Every Contribution Counts.

That's you.
All of you.

Listen, I hear the sounds of my approaching thirties (over a year off yet) and I can't help feeling that not just me, but all of us, are sleepwalking.

Sleepwalking on a treadmill whilst we're ripped off.

It's the energy of all of you that keeps all the wonders of modern life going.
And we could have far more wonders yet.
And a lot more fun.
If so many of us did not waste our lives in completely pointless occupations.

Time I think, we all started to think a little.
Because our children are going to live here. And their children.
And we want a humanity that, literally reaches for the stars, not settles for the Earth.
And we ALL have a responsibility to safeguard that.

So, time to stand up and be counted.
It's YOUR world.

Some of You Will Love This, Others Not so Much.

New Order fans will like this. Footie fans will love this.
Ubermouth will hate it.

Slight Apprehension.

My best mate has taken a sudden interest in my flatmate.

This creates somewhat of a moral dilemma.

I love my mate to bits, but I would advise my sister (if I had one) to stay well clear.

He rang last night to ask if I had a problem with him coming over for the weekend to make a move. Obviously, I gave my permission (He did offer some bribes.)

I have told her that he is coming and that he is interested.
She asked my advice.
I have told her she can surely understand why I can not comment at all.

I have a distinct sense that this may lead to a situation that is downright messy and to be honest, I want nothing to with it.

But you see there is always the possibility it is for the best.
Maybe she is the one he is looking for.
And vice versa.

Maybe I should trust in the good sense of two people who matter to me very much in different ways.

Quite Possibly, the Worst Country in the World. Apart from All those Other Ones.

I confess, this is a pretty lousy country in many ways.
And getting lousier by the day.

Life in the UK is not quite as fun as the TV tells you.

Sure, a lot of people must be able to spend quite a bit of money. Hence all those programmes about buying houses, or interior decoration.

But in reality, we work long hours at pointless jobs, aspiring to rent our homes from the building society, rather than a landlord.

We don't even really have much of a culture any more.

But aside from the fact that we don't live in a polarised, anger filled, failing economy like France, or a society of self-loathing, like the Germans, or worse, any one of those hundred or so other nations where everyday life is so miserable, you or I can not even consider it, there are things about this country that make it home.

Like it or not, whatever we might think, we don't really yearn for open spaces.

We are used to a land of Housing estates, Out of town shopping centres, Business Parks, Heritage sights, Power stations, Inner city ghettoes, Areas of outstanding natural beauty and Victorian Architecture.

We are used to a culture of Beer, Football, Soap Operas, Shakespeare, Tabloid journalism, Indian food and Hooliganism.

Where people never say what they are thinking, are cultured in small talk, where office politics are more complex than national politics, where the girls are loose and the lads are drunk. These people you understand.

So yes, it's no Paradise.
But it's home.

It's About the Passion

Not everybody understands how important the beautiful game is.

It is important.

The love a man feels for his football team, is one of the driving passions of his life.

Born Blue, Live Blue, Die Blue.

And I don't apologise for it.

Which do You Want? Political Parties? Or Democracy?

I was debating over the weekend with a friend on the incompatibility of the party system with true democracy, or even what we theoretically have, representative democracy. On the basis of the poll I ran on this site, many of you feel that way.
Sadly, 45% of you still think your crosses on your ballot paper are more than just an endorsement.

The party system means, by and large, Members of Parliament, are accountable to their whips, not their constituents.

Put bluntly, The Labour Member for Rhondda is unlikely to lose the Rhondda because he votes for a goverment measure which cripples the local economy.

He is more likely to lose his seat, because he is disowned by the Labour Party for voting with his conscience, by voting against the government too much.

And those of you who incline to the other side need not nod so wisely either, the same goes for the Tory member for Chelsea, when the Tories are in.

The party system streamlines voters to vote in blocks. People do not vote for the best person to represent them in the debating chamber of the nation, they endorse an organisation to rule them.

If MPs were reliant on their constituents for the livelihoods and not a party machine, much sinister legislation in recent years could not have been passed.

The latest Criminal Justice Act is a prime example. It is an APPALLING piece of Fascism. It introduces 'indeterminate' sentences, which means life sentences they don't want to call life sentences because it would horrify people to find out that these sentences can now be imposed for such a range of offences.
And that's just the start of it.

The Right to Silence. Double Jeopardy.
Things that appear in the MAGNA CARTA.
Things even medieval barons thought were basic rights.
Abolished by a democratic legislature?

Would a democratic legislature endorse the expanse in bureacracy, the waste of GNP in increased regulation, the ban on smoking?

Would it have accepted the Weapons of Mass Destruction tales so lightly?

It is right that an Executive should propose and initiate legislation.

It is undemocratic that an organisation of any kind can co-ordinate both the executive, and the supposed representatives of the people who debate such things.

Of course, getting rid of parties would mean people actually had to THINK a bit more about the INDIVIDUAL they voted for, and not just look for the picture on the ballot paper.

How a Conversation Ended

Reading some of your comments earlier on the the troubles of The Chimney Sweep, reminded me that the conversation held at the weekend which led to the post in question, had later moved on to how some of his musical tastes were better than others.

Meatloaf- bad.
This- absolutely brilliant.

This is Systems Of A Down

Not Born Yesterday, Scam Merchants

I get sick of this junk. These scummy scams are so obvious, they might as well be an ITV quiz show.

In my inbox this morning.

The British National Lottery
P O Box 1010
3b Olympic Way, Sefton Business Park,
Aintree, Liverpool , L30 1RD
(Customer Services)

Ref: UK/9420X2/68
Batch: 074/05/ZY369
Ticket number:56475600545 188
Lucky Numbers: 05,06,17,20,28,42(Bonus33)

Dear Winner

We wish to congratulate and inform you on the selection of cash prize of £ 1000,000.00 (British Pounds) held on the 1st March 2007 in London Uk.The selection process was carried out through random selection in Our computerized email selection system (ess) from a database of over 250,000 email addresses drawn from which you were selected. And Your e-mail address attached to ticket number:56475600545 188 with Serial number 5368/02 drew the lucky numbers: 05, 06, 17, 20, 28, 42 ( Bonus 33) , which subsequently won you the lottery in the 1st category i.e match 5
plus bonus.

