publish is to be damned' is exactly arse about busom, Sir! To allow a new idea to die - no matter how half-formed, no matter how trivial - not to publish, that is truly to be damned!"

Pooter reclaimed his wits and spoke.

"I beseech you spirit! Do not damn me. I have a full-time job and many other commitments (mostly the job though). The journal which you founded has degenerated into a so-called 'blog': the lowest type of publication. I genuinely do not have the time to write the posts that I would like to write. Besides which, as the world turns to shit, it seems petty and ridiculous to churn out short articles on my own very particular political obsessions and whatever stupid facets of popular culture have recently attracted my increasingly-jaded attentions."

The spirit considered Pooter's pleas and gave his reply.

"Mercy is not mine to give Pooter. You must turn over a new leaf. You and all your fellow writers must revive the journal that I started. You must, between you, publish at least three articles a week throughout the next year, or you will all be damned. Damned, I say, damned!"

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year to all our readers. Peace on Earth, Goodwill to all Men.

Doctor WTF

2008-11-05T17:20:00.001Z

Eyes on the Stars reports on some interesting speculation about who fill David Tennant's shoes to become the 11th Doctor Who.

Change

2008-11-05T09:33:00.003Z

It is the official policy of this publication to maintain a "wait and see" policy concerning newly-elected statesmen. With this in mind, we wish the 44th President of the United States of America well and hope that his campaign for "change" means a return to the principles that made his country a beacon to the world in previous generations.

Flame of the day

2008-11-04T13:22:00.002Z

A profound comment left on the excellent Linux Haters Blog:

Anonymous said...
ur head u hopeless
u mad man
monkey donkey
dog's tail
everything bad in this world is the author of this post
don't u have any work or job

JULY 2, 2008 2:55 AM

Fighting the Oddie Menace

2008-11-02T11:55:00.004Z

The man's arrogance increases every month:

We've seen this before. From Napoleon to Adolf, the short-man complex has wreaked misery across the European continent. There are those misguided individuals, the appeasers, who think we can contain him. They say this isn't our problem, that he will be content when he has the BBC in his grasp, that he will not yearn to conquer further territory. History has shown repeatedly that these isolationists are wrong. He cannot be reasoned with and he will not stop. We must fight him now before he becomes too strong:

A Public Apology

2008-10-24T11:55:00.004+01:00

As a result of my long term close relationship with the The Little Man trustees and The Hawks Estate, I have been drafted in to comment on the recent decline in standards at this august publication.

In his recent post, John Carpenter's They Live, a Truly Prescient Documentary, contributor Edwin Hesselthwite made the serious error of judgement in using the expression “Joe Sixpack”, this term which has been recently brought to saturation coverage in the wider media by a Ms S Palin had noticeably lowered the tone of his recent post, bringing LMWN into disrepute...

We would like to apologise to our faithful readership, and make it clear that Mr Hesselthwite has been firmly disciplined.

John Carpenter's They Live, a Truly Prescient Documentary

2008-10-21T09:26:00.024+01:00

“The Golden Rule: he who has the gold, makes the rules.” Frank, played by Keith David in They Live.

For the last month the patient (the world economy) has lain haemorraging on the table, pissing fountains of arterial blood into the eyes of the world's economic surgeons. Over this period there have been a slow drip of media “I told you so”s from aging, suprisingly coherent, leftist ideologues. From former Labour party leader Michael Foot (now 95), to legendary historian Eric Hobsbawm (now 91) lazy editors across the land have tried to bulk-up their pages with the false dichotomy between a 20th century style left and capitalism (whatever that means). It's a little disingenous, since there is far more to intellectuals like Hobsbawm than the "more unions, and Thatcher was Satan's own personal spawn" quote the BBC's Today Programme so desperately wanted from him, but this is after all everything I hate about the BBC. Nonetheless, in this spirit of “We were right” I present you with a dumb movie I really love: John Carpenter's They Live.

If I'm honest, I'll admit that Carpenter is my favourite film-maker. I might spit out names like Roman Polanski and Alan J. Pakula to fellow film geeks, but a searing synth score by Carpenter is all that's needed to give me that Sunday night feeling. I've seen 16 of his 20-odd movies. From the brooding claustrophobic tension of The Thing to the stripped down violent purity of Assault On Precinct 13 Carpenter is arguably the most sophisticated figure to make trash SF movies, and his films bear enough of his individual stamp (he typically scripts, directs and scores them) to deserve the title Auteur.

They Live is the last great film of his prolific 1974-1988 period. Made in the immediate aftermath of the 1987 stock market crash referred to as Black Monday, this is a very blunt satire of Reaganite America. The plot, if you can call it that, is that the world economy has gone to shit (as it just had in '88) and that the Joe Sixpacks of America have been forced to become modern day Okies — itinerant hoboes hunting for construction work on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Desperate to earn a living our hero, John Nada (played by wrestler Rowdy Roddy Piper), finds himself in a homeless encampment that appears to be linked to some anti-government conspiracy. Following some stock police brutality (let's get the coppers to beat up the aging, blind, black, priest... That's edgy!), Nada comes upon a pair of sunglasses that allow him to see the world as it really is... The bankers, the politicians, the businessmen are all aliens that have taken control of the world! The rich are a parasite race! It's time to kick some ass!

Never one for subtlty Carpenter lays this films politics on heavily, with subliminal messages hiding under every billboard and television advert... Dollars bear the legend "this is your god", advertising posters say "consume and obey" or "marry and reproduce". They Live (made on a tiny $3 million budget) lacks the polish of his Halloween or The Fog, and is somewhat deprived in cast (the closest thing to a star is Keith David, who's main claim to fame was his roles in other Carpenter movies, Roddy Piper is clearly trying to channel Kurt Russell's character in such films) but Carpenter has always been a master of making thrillers on the last gas fumes in the tank. The secret to this film's success is simple: cutting in at 88 minutes, They Live doesn't give you time to question it. And across that short running time it has enough juicy moments of raw fun to keep the most jaded moviegoer entertained.

So, as the world media runs into the arms of the old left for a soundbite and an apologetic cuddle, we at Little Man, What Now? would like to say: WE KNEW! David Shayler and David Icke were right all along, those bankers, Lehman brothers, all those sons of bitches... We've been saying this since we published extracts from George Shanks's translation of the Protocols! They're lizards, alien fucking lizards!

Click here to see the film's legendary fight scene intercut with South Park's hommage to it.

Final Countdown

2008-10-17T19:02:00.004+01:00

This gave me a Friday feeling:

Via B3ta.

Adventures in a LittleBigPlanet

2008-10-13T08:57:00.009+01:00

I recently found myself fortunate enough to obtain a beta key for the upcoming PS3 game LittleBig Planet, and I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's one of the games out there that doesn't just hand you a gun and say "That way".

In it's most basic sense, the game is about the adventure of your character, or Sackboy/girl in the world of LittleBigPlanet - a mirror of the earth, created from the dreams and collective creative energy of all humanity. They have painted a very fluffy, plushy, soft feel to this world, and the impact is an immediate sense of endearment - it helps that your character is also immensely cute.

Speaking of the characters, they should be investigated further. You are introduced to your Sack-person (Stop snickering, you at the back.) from the outset, and you know right away that this is a game that is really something very different. Buttons on your control pad, which would in normal games be associated with weapons changes, firing guns, and other wholesome activities, are suddenly revealed to allow you to take control of your characters arms. Whilst this may not seem particularly special, once you play with it for a few minutes, you wonder how you coped without this ever before. When you are in multiplayer, you can point to important things, anywhere in the level, simply by holding down a button and moving one of the analogue sticks. Another fantastic and fun feature (I may be using that statement a lot on this post.) is the ability to control the emotional state of your Avatar. You can make him happy, sad, scared, or angry - there are 3 degrees of each emotion and they change your characters facial expression and hand gestures - another little work of genius. As a final note, if you're online and you have a headset on and working, your character will attempt to lip-sync with what you are saying. Brilliant!

So, once you've gotten to grips with your character, you are then presented with your first levels of the game. These are all standard platformy game fare. They are great fun, well thought out, and serve as a perfect introduction to the game mechanics, and limitations of the world. After a few of these, you get given some of the basic tools of the game, and then informed that you are allowed to create content for this world. Levels of your own can be built, saved, published and shared with the whole world. Whatever you are capable of creating can be given to the sum total of content in the LittleBigPlanet sphere.

My first adventure out into this sphere, as an explorer but not a creator, yielded some very interesting results. Some people had made rocket powered cars, roller coaster rides, obstacle courses, pirate ship adventures, zeppelins. It had everything. My curiosity piqued by these seemingly amazing feats of creation practically forced me to pick up the level creator.

I was never very good with level creators. There seemed to be an awful lot of x,y,z co-ordinates and texture selection. When I went through the first tutorial on LittleBigPlanet, I was introduced to the world creation toolset in what I could only describe as an informal and friendly manner. More like "Hey, thanks for coming, here's something that's quite cool." instead of "Look at the power that can be summoned from our mighty toolset! Fear our ability, bow down before us!" Straight away, I found that it was actually quite easy to create simple objects, and lay these out in the manner for a level of platformy based fun.

Before I knew it, I was being introduced to some of the more dynamic aspects of creation. moving parts, pistons, pulleys, rods, switches, buttons. But, at no point was it overwhelming. Stephen Fry was always available for a quick tutorial on the various devices (he provides all the narrative for the game, in a very similar manner to his work in Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy.) and how they can be applied to the world. In a short while, I was familiar with this toolset, and it was down to me on what I could create on the blank canvas of world in front of me.

So, I made a cannon, that fires explosives, with a movable turret. A friend of mine was over at the weekend, and he made a tank. We then made a catapult that was very good at hurling little sack-people very large distances. We then added a fire-pit for them to land in, because we're nice people. I actually found myself questioning why I was doing this. Given all the possibilities to create things that are good and fun and nice, I instead opted to make things that went boom, in one way or another.

The obvious answer was that it was fun. Fun, to create these things, with good intentions of making them devices in some sort of grand level which could be published and gifted to the world to enjoy. Only, the level never got built, and the cannon got bigger.

Before I was able to perfect the catapult, or to actually build the little world for all my wonderful toys to go in, the beta ended. So, I now find myself in a position where I will actually purchase a game, not only to play, or create, but to atone - for bringing tools of destruction to a fluffy universe.

To summarise this game would take far more than I have written above. It has the ability to present whatever you can imagine to the rest of the world, as you would like it to be presented. It is always going to have new content, which will be free to play, generated by people, and usually lots of fun.

I believe that this game can, and will sell PS3's on its merits. Kids will love it because it's cute and fluffy - anyone with an imagination will love it because of the vast and simple toolset, which allows you to run riot with the world.

You have to decide what you bring to the universe of LittleBigPlanet however, and that could be both it's greatest achievement, and it's biggest flaw.

There's more in that than most people think.

It allows us see inside our own hearts.

A little man in a LittleBigPlanet

Quote of the day

2008-10-10T02:15:00.002+01:00

It's like being constantly told that you have a terrible disease. Only there aren't any symptoms. And if it weren't for that grim Scottish doctor who keeps peering in your ear and muttering “doom, doom”, you'd be convinced that you were absolutely fine.

What do I know, but everything seems ok in Texas, how about you guys?