And this one's mine:
The perfect pop song. Check out the Steve Earle version, if you get the chance.
BBC: Shortlist revealed for BBC award
Ten contenders have been named on the shortlist for the 2007 BBC Sports Personality of the Year award.
I couldn't help noticing that the shortlist does not include a single representative from the sport of pathetic, overpaid, mincing prima donnas.
I had no idea Gruts was so influential.
BBC: Concern over HIV homeopathy role
Doctors and health charities have expressed concern about a conference which will examine the role of homeopathy in treating HIV.
The event includes discussion of what have been described as "healing remedies" for HIV and AIDS.
One of the speakers believes that the treatment, involving flower essences, can be used to halt the AIDS epidemic.
In case any of these homeopaths were wondering, the 'V' in HIV stands for virus. Viruses are parasitic segments of genetic code which replicate by incorporating themselves into their host's own genetic material and piggybacking on the host's genetic replication process. It is debatable whether viruses should be viewed as living organisms at all, but they often participate in evolutionary arms races with their hosts as the hosts evolve counter-measures against the viruses and the viruses evolve corresponding counter-counter measures.
Antibiotics, the most powerful form of medicine known to man, have no effect on viruses. In order to fight viruses such as HIV, we need to develop special anti-viral drugs. In the case of HIV treatment, patients require a cocktail of other drugs to treat the undesirable side-effects of the anti-viral drugs—and other drugs to overcome the side-effects of some of those drugs. It's far from an ideal situation, but it's the best we have at present—and it has vastly extended the life-expectancy of those people with HIV who are lucky enough to live in countries which can afford such treatments.
Adding a few homeopathic sugar-pills to the cocktail of real medicines given to people with HIV will not (and, indeed, cannot) do any harm. But be in no doubt whatsoever that near-infinite dilutions of flower essences have no role to play in our genetic war against the human immunodeficiency virus.
Anyone who advocates homeopathy as an alternative treatment to HIV, however, deserves to be set on fire. Then put out very slowly.
With a spade.
New Scientist: Anti-smoking drug linked to violent behaviour
The anti-smoking drug Chantix is to be investigated by the US Food and Drug Administration after reports linked it to suicidal and violent behaviour.
Of course, an alternative explanation might be that depriving a naturally suicidal or violent person of the calming effect of nicotine might lead to suicidal or violent behaviour.
Fags do have certain benefits to society, as well as their drawbacks.
About this time of year, our nextdoor neighbour's hens go into a mid-winter sulk, and our regular supply of ultra-low food miles, organic, freerange eggs dries up.
As luck would have it, last Saturday, Jen's mum had half a dozen spare eggs from her nextdoor neighbour's pullets, which she let us have.
"Does this mean we've been given a pullet surprise?" I asked Jen.
Jen looked at me blankly.
"Pullet surprise!" I repeated. "Geddit? I thought it was a pretty clever, spontaneous joke."
"So did I the last time you made it," said Jen.
We're all guilty of making selective references. Oh yes we are. You can paraphrase me on part of that, if you like. It's a perfectly natural thing to do—especially if you're trying to prove some point.
There were some great examples of selective references in this week's Any Questions programme on Radio 4. When asked a question about climate change, each of the politicians on the show (apart from the Labour Party rep) referred to the valedictory speech of the UK government's Chief Scientific Adviser, Sir David King, which was critical of certain government policies. The woman from the Green Party even took the opportunity to explain how Sir David had previously described climate change as a far greater threat to the world than international terrorism (which indeed he had), so shouldn't we be spending a lot more money on it than on some "illegal war"? [Cue applause.]
What all these politicians inexplicably neglected to mention, however, was what else Sir David said in his speech. Unfortunately, I have been unable to track down a transcript, so will selectively quote from the BBC's coverage to prove some sort of point of my own:
[Sir David] said: "I would love to see Britain back at the forefront of positive use of GM technology." He added: "The process of GM technology should not be banned. The products of GM technology should be clearly monitored one by one."
He believes there is a moral case for the UK and the rest of Europe to grow GM crops, and thinks Europe's backing would kick-start a technology that could help the world's poorest in Africa.
…or how about this one?
He told BBC News that he was disappointed that the UK government had not pushed forward with more [nuclear] power stations in the 2003 Energy White Paper; the government said that it wanted to see if renewables would fill the gap.
However, Sir David now says that he knew at the time he did not believe renewables on their own would be enough.
(I won't quote the bit about his thoughts on culling badgers, as I don't happen to agree with him on that one.)
I attended a former colleague's funeral service yesterday. Nice chap. He would have been amused to know that he was responsible for making me go to church. I sat right at the back and tried to ignore the vicar, who took advantage of his captive audience.
Half-way through the service, someone's mobile phone began to ring: [I fell into a burning] Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash. You couldn't make it up.
I'm sure my late colleague would have laughed his head off.
Eddie Izzard - Death Star Canteen (with added Lego™):
Jen: Do you want one of these satsumas?
Me: What? You're eating satsumas in my car!
Jen: They're really good.
Me: You'll stink the car out. I've only just got rid of the fish & chips smell from two months back!
Jen: Don't be such a kill-joy! Satsumas aren't like fish & chips: they smell all Christmassy.
Me: So does reindeer shit, but I don't want my car smelling of it!
…surrounded by fucking windmills:
BBC: Wind 'could power all UK homes'
All UK homes could be powered by offshore wind farms by 2020 as part of the fight against climate change, under plans unveiled by John Hutton.
Up to 7,000 turbines could be installed to boost wind produced energy 60-fold by 2020…
Mr Hutton conceded that having a wind installation every half-mile around the coast was "going to change our coastline".
The lunacy continues.
New Scientist: The void: Imprint of another universe?
In August, radio astronomers announced that they had found an enormous hole in the universe. Nearly a billion light years across, the void lies in the constellation Eridanus and has far fewer stars, gas and galaxies than usual. It is bigger than anyone imagined possible and is beyond the present understanding of cosmology. What could cause such a gaping hole? One team of physicists has a breathtaking explanation: "It is the unmistakable imprint of another universe beyond the edge of our own," says Laura Mersini-Houghton of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Interesting use of the word unmistakable, I thought.
Be honest now, did you ever suspect these scientist types were making it up as they went along?
Just spent the evening linking up my sister's old laptop to the new wireless broadband connection in my parents' house...
HOLY CRAP!! My dad is now officially a silver surfer!
Whenever we get together, Stense and I like nothing better than to play the Paparazzo Game. It's dead easy to play, and great fun for almost both of the contestants.
Basically, the Paparazzo Game is a rôle-playing game in which one of you (in our case, Stense) plays an A-list celebrity chick who has got herself embroiled in some tawdry, titillating scandal, while the other player (in our case, yours truly) plays top paparazzo photographer and guttersnipe, Ricardo Carteri, who has been hired by failing Italian scandal rag Il Grutzia to get some exclusive shots of said chick for their website.
The challenge for the celebrity chick is to avoid getting photographed altogether, or to spoil the paparazzo's photos by obscuring her face with anything that happens to come to hand (which, in most cases, is her actual hand). The challenge for the paparazzo is to obtain unobscured shots of said chick—preferably with her jugs out.
Apart from that, as with the real paparazzi, there are absolutely no rules: the paparazzo can use any sneaky, underhanded trick he likes to try to obtain the exclusive shots.
As luck would have it, after a fantastic day out in Conwy last Friday (photos here), Stense and I found ourselves in an exclusive yet discreet Chester hotel. Now, I know what you're thinking, but there might be a perfectly innocent explanation… But what better place to play the Paparazzo Game?
So play it we did. And, I am proud to announce, I rose to the occasion magnificently by coming up with two of the sneakiest, underhandedest tricks in the history of the game: I conveniently neglected to tell Stense that we were actually playing the game, and I waited until her hands were full before I pulled out my camera.
"That is so not fair!" complained Stense, immediately conceding defeat. But any tactic is fair in the Paparazzo Game—that's the whole point:
To cap it all, if you study the above footage from timestamp 00:01 to 00:04 very carefully, you can quite clearly see both of Stense's jugs, captured for posterity.
What is that unusual smell wafting into my flaring nostrils? Why, yes, I believe it must be none other than the sweet smell of VICTORY!
Finally managed to get a photograph of WWII U-Boat U-534 before she leaves her current home in Birkenhead Docks for berths new.
U-534 was comissioned on 23rd December, 1942, carried out three patrols (failing to sink or damage any allied ships), and was sunk by a British Liberator aircraft off the coast of Denmark on 5th May, 1945. Three of her crew were killed, the other 49 survived. She was salvaged in 1993 and put on display on the Wirral, just across the Mersey from the former Western Approaches Command HQ in Liverpool.
U-534 is the same U-Boat that Carolyn and her kids somehow managed to get themselves trapped inside in 2003.
BBC: Picasso stolen from Brazil museum
Thieves in Brazil have stolen two paintings said to be worth $100m (£50m) in a dawn raid on Latin America's most renowned museum…
Pablo Picasso's Portrait of Suzanne Bloch, and The Coffee Worker by Brazil's Candido Portinari, were taken from the Museum of Art of Sao Paulo…
A statement from museum officials said the institution had not suffered such a robbery in its 60-year history.
Without wishing to be pedantic, the institution quite clearly has suffered such a robbery in its 60-year history. Very recently, in fact.
Incidentally, I don't claim to know much about art, but I do know that Pablo Picasso was a total genius (and never got called an asshole). Let's hope the Brazilians recover this stuff soon.
That's a rhetorical question, by the way—I know exactly what egg-nog is.
Nog is one of those stupid made-up words you only ever get to hear at Christmas, like swaddling, manger, figgy and myrrh.
Someone is definitely taking the piss.
BBC: 'Atheistic fundamentalism' fears
The Archbishop of Wales, Dr Barry Morgan, has described a rise in "fundamentalism" as one of the great problems facing the world.
He focused on what he described as "atheistic fundamentalism".
It seems to me you're either an atheist or you're not. It's not the sort of thing you can be by degrees. Atheists don't tend to get into arguments with each other about which gods they don't believe in, or about how their unbelief is better than anyone else's. There is only one rule as far as atheists are concerned: there are no gods. I suppose that's pretty fundamental, but I don't think it's quite what the archbishop has in mind.
The word fundamentalism usually means opposition to liberalism and secularism, and insisting in the unerring accuracy of scripture. That seems a very strange adjective to apply to atheism. We're in serious oxymoron territory here—with the emphasis on the moron.
However, the Archbishop of Wales is reported as saying that atheistic fundamentalism:
[advocates] that religion in general and Christianity in particular have no substance, and that some [atheists] view the faith as "superstitious nonsense".
Erm… Well… Yes and no.
Unless I'm very much mistaken, all atheists would advocate that religions in general—but not Christianity in particular—have no substance (if, by substance, we mean real, actual deities backing them up). And all atheists would, almost by definition, view any religious faith—not just Christian—as "superstitious nonsense".
It seems that, when the archbishop uses the phrase atheistic fundamentalism, what he actually means is atheism. But cop a load of these examples he cites of atheistic fundamentalism:
situations such as councils calling Christmas "Winterval", schools refusing to put on nativity plays and crosses removed from chapels
Those aren't examples of atheism (fundamental or otherwise); those are examples of urban mythical political correctness.
The archbishop is clearly a very confused and paranoid man.
Remember the name—even if you don't know how to pronounce it. He'll be very famous one day.
I came across Maciej Dakowicz's photographs on Flickr earlier this week, and was frankly stunned. His Cardiff at Night photoset [view as slideshow] is amazing. If this fantastic shot doesn't grace the cover of the next Arctic Monkeys album, there really is no justice in this world.
I am green with envy.
Curse those pesky Poles, coming over here with all their raw talent!
It's Christmas Eve. That must mean I went up Moel Famau again, right?
Well, yes. But I very nearly didn't make it this year. I made the mistake of going for a practice walk with Irish Mick and his mate Geoff the day before (photos here). It was a great walk, but it reignited an old Achilles' tendon injury which I had been under the mistaken impression was finally healed (no pun intended). As a result, today's ascent wasn't so much a walk as a hobble. In the pouring rain. On my own.
But I had to do it because this year was the big two-oh: twenty consecutive Christmas Eve ascents of Moel Famau.
As I've said before, it's the closest thing I have to regular exercise.
"The ridiculous things I have to do for your daughter!" I complained to Carolyn's mum, showing her the text message Carolyn had sent me five minutes earlier:
Do you fancy bringing the mice with you? Secretly of course!
Carolyn's mum, being Carolyn's mum, is used to this sort of thing. She handed over the cage containing the three white mice that Carolyn's kids are getting for Christmas and wished me good luck.
How to smuggle a cage of mice into Carolyn's house without any of her extremely observant children noticing? Answer: Transfer them from the boot of my car to the boot of Carolyn's car, then go into Carolyn's house and create a distraction while Carolyn transfers the mice from the boot of her car into some hidey-hole inside the house. It worked like a dream.
So I can now add rodent smuggling to the lenghy list of ridiculous tasks Carolyn has set me over the years.
Merry Christmas!
While Jen and I were watching the Doctor Who Christmas Special on Christmas Day, I couldn't help pointing out that the meteoroids currently bearing down on spaceship Titanic orbiting Planet Earth would not, in actual fact, be massive fireballs, as they were still in space. Meteoroids only start to burn after they enter a planet's atmosphere, when they are known as meteors. Any parts of them which survive the passage through the atmosphere and the subsequent collision with the planet are known as meteorites.
I also pointed out that magnetising a spaceship's hull seemed like an unlikely strategy to attract passing meteoroids: the magnetic field required to do this would need to be inconceivably immense, especially as we had already seen that the meteoroids' original trajectories came nowhere near the ship's.
Then it occurred to me that it was rather odd of me to complain about minor scientific inaccuracies like these, when I was quite happy to accept that our hero was a double-hearted Time Lord from Planet Gallifrey who regenerates every time he dies, and who travels the universe in a box which is bigger on the inside than on the outside. So I shut up.
If you can't suspend disbelief on Christmas Day of all days, when can you?
Guardian: New plaque tells truth of Peterloo killings 188 years on
The uncomfortable truth about a defining moment in the history of democracy in Britain has finally been recorded—188 years after the event—on a red plaque fixed to a wall in the centre of Manchester.
The 1819 Peterloo massacre, which followed a rally where thousands had gathered at St Peter's Fields to demand that the new industrial cities should have the right to elect MPs, has for years been commemorated only by a blue plaque on the Free Trade Hall, now converted to a hotel.
But the plaque made no mention of those cut down and killed when the local volunteer yeomanry was ordered to charge and break up the meeting, whose principal speaker was the famed orator Henry Hunt…
Now Manchester city council has fixed a permanent red plaque to the wall and updated the death toll in line with the latest research. It reads: "On August 16 1819 a peaceful rally of 60,000 pro-democracy reformers, men, women and children, was attacked by armed cavalry resulting in 15 deaths and over 600 injuries."
The above story only managed to make page 10 of the [formerly Manchester] Guardian. A Google News search indicates that this was the only coverage the story received in the UK national press.
Meanwhile, in other news (from the Newspaper of Record):
Times: Small but classy
Tips to help a petite woman look good.
Back in October, Nite Owl commented on one of my posts that he likes to think of me as the Terry Wogan on the Internet. By this, I assumed he meant that I rely on my audience to provide the best content. Clever stuff if you can carry it off, but Terry is a real pro at that game, and I'm a rank amateur by comparison. But Nite Owl might have a point…
Reader-cum-lurker Jon Wright writes:
On my way home to Wallasey for Xmas when I chanced upon a confutation you may find amusing… or more likely depressing.
Excellent stuff! Inconsistency in chesty models: now that's exactly the sort of thing Gruts is supposed to be all about! Thanks, Jon.
But hold on! There's more…
Coming soon: Stense's nurses' uniform photos. No bullshit: after literally years of pathetic entreaties and occasional attempts at blackmail by yours truly, she has finally sent me some! Watch this space!
London Review of Books: Gloomy/Cheerful
Norse myths are probably more familiar than classical ones in the modern world, perhaps even more familiar than the Old Testament stories Europeans were once brought up on.
I'm sorry, but that is just utter bollocks.
I say this as one who is probably more well-informed than your average member of the public when it comes to matters Norse. I don't claim to be an expert or anything, but I did used to (and, to some extend still do) have a big thing about so-called Dark Age history, I studied archaeology as one of my subjects at university, and I even took part in an archaeological dig at a supposed Viking settlement in Shetland. So I've picked up a thing or two in my time about Norse mythology.
But to claim that Norse myths might be more familiar than Old Testament ones is pure hogwash. Remember Adam and Eve and that bloody snake? Noah and his infeasible boat? Gideon and the walls of Jericho? Lot's wife? The bloke in the whale? That nutter who wanted to cut the kid in half? Samson and Delilah? David and Goliath? Sodom and Begorrah? The Queen of Sheba? Bathsheba in her bath. God saying to Abraham, 'Kill me a son!'? God being a total bastard to Job? Moses and all those 'Thou shalt not's? All that begetting? The Hittites and the Ammonites? The list goes on…
And on the Norse side of the equation? Ragnarok, Valhalla, the Valkyries, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and that's about it!
Like I said, utter bollocks! Why do otherwise intelligent people come out with nonsense like that?
The delightfully named Dr Andrew Wadge sounds like a very sensible man:
Guardian: News in brief
Forget detox diets, says food standards chief
The Food Standards Agency's chief scientist has urged consumers to ditch detox diets and supplements. Drinking water, taking exercise and eating home-cooked food can all help tackle festive excess, Dr Andrew Wadge says on his FSA website blog. "There's a lot of nonsense talked about 'detoxing' and most people seem to forget that we are born with a built-in detox mechanism. It's called the liver. My advice would be to ditch the detox diets and supplements and buy yourself something nice with the money you've saved. Personally, I would recommend the new Neil Young and Steve Earle albums."
I've been making some changes to the Gruts comments facility, which should kick into effect automagically on 1st January. The new system will only apply to comments on new Gruts items posted from that date; old items will continue to use the old comments facility.
I've tested the new facility as best I can, but changing stuff like this without taking the whole website down is a bit like trying to change a wheel on a car without stopping the car. So I won't be at all surprised is there are a few bugs which need ironing out.
Why have I made the changes? Well, there are a two reasons:
- [main reason] to allow the comments about a particular item to appear directly after the item on its archive page, rather than on a separate 'comments' page;
- [behind the scenes] to record comments in a more structured format, thereby enabling me (in future) to add some other commenting features (such as providing links to the latest comments on the Gruts homepage, and maybe even allowing individual commenters' comments to be marked in some characteristic way).
Apologies in advance for any bugs that have sneaked through. I'll try to get them fixed as soon as possible.
Conversation with Jen this morning:
R: I just saw a woman taking a ferret for a walk.
J: The whippet must be ill.
One year ago today:
Times: Your stars for 2007
In the first part of a two-week horoscope special, Shelley von Strunckel explains why next year is all about healing the planet—and it starts with balancing your own personal ecosystem…
Aries
March 21–April 19You struggle to maintain your inner balance this year. While your independent streak is a strength, it sometimes turns into rebellion, as could be the case early in 2007, when you're given advice. Once you realise others are wiser, however, you'll listen. This begins an informative year, in which challenges provide a springboard for valuable insights. Thus, by mid-May, when your ruler Mars's move into Aries begins an intensive six-week-long review of your life, you're up for it. What's more, with your world in constant transition, you're challenged to justify goals, personal and otherwise. This is timely, since, with eclipses in March, late August and September shaking up elements of your daily life, work and obligations, a regular reorganisation is inevitable. More important, you finally make the link between your energy crashes and clashes with others, and your tendency to overcommit. Instead of vowing to become better organised, you begin meditating and suddenly seem to have more hours in each day.
0/10.
While we were out playing the Paparazzo Game the other week, Stense complimented me on my "salt and pepper beard".
It wasn't until the following day that I realised what Stense was really trying to tell me was that my beard has recently developed quite a few grey flecks. I sent her a text message, pointing out that she had spoken about my salt and pepper beard as if it was a good thing to have. Her reply:
Of course! It's a very distinguished look - well done! Stense xx
Distinguished! I liked that! For about 24 hours, that was. Then it occurred to me that I have only ever heard the adjective distinguished used to describe elderly people. The cheeky cow!
The problem with having my particular salt and pepper beard is that three or four of its grey hairs have chosen to clump together directly under my left nostril. From a distance, when the beard hasn't been trimmed for a couple of weeks, this can look uncannily like a trail of snot.
Which isn't particularly distinguised.
Let it never be said that I'm not a man of my word. What better way to see the old year out with a bang than with a few tasteful nurses' uniform photos [slideshow], courtesy of the lovely Stense?
Have a good one. Try not to drink too much tonight. And you'll both be hearing from me again early in 2008 (alcohol poisoning permitting).
2008… Christ!