You have therefore been approved to claim a total sum of 1 Million Pounds,(One Million Pounds) in cash credited to file KTU/9023118308/03. This is from a total cash prize of £ 1000,000 Million Pounds , shared amongst the(4)lucky winners in this category i.e Match 6 plus bonus.

For due processing of your winning claim, please contact the FIDUCIARY AGENT Information Officer Mr. Roy Phil who has been assigned to assist you. You are to contact him with the following details for the release of your winnings.
==============================================
Agent Name: Mr. Roy Phil,
Tel: +44 70457 10544
Email: britishlottery_claimdept07@yahoo.co.uk
==============================================
contact him, please provide him with the following Requirements below:

Claims Requirements:
1.Name in full------------------------------
2.Address---------------------------------
3.Nationality-------------------------------
4.Age-------------------------------------
5.Occupation------------------------------
6.Phone/Fax------------------------------
7.Present Country------------------------
=============================================

If you do not contact your claims agent within 5 working days of this Notification, your winnings would be revoked. Winners are advised to keep their winning details/information from the public to avoid Fraudulent claim (IMPORTANT) pending the prize claim by Winner.

*Winner under the age of 18 are automatically disqualified. *Staff of the British Lottery are not to partake in this Lottery.

Accept my hearty congratulations once again!

Regards
Mrs. Stella Ellis
(Group Coordinator

Note that you are not to reply to this E-mail,please contact your claims officer directly to start the processing of your claims application form.

Great. I'm rich. But- er - why do I have to ring some dodgy dude on a mobile to claim? Why can't I ring your customer service department, British Lottery?

And if you are dividing a prize fund of one million betwen four winners, how is my share STILL A Million?

And how do you make a profit? Where does this prize money come from?

I would e mail to ask these questions, but apparently they don't want me to.

Anyway, if you fancy claiming my million quid for me, or even just want to set up an internet scam of your own and need advice, why not ring Roy on the number he kindly gave me?

That's 07045 710544

Concern For a Friend

Myself and The Baker had a long talk this weekend regarding The Chimney Sweep.

We are a little worried for him.

His girlfriend has started to talk about marriage increasingly seriously, and certain remarks of hers could be interpreted as veiled threats.

There are a number of problems here.
Firstly, The Chimney Sweep is not famed for his decisiveness. Nor his resistance to pressure.
He could well be steamrollered into this.
He loves her in the sense that he's now hit thirty and believes his options are running out, so he settles for comfort and calls it love.

Both myself and The Baker have suspicions regarding her motives.
The reasons are simple.

She is a nurse from Zimbabwe and it would be very convenient for her to marry a British Citizen.
Neither myself or The Baker have been satisfied in our conversations with her, that even if this is not her sole motivation, it does not play some part.
Especially when she lets slip the high lifestyle she thinks should be hers by right.
I have actually spoken to her directly about her plans. I said that I was sure she understood why I was concerned.
I still was not happy after our discussion.

Myself and The Baker agree we are right to be concerned.
What is more, we both know from conversations with The Chimney Sweep, that he hestitates precisely because he sometimes worries about her motivation too.
What is also clear is that if we make it too obvious that we are suspicious, The Chimney Sweep may well be put under curfew and we will be unable to help him when he needs us.

We watch with interest and some anxiety.

Your chance to Deliver your Verdict on Blair

Direct Democracy- Isn't it great?

Results of the Poll on the question 'Is this really a dictatorship, where all we do is choose the winning teams?'

Total votes cast 22

Yes 12 (55%)
No 10 (45%)

Now admittedly, our poll here possibly lacks the accuracy of a YouGov or ICM Poll, due to the size of the sample, but I would hazard a guess that it is the most accurate poll asking this particular question.

So there you have it.
55% of you think this democracy business is a bit of a lie.

New question.
Poor Tony is handing over to Gordon now.
As we all know, his legacy is very important to him.

Now we all know that Blair's real aim was to excell Thatcher. He's done quite well at this in some ways. Certainly I find that after ten years of Blair, Thatcher seems to have become better thought of.
Now Thatcher definitely polarised the nation. She was loved and loathed in equal measure. With Blair, I think opinion may be more uniform.

Anyway, let's judge Tony the way he'd want to be judged.

Have your say.

For those who Say Great Music is Dead

Knights of Cydonia, by Muse.

Truly Amazing.

Notice to Voters

This site's opinion poll on right will close tomorrow afternoon.

A new question will be posted tomorrow on the great issue that Blair must now be facing.

The Long Awaited Return of Zarathustra

Because I am slightly tied up tonight, I'm going to cheat and leave you a little more from the adventures of Zarathustra, who we have not heard of for a week.

Not much for me to say, I'll leave you in the hands of Nietzche.

ONCE on a time, Zarathustra also cast his fancy beyond man, like all
backworldsmen. The work of a suffering and tortured God, did the world
then seem to me.
The dream- and diction- of a God, did the world then seem to me;
coloured vapours before the eyes of a divinely dissatisfied one.
Good and evil, and joy and woe, and I and thou- coloured vapours did
they seem to me before creative eyes. The creator wished to look
away from himself,- thereupon he created the world.
Intoxicating joy is it for the sufferer to look away from his
suffering and forget himself. Intoxicating joy and self-forgetting,
did the world once seem to me.
This world, the eternally imperfect, an eternal contradiction's
image and imperfect image- an intoxicating joy to its imperfect
creator:- thus did the world once seem to me.
Thus, once on a time, did I also cast my fancy beyond man, like
all backworldsmen. Beyond man, forsooth?
Ah, ye brethren, that God whom I created was human work and human
madness, like all the gods!
A man was he, and only a poor fragment of a man and ego. Out of mine
own ashes and glow it came unto me, that phantom. And verily, it
came not unto me from the beyond!
What happened, my brethren? I surpassed myself, the suffering one; I
carried mine own ashes to the mountain; a brighter flame I contrived
for myself. And lo! Thereupon the phantom withdrew from me!
To me the convalescent would it now be suffering and torment to
believe in such phantoms: suffering would it now be to me, and
humiliation. Thus speak I to backworldsmen.
Suffering was it, and impotence- that created all backworlds; and
the short madness of happiness, which only the greatest sufferer
experienceth.
Weariness, which seeketh to get to the ultimate with one leap,
with a death-leap; a poor ignorant weariness, unwilling even to will
any longer: that created all gods and backworlds.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which despaired of the
body- it groped with the fingers of the infatuated spirit at the
ultimate walls.
Believe me, my brethren! It was the body which despaired of the
earth- it heard the bowels of existence speaking unto it.
And then it sought to get through the ultimate walls with its
head- and not with its head only- into "the other world."
But that "other world" is well concealed from man, that dehumanised,
inhuman world, which is a celestial naught; and the bowels of
existence do not speak unto man, except as man.
Verily, it is difficult to prove all being, and hard to make it
speak. Tell me, ye brethren, is not the strangest of all things best
proved?
Yea, this ego, with its contradiction and perplexity, speaketh
most uprightly of its being- this creating, willing, evaluing ego,
which is the measure and value of things.
And this most upright existence, the ego- it speaketh of the body,
and still implieth the body, even when it museth and raveth and
fluttereth with broken wings.
Always more uprightly learneth it to speak, the ego; and the more it
learneth, the more doth it find titles, and honours for the body and
the earth.
A new pride taught me mine ego, and that teach I unto men: no longer
to thrust one's head into the sand of celestial things, but to carry
it freely, a terrestrial head, which giveth meaning to the earth!
A new will teach I unto men: to choose that path which man hath
followed blindly, and to approve of it- and no longer to slink aside
from it, like the sick and perishing!
The sick and perishing- it was they who despised the body and the
earth, and invented the heavenly world, and the redeeming blood-drops;
but even those sweet and sad poisons they borrowed from the body and
the earth!
From their misery they sought escape, and the stars were too
remote for them. Then they sighed: "O that there were heavenly paths
by which to steal into another existence and into happiness!" Then
they contrived for themselves their bypaths and bloody draughts!
Beyond the sphere of their body and this earth they now fancied
themselves transported, these ungrateful ones. But to what did they
owe the convulsion and rapture of their transport? To their body and
this earth.
Gentle is Zarathustra to the sickly. Verily, he is not indignant
at their modes of consolation and ingratitude. May they become
convalescents and overcomers, and create higher bodies for themselves!
Neither is Zarathustra indignant at a convalescent who looketh
tenderly on his delusions, and at midnight stealeth round the grave of
his God; but sickness and a sick frame remain even in his tears.
Many sickly ones have there always been among those who muse, and
languish for God; violently they hate the discerning ones, and the
latest of virtues, which is uprightness.
Backward they always gaze toward dark ages: then, indeed, were
delusion and faith something different. Raving of the reason was
likeness to God, and doubt was sin.
Too well do I know those godlike ones: they insist on being believed
in, and that doubt is sin. Too well, also, do I know what they
themselves most believe in.
Verily, not in backworlds and redeeming blood-drops: but in the body
do they also believe most; and their own body is for them the
thing-in-itself.
But it is a sickly thing to them, and gladly would they get out of
their skin. Therefore hearken they to the preachers of death, and
themselves preach backworlds.
Hearken rather, my brethren, to the voice of the healthy body; it is
a more upright and pure voice.
More uprightly and purely speaketh the healthy body, perfect and
square-built; and it speaketh of the meaning of the earth.-

Sorry, I couldn't give you anything more original. Still have guests. And anyway, Nietzche is always pure gold.

The First Album I Ever Bought

It does look very dated in production technology, but I felt a whole new world when I first heard it. I was about fourteen.

Been a Long Day

It's been a long day. I do know what I am posting tomorrow, but at this point, I still have guests, so here's some wisdom from Jim to keep you occupied.

Facing Up to When You Are an Awful Person

Not everything that I've ever said or done in my life is something that I can look back on with pride.
Much if it, I certainly can't.

I am perfectly capable of being kind, generous and thoughtful.

I am also capable of being cruel, callous and vindictive.

I guess what really matters is how sorry we are when we look at the results of the second.

Here's a tale of a way I behaved in many years ago, which will haunt me for the rest of my life.

When I was a student, there was a lad lived in the same halls as a friend of mine. I'll call him Barry, though that wasn't his name.
Barry came out at University. This is a hard thing for anyone to do, especially in an environment that isn't as open minded and tolerant as it likes to think it is.
And at that point I was not as open minded, or tolerant as I liked to think.

Barry started having a relationship with a boy from the town. The boy in question was younger than him. It is a borderline issue, certainly in terms of ethics, but in retrospect, it can't have been easy for Barry at this time. His head was probably a little messed up.

We were out one Friday and Barry came up to talk to my friend. I blanked Barry.
When I reached for a cigarette, Barry asked me for one.
I remember my reply vividly, because at the time, I was proud of it.

'Did you just ask me for a fag, faggot?'
He looked shocked. I continued.
'Don't EVER ask me for a fag. Don't ever speak to me. Don't give people the impression we're friends, or that I even know you. You take yourself off over there. As far as I am concerned, you're filth. You are ruining the life of a boy who knows no better and you should be ashamed. So It wouldn't bother me too much if you took yourself outside and jumped off the f***ing pier.'

He departed, wordless.

I thought myself so superior.



Three months later, Barry stood in front of a train.

I don't suppose my words on their own made him do it, but I feel sure they were just another one of the straws that finally broke the camels back.

I can't forget that my last words to a man who ended up killing himself, were words which effectively told him to do just that.

And I have never apologised to anyone, because I don't know who to direct an apology to.

But one thing I do know. My life's not always been easy, but I have never even considered doing what he did.

The pain of his daily existence must have been unendurable, in a way I can't even comprehend.

And I was part of the problem, not the solution.

One of many awful actions I have to live with.

I'd be a Spider Monkey

OK. Here's the deal.

You've offended a sorceror and he's going to turn you into an animal.

But he's feeling benevolent, and he's letting you choose the animal you're going to be for the rest of your life.

You have one minute to choose.
Otherwise you're a Sea Squirt.

Choose carefully.

Republican does not equate to Terrorist

I am sometimes asked by people, having heard some of my opinions and knowing my roots, whether I 'support' the IRA.

Now in some ways, that is a facile question. I might as well say 'Do you support the British Army?'.
Especially potent as a question today.

I tell them that they are asking a complex question to which I can only really give them the long answer.

In my heart, yes, I believe that is sad that Irishmen and women are divided by hate.
In my head I see no solution.
But I do believe that peace and Irish unity are a vicious circle.
No peace without unity, no unity without peace.

But that cannot be imposed.

In practical terms, the current situation endures because if the British government with all it's resources cannot deal with the siuation, the Goverment of the Republic cannot hope to deal with the hatred of a million angry Orangeman. A united Ireland would be an island of civil war.

And yet a disunited Ireland can never be at peace either.

At present, it is impossible to talk of real common ground betwen the sides. There is just an uneasy truce. But I hold no hopes for it lasting long term. The peace process can only go so far, because there are some compromises that neither side can possibly make. The Loyalists cannot ever agree with the Republicans on WHICH country it is they live in.
Republicans in the six counties know they live in Ireland.
Loyalists have a problem with maps and think they live in Britain.

Fact remains, Ulster Protestants hate the religion of the majority of their countrymen SO MUCH, they would rather be ruled by foreigners. How Ironic, they are known as loyalists.

It will be said that the North of Ireland remains part of the UK, because it is the wishes of the majority of it's people.
But in what sense can six counties of a country be a unit with the right of self determination?

Put it this way, if we had a referendum tomorrow on leaving the EU and all of Britain voted to leave, except Sussex, Kent and Surrey, would those counties remain in the EU, and the rest of us leave?

The situation surives because, though it's bad, it's the least messy of the possible options. Britain doesn't really want the problem, but seventy five years after the Treaty, nor does the Republic.

So in my head, I know that the South is better off as it is.

But I do hope one day ALL Irishman look at the 1916 proclamation of Independence and see it as an ideal to live up to.

This document is on the door of my living room. Read what it says.
Republicanism isn't about violence or sectarianism.
Not in principle.

The 1916 Proclamation of the Republic of Ireland.

IRISHMEN AND IRISHWOMEN: In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom.

Having organised and trained her manhood through her secret revolutionary organisation, the Irish Republican Brotherhood, and through her open military organisations, the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army, having patiently perfected her discipline, having resolutely waited for the right moment to reveal itself, she now seizes that moment, and, supported by her exiled children in America and by gallant allies in Europe, but relying in the first on her own strength, she strikes in full confidence of victory.

We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible. The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people and government has not extinguished the right, nor can it ever be extinguished except by the destruction of the Irish people. In every generation the Irish people have asserted their right to national freedom and sovereignty: six times during the past three hundred years they have asserted it in arms. Standing on that fundamental right and again asserting it in arms in the face of the world, we hereby proclaim the Irish Republic as a Sovereign Independent State, and we pledge our lives and the lives of our comrades-in-arms to the cause of its freedom, of its welfare, and its exaltation among the nations.

The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irishwoman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all the children of the nation equally, and oblivious of the differences carefully fostered by an alien government, which have divided a minority from the majority in the past.

Until our arms have brought the opportune moment for the establishment of a permanent National Government, representative of the whole people of Ireland and elected by the suffrages of all her men and women, the Provisional Government, hereby constituted, will administer the civil and military affairs of the Republic in trust for the people.

We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God, Whose blessing we invoke upon our arms, and we pray that no one who serves that cause will dishonour it by cowardice, inhumanity, or rapine. In this supreme hour the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline and by the readiness of its children to sacrifice themselves for the common good, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called.

I believe in every word written there.
And I pray that one day Irish Unity will come.
But it will need a revolution in how Irishmen see eachother first.

Remember this?

Now they don't make TV dramas as witty or as classy as this any more.
Wish they'd repeat it on one of the channels.

Bank Holiday Chaos

Another bank holiday weekend looming.
And I have absolutely no idea what exactly I am supposed to be doing.

The Baker had invited me to join him watching Bristol Rovers play Shrewsbury Town at Wembley.
Live Football. Wembley.
Don't have to think too hard about that.

He rings last night, having failed miserably to purchase the tickets.

Bang goes that plan.

But he had an alternative.

Apparently Judge Jules is playing at some dive in Telford, which for the benefit of non UK readers is a hole somwhere near Wolverhampton.

Of course, where The Baker is involved, nothing is ever that simple. In fact trying to keep track of the constantly changing blueprint for the weekend is beyond me.

What will be, will be...

A Guest Post by David Anthony- The 'N' Word

I think for most of us- for me anyway- we blog partly to exchange ideas and be provoked in to doing some thinking.

Which is why I think it's a good idea to surrender the chair sometimes and give someone else a turn. There are a lot of things to be said for it.

Now we've had some posts by dead guys here, tonight we have one from a living thinker, to be found at David Anthony Republic, linked below.

David has some thought provoking words to offer on taking away the power of words to wound.

This is David Anthony, on the 'N' word.

Much has changed in Western society since Martin Luther King, Jr. led 250,000 people up to the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC and delivered his ‘I have a dream’ speech. Gone are the segregated buses that trawled through the streets of Atlanta, gone are the separated water fountains, and gone, by and large, are the social divisions maintained by oppressive white people to separate themselves from the black community. We now live in a world that recognises the iniquity and immorality of those manufactured social separations from an age past to history. But one festering relic of those dark days still remains … the N word.

The word that embodied all of the - self-proclaimed – superiority and hate of the white man over black still sifts low over the doldrums of modern society. In a world in which ethnic and social divisions are being eroded away, why does this word still exist and still contain so much hatred and cause for offence?


In my opinion, it is precisely because the word is stigmatised within the modern vernacular that it continues to exist within its own self-made cesspool. Like the last stocks of Smallpox maintained in securely-kept laboratories, so the N word is locked away from public usage and continues to linger.

By removing it from public discourse we are removing its ability to morph and change as all other words do. The way things are at the moment, only the hate-mongers in our society have access to the word, everyone else is terrified to even utter its sound. The hatred attached to the word is therefore heightened and those wishing to hate feel, somehow, vindicated in their distasteful beliefs.


Words are simply labels which access thoughts and emotions within our own minds. It is not the word itself that causes offence, it is the associations we all have of it in our collective unconscious. By storing away the word, we a denying its ability to change into something more positive. Also by storing it away, we are maintaining its hate-filled associations within our own minds.

Gay people learned long ago that the way to remove hatred and venom from a word was to claim it as their own and ridicule it. It's at a point now where the people hurling those abusive words at gay people are made to look ridiculous, rather than their desired intent. The same can be true for racists too; if we – as a society and as individuals – have the courage to open up the proverbial Pandora’s Box and allow the word freedom to claim back its rightful identity, we can allow it to grow into something positive.

I realise that some words are harder to claim back from the haters than others (and this is undoubtedly the hardest) but locking away anything, whether it be words or swastikas will not heal anything, it only serves to preserve the hate speech and paraphernalia of those wishing to continue hating.


Black people have, in a way, taken back ownership of the word, but not in a positive way. The word is now used by people such as 50cent in a derogatory manner, highlighting the sub-gang culture that has developed within America’s inner-cities. This is also offensive to other Black people who do not wish to be associated with this culture. Also, all other ethnic groups are still denied usage of the word and the stigma remains.


You may have noticed that I have avoided using the word in this article. This is because it is still such an emotive word and has enormous capacity to cause offence. I hope, that one day in the future, we are able to free the word from its hate-filled prison and allow it to grow as a flower… and not as a weed.

Being Over Sensitive

I don't watch over much TV.
One of the fews things I do watch are CSI, Law and Order and the like. I do like these American Crime dramas. They are a lot more advanced and entertaining than the drivel this country produces. Otherwise, it is only really documentaries and politics programmes that I watch.

It is interesting the number of times in the last week I have heard that 'the scheduled episode will not be shown tonight'.

It's usually not hard to figure why the scheduled episode may have been postponed.

Yet why is a drama programme that may allude to events that ressemble actual events in the media more likely to cause offence than the endless ghoulish media circus that actually surrounds the events?

It's amazing how we can be so sensitive to these things in an era when TV find new lows to plummet to in an effort to keep audiences high, by exploiting the shock factor.

Which ties in nicely with tonight's post. Which isn't by me.

Enjoy The Silence

This is possibly Depeche Mode's finest track. It is a song that cannot fail to make you feel tht deep down, life really is beautiful.

Which is because it is.

An Answer to Someone's Pessimism

I had a conversation recently with someone where a key point about visions of the future centred on Man (or Woman) him(/her)self.

They have a very negative view of human existence, whereas I believe the path that took us upward from Homo Habilis is a path that continues on its course.
This person is actually a very caring person with a lot of love in them, but holds the view that the future will be dark.
And I'm sure it will be in places. History has been.

The real issue is the state of Man in the West today.
I believe that we should aspire to learn to govern ourselves, that one day we will advance beyond the crude repression that those of us who can see, understand is still present, even in this country, though the iron fist be hid in a velvet glove.

To this person, our slavish apathy is part of our human nature.
I say it is social conditioning.

So we're back to nature versus nurture. And I realised it does matter.
Because if she is right, and the 'nature' side of the fence is right, it doesn't look good for us.
But I don't think she is.

Firstly, let me just point out that you can only use human nature as an excuse so far. It is obvious that our nature is malleable and inexhaustive in it's capacity to develop.
Obviously, ten thousand years ago we were patrolling the savannahs spearing bison, much as we had done the previous eight hundred thousand years. So if we have a 'nature', that's what we are geared up to.

Now consider this. Our species, a primate species, descended from tree dwellers, had succeeded in making itself Lords of the Earth.
Over the Carnivores.
Animals that had evolved over tens of millions of years to be Lords of The Earth.

Look at nature 'red in tooth and claw.'
And realise that to master that, we must have evolved to be nastier, more brutal, more dangerous, more cunning than any other creature on the savannah.

Rest assured, Homo Erectus was a cannibalitic murdering rapist by nature.
So if you talk human nature, that is EXACTLY what you mean.

And yes, it's nasty.

But over time something evolved in us that had never evolved in another species. Modern behaviourists call it extelligence.

Many species are INtelligent. Dolphins, some insects, many primates and carnivores.
But only we share our thoughts and pass on knowledge in a way that does not come through our genes.
It comes from that wholly Homo Sapiens creation.
Linguistic communication.

And look at the world that has created.

In terms of evolution, Homo Sapiens is a whole new ball game. We are in a world where instinct has been superseded as a necessary part of an animals nature.

In our species we have evolved something that evolution itself has declared to be superior, by her own laws, by elevating us to where we are.

And it is what we do here that has done that.
Communicate.

It leads us to rise above our individualistic animal past and be something better.

Which means that the apathy of our people is now a matter of choice.
We now have the power to cut the apron strings of our origins and be the unique beings we thought we were before we discovered where we came from and forget that that was where were we were, not where we are, or where we shall go.

Blogging is not in our human nature.
It is in our new souls.

So my answer.

Our 'nature' is only the frame around which humanity was constructed.
Our minds are what makes the finished article.
And that's worth something.

Check out the blogger in question. Nuts, obviously, but a heart of gold. She is called (accurately) Ubermouth and is on the blogroll.

A Leak I didn't get from Dolly Draper

For those of you who like a bit of gossip, here's a bit.

It concerns Our Dearly beloved Leaders.

One of whom apparently, is a bit of a Benny Hill writ large. (For the benefit of non-UK readers, I mean a sex pest).

Now you didn't hear it from me. I was told by a man named Guthrum that a man named Raedwald had told HIM, that he knew...

That it might NOT be Jack Straw.
I'm not saying it might.
I'm just saying it might not be Jack Straw.

Here's your Your Chance to Vote on Something REAL

I have to plead guilty to what I must admit, I do see as a pretty serious moral offence.

Theft of Intellectual Property.

Wrong when Archer did it for his tacky stories, wrong when people try to evade paying artists their royalties, etc, but what the Hell, can't always practise what you preach.

So I have purloined an idea from Mr Higham, who runs a much more highbrow blog than this at Nourishing Obscurity (see blograll).
Mr Higham however, is a generous soul and no doubt likes to see good ideas spread, so I feel forgiven already. So have your say.

The question is, is the whole democracy business actually a very poor joke?

We choose the winning team every year from effectively two and a half choices, but membership of the leading council of either team is strictly vetted. And as I say, what other choices are there?

And the same people who pay for the TV commercials that about Thirty Million people in this country stare vacantly at every night, also bankroll these teams.

If they can get more people to vote in Big Brother than on the issue 'Who governs?', that in itself speaks volumes.

True Democracy has no need of political parties..

So.

Have your say.

Positive Thinking

Well, I'm actually quite tired today.
And it's partly Nietzche's fault.
But there were human elements to blame too.

The great thing about the internet is the freeflow exchange of ideas which allows us to assimilate information and other worldviews than the ones the Powers that be want you to see.

There are some people round here who are a lot more on the ball than you might think. There are some real philosophers out there who hide their light under a bushel. They know who they are.
But they're just not telling you yet.

Some of them have yet to shake off their pessimistic fears for the future and simply realise that the grim forcast they forsee, will, I agree, come to pass. But it will only be a passing phase, the death throes of our decaying socio-political economic model.
Human spirit is too strong to allow us to sink into corporate mind control for long.

So have faith that we SHALL get to a better place and it is those of us who choose to debate the future of man seriously that carry the torch of mankind's hopes through a dark period in man's intellectual development.

There is cause for hope, if you know where to look.
In yourselves.

No Nietzche today, just my answer to the grim future some here think will last forever.

From Marx and Engels;
Finally, in times when the class struggle nears the decisive hour, the progress of dissolution going on within the ruling class, in fact within the whole range of old society, assumes such a violent, glaring character, that a small section of the ruling class cuts itself adrift, and joins the revolutionary class, the class that holds the future in its hands. Just as, therefore, at an earlier period, a section of the nobility went over to the bourgeoisie, so now a portion of the bourgeoisie goes over to the proletariat, and in particular, a portion of the bourgeois ideologists, who have raised themselves to the level of comprehending theoretically the historical movement as a whole.

Of all the classes that stand face to face with the bourgeoisie today, the proletariat alone is a really revolutionary class. The other classes decay and finally disappear in the face of Modern Industry; the proletariat is its special and essential product.

The lower middle class, the small manufacturer, the shopkeeper, the artisan, the peasant, all these fight against the bourgeoisie, to save from extinction their existence as fractions of the middle class. They are therefore not revolutionary, but conservative. Nay more, they are reactionary, for they try to roll back the wheel of history. If by chance, they are revolutionary, they are only so in view of their impending transfer into the proletariat; they thus defend not their present, but their future interests, they desert their own standpoint to place themselves at that of the proletariat.

The “dangerous class”, [lumpenproletariat] the social scum, that passively rotting mass thrown off by the lowest layers of the old society, may, here and there, be swept into the movement by a proletarian revolution; its conditions of life, however, prepare it far more for the part of a bribed tool of reactionary intrigue.

In the condition of the proletariat, those of old society at large are already virtually swamped. The proletarian is without property; his relation to his wife and children has no longer anything in common with the bourgeois family relations; modern industry labour, modern subjection to capital, the same in England as in France, in America as in Germany, has stripped him of every trace of national character. Law, morality, religion, are to him so many bourgeois prejudices, behind which lurk in ambush just as many bourgeois interests.

All the preceding classes that got the upper hand sought to fortify their already acquired status by subjecting society at large to their conditions of appropriation. The proletarians cannot become masters of the productive forces of society, except by abolishing their own previous mode of appropriation, and thereby also every other previous mode of appropriation. They have nothing of their own to secure and to fortify; their mission is to destroy all previous securities for, and insurances of, individual property.

All previous historical movements were movements of minorities, or in the interest of minorities. The proletarian movement is the self-conscious, independent movement of the immense majority, in the interest of the immense majority. The proletariat, the lowest stratum of our present society, cannot stir, cannot raise itself up, without the whole superincumbent strata of official society being sprung into the air.

Though not in substance, yet in form, the struggle of the proletariat with the bourgeoisie is at first a national struggle. The proletariat of each country must, of course, first of all settle matters with its own bourgeoisie.

In depicting the most general phases of the development of the proletariat, we traced the more or less veiled civil war, raging within existing society, up to the point where that war breaks out into open revolution, and where the violent overthrow of the bourgeoisie lays the foundation for the sway of the proletariat.

Hitherto, every form of society has been based, as we have already seen, on the antagonism of oppressing and oppressed classes. But in order to oppress a class, certain conditions must be assured to it under which it can, at least, continue its slavish existence. The serf, in the period of serfdom, raised himself to membership in the commune, just as the petty bourgeois, under the yoke of the feudal absolutism, managed to develop into a bourgeois. The modern labourer, on the contrary, instead of rising with the process of industry, sinks deeper and deeper below the conditions of existence of his own class. He becomes a pauper, and pauperism develops more rapidly than population and wealth. And here it becomes evident, that the bourgeoisie is unfit any longer to be the ruling class in society, and to impose its conditions of existence upon society as an over-riding law. It is unfit to rule because it is incompetent to assure an existence to its slave within his slavery, because it cannot help letting him sink into such a state, that it has to feed him, instead of being fed by him. Society can no longer live under this bourgeoisie, in other words, its existence is no longer compatible with society.

The essential conditions for the existence and for the sway of the bourgeois class is the formation and augmentation of capital; the condition for capital is wage-labour. Wage-labour rests exclusively on competition between the labourers. The advance of industry, whose involuntary promoter is the bourgeoisie, replaces the isolation of the labourers, due to competition, by the revolutionary combination, due to association. The development of Modern Industry, therefore, cuts from under its feet the very foundation on which the bourgeoisie produces and appropriates products. What the bourgeoisie therefore produces, above all, are its own grave-diggers. Its fall and the victory of the proletariat are equally inevitable.

I don't agree with this taken literally word for word, as I think the term proletariet has little meaning today. But replace bourgeois for global corporations and proletariet for the rest of us and then I think you can see that what is described is where we are today.

So cheer up.
Their day is almost done.

A Night for Reflection

Last night I had a very interesting conversation which gave me cause for reflection on many issues.

Such conversations are rare.
Indeed they are one of the real pleasures in life.

The girl in question really made me reassess my life values and what I want out of my life and what my vision of the future is, or should be.

So I am thoughtful today, soaking in a long night of thought exchange, which I believe will lead to further enlightenment of my inner reasoning.

A night well spent.

A Different Theme, but Still Nietzche

While Zarathrustra has a little sleep and recovers from being so wise, Here's an idea of how Nietzche viewed Good and Evil. It may make some people from uncomfortable, but any intelligent person who read would have to admit, there is nothing in what Nietzche said that leads to the hostility his views on ethics often receives.

From 'The Genealogy of Morals'

Now, first of all, it’s obvious to me that from this theory the origin of the idea “good” has been sought for and established in the wrong place: the judgment “good” did not move here from those to whom “goodness” was shown! It is much more that case that the “good people” themselves, that is, the noble, powerful, higher-ranking, and higher-thinking people felt and set themselves and their actions up as good, that is to say, of the first rank, in contrast to everything low, low-minded, common, and vulgar. From this pathos of distance they first arrogated to themselves the right to create values, to stamp out the names for values. What did they care about usefulness!

In relation to such a hot pouring out of the highest rank-ordering, rank-setting judgments of value, the point of view which considers utility is as foreign and inappropriate as possible. Here the feeling has reached the opposite of that low level of warmth which is a condition for that calculating shrewdness, that calculation by utility—and not just for a moment, not for an exceptional hour, but permanently. The pathos of nobility and distance, as mentioned, the lasting and domineering feeling, something total and complete, of a higher ruling nature in relation to a lower nature, to a “beneath”—that is the origin of the opposition between “good” and “bad.” (The right of the master to give names extends so far that we could permit ourselves to grasp the origin of language itself as an expression of the power of the rulers: they say “that is such and such,” seal every object and event with a sound and, in the process, as it were, take possession of it.)

Given this origin, the word “good” was not in any way necessarily tied up with “unegoistic” actions, as it is in the superstitions of those genealogists of morality. Rather, that occurs for the first time with the collapse of aristocratic value judgments, when this entire contrast between “egoistic” and “unegoistic” pressed itself ever more strongly into human awareness—it is, to use my own words, the instinct of the herd which, through this contrast, finally gets its word (and its words). And even so, it took a long time until this instinct in the masses became master, with the result that moral evaluation got thoroughly hung up and bogged down on this opposition (as is the case, for example, in modern Europe: today the prejudice that takes “moralistic,” “unegoistic,” and “désintéressé” [disinterested] as equally valuable ideas already governs, with the force of a “fixed idea” and a disease of the brain).


Secondly, however, and quite separate from the fact that this hypothesis about the origin of the value judgment “good” is historically untenable, it suffers from an inherent psychological contradiction. The utility of the unegoistic action is supposed to be the origin of the praise it receives, and this origin has allegedly been forgotten: but how is this forgetting even possible? Could the usefulness of such actions at some time or other perhaps just have stopped? The case is the opposite: this utility has rather been an everyday experience throughout the ages, and thus something that has always been constantly re-emphasized. Hence, instead of disappearing out of consciousness, instead of becoming something forgettable, it must have pressed itself into the consciousness with ever-increasing clarity.

How much more sensible is the contrasting theory (which is not therefore closer to the truth), for example, the one which is advocated by Herbert Spencer: he proposes that the idea “good” is essentially the same as the idea “useful” or “functional,” so that in judgments about “good” and “bad” human beings sum up and endorse the experiences they have not forgotten and cannot forget concerning the useful-functional and the harmful-useless. According to this theory, good is something which has always proved useful, so that it may assert its validity as “valuable in the highest degree” or as “valuable in itself.” This path to an explanation is, as mentioned, also false, but at least the account itself is sensible and psychologically tenable.

My favourite of all Nietzche's works. Some of it can have uncomfortable overtones if one sees it through the prism of 1933, but we need to break free of that.

It's like viewing Jesus through the Inquisition.

By Popular Demand

Well, maybe that's a slight overstatement.

Not quite popular demand, but anyway there were requests or one anyway, to hear what happened to Zarathrustra next.

Like Jackanory isn't it?
Are we all tucked in?

Then, however, something happened which made every mouth mute and
every eye fixed. In the meantime, of course, the rope-dancer had
commenced his performance: he had come out at a little door, and was
going along the rope which was stretched between two towers, so that
it hung above the market-place and the people. When he was just midway
across, the little door opened once more, and a gaudily-dressed fellow
like a buffoon sprang out, and went rapidly after the first one. "Go
on, halt-foot," cried his frightful voice, "go on, lazy-bones,
interloper, sallow-face!- lest I tickle thee with my heel! What dost
thou here between the towers? In the tower is the place for thee, thou
shouldst be locked up; to one better than thyself thou blockest the
way!"- And with every word he came nearer and nearer the first one.
When, however, he was but a step behind, there happened the
frightful thing which made every mouth mute and every eye fixed- he
uttered a yell like a devil, and jumped over the other who was in
his way. The latter, however, when he thus saw his rival triumph, lost
at the same time his head and his footing on the rope; he threw his
pole away, and shot downward faster than it, like an eddy of arms
and legs, into the depth. The market-place and the people were like
the sea when the storm cometh on: they all flew apart and in disorder,
especially where the body was about to fall.
Zarathustra, however, remained standing, and just beside him fell
the body, badly injured and disfigured, but not yet dead. After a
while consciousness returned to the shattered man, and he saw
Zarathustra kneeling beside him. "What art thou doing there?" said
he at last, "I knew long ago that the devil would trip me up. Now he
draggeth me to hell: wilt thou prevent him?"
"On mine honour, my friend," answered Zarathustra, "there is nothing
of all that whereof thou speakest: there is no devil and no hell.
Thy soul will be dead even sooner than thy body; fear, therefore,
nothing any more!"
The man looked up distrustfully. "If thou speakest the truth,"
said he, "I lose nothing when I lose my life. I am not much more
than an animal which hath been taught to dance by blows and scanty
fare."
"Not at all," said Zarathustra, "thou hast made danger thy
calling; therein there is nothing contemptible. Now thou perishest
by thy calling: therefore will I bury thee with mine own hands."
When Zarathustra had said this the dying one did not reply
further; but he moved his hand as if he sought the hand of Zarathustra
in gratitude.


Meanwhile the evening came on, and the market-place veiled itself in
gloom. Then the people dispersed, for even curiosity and terror become
fatigued. Zarathustra, however, still sat beside the dead man on the
ground, absorbed in thought: so he forgot the time. But at last it
became night, and a cold wind blew upon the lonely one. Then arose
Zarathustra and said to his heart:
Verily, a fine catch of fish hath Zarathustra made to-day! It is not
a man he hath caught, but a corpse.
Sombre is human life, and as yet without meaning: a buffoon may be
fateful to it.
I want to teach men the sense of their existence, which is the
Superman, the lightning out of the dark cloud- man.
But still am I far from them, and my sense speaketh not unto their
sense. To men I am still something between a fool and a corpse.
Gloomy is the night, gloomy are the ways of Zarathustra. Come,
thou cold and stiff companion! I carry thee to the place where I shall
bury thee with mine own hands.

And we'll find out what happened to Zarathrustra another day.

Hammering a Point Home about a Great Thinker.

I've thought about it and realised I need to show you a bit more of how great Nietzche is, how he truly does challenge your preconceptions on society, political (thought control) systems and life generally.

Nietzche is not for the faint hearted, or those who want to see the world through rose tinted spectacles.
But then those poor deluded fools are just cannon fodder for the Big Brother culture and the mind control of our dear leaders.
Nietzche would have hated that.

Sometimes Nietzche can be like a snap in the face.
He says the things you thought at the back of your head and wondered if anyone dared to say it. Well, he does that.
He's like the man who doesn't see why he shouldn't mention the war.
He is the man who tells the Big Issue seller to get a job.
He is the man who would have dared to say the day of Diana's funeral 'The world has gone mad.'

But he is the man most of the time who says 'Why SHOULDN'T we?' to life.

Nietzche believed that mankind have a beautiful future ahead of us. He believed that realising that we evolved from animals didn't mean we should see ourselves as the same. He thought we should look at how far we had come and aspire to go further. If we had made it from animal to man, we could make it from man to god.

And why not?
Nietzche is about man putting faith in man.

Not in ALL men, but in the greatness that reveals itself in a few.
If you can get your head around Nietzche, If you find yourself one of those he was talking to, you will find yourself much more optimistic about humanity and love your world a lot better.

Unfortunately, not all who have read Nietzche quite got what he meant, but the same goes for many of those who have acted in the name of Jesus Christ, Mohammed and Karl Marx.

So I leave you to meet Nietzche again right where I left you last time, with the rope dancer.

Zarathustra, however, looked at the people and wondered. Then he
spake thus:
Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman- a
rope over an abyss.
A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a dangerous
looking-back, a dangerous trembling and halting.
What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what
is lovable in man is that he is an over-going and a down-going.
I love those that know not how to live except as down-goers, for
they are the over-goers.
I love the great despisers, because they are the great adorers,
and arrows of longing for the other shore.
I love those who do not first seek a reason beyond the stars for
going down and being sacrifices, but sacrifice themselves to the
earth, that the earth of the Superman may hereafter arrive.
I love him who liveth in order to know, and seeketh to know in order
that the Superman may hereafter live. Thus seeketh he his own
down-going.
I love him who laboureth and inventeth, that he may build the
house for the Superman, and prepare for him earth, animal, and
plant: for thus seeketh he his own down-going.
I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is the will to
down-going, and an arrow of longing.
I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for himself, but wanteth
to be wholly the spirit of his virtue: thus walketh he as spirit
over the bridge.
I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination and destiny:
thus, for the sake of his virtue, he is willing to live on, or live no
more.
I love him who desireth not too many virtues. One virtue is more
of a virtue than two, because it is more of a knot for one's destiny
to cling to.
I love him whose soul is lavish, who wanteth no thanks and doth
not give back: for he always bestoweth, and desireth not to keep for
himself.
I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in his favour, and
who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest player?"- for he is willing to
succumb.
I love him who scattereth golden words in advance of his deeds,
and always doeth more than he promiseth: for he seeketh his own
down-going.
I love him who justifieth the future ones, and redeemeth the past
ones: for he is willing to succumb through the present ones.
I love him who chasteneth his God, because he loveth his God: for he
must succumb through the wrath of his God.
I love him whose soul is deep even in the wounding, and may
succumb through a small matter: thus goeth he willingly over the
bridge.
I love him whose soul is so overfull that he forgetteth himself, and
all things are in him: thus all things become his down-going.
I love him who is of a free spirit and a free heart: thus is his
head only the bowels of his heart; his heart, however, causeth his
down-going.
I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by one out of the
dark cloud that lowereth over man: they herald the coming of the
lightning, and succumb as heralds.
Lo, I am a herald of the lightning, and a heavy drop out of the
cloud: the lightning, however, is the Superman.-


When Zarathustra had spoken these words, he again looked at the
people, and was silent. "There they stand," said he to his heart;
"there they laugh: they understand me not; I am not the mouth for
these ears.
Must one first batter their ears, that they may learn to hear with
their eyes? Must one clatter like kettledrums and penitential
preachers? Or do they only believe the stammerer?
They have something whereof they are proud. What do they call it,
that which maketh them proud? Culture, they call it; it distinguisheth
them from the goatherds.
They dislike, therefore, to hear of 'contempt' of themselves. So I
will appeal to their pride.
I will speak unto them of the most contemptible thing: that,
however, is the last man!"
And thus spake Zarathustra unto the people:
It is time for man to fix his goal. It is time for man to plant
the germ of his highest hope.
Still is his soil rich enough for it. But that soil will one day
be poor and exhausted, and no lofty tree will any longer be able to
grow thereon.
Alas! there cometh the time when man will no longer launch the arrow
of his longing beyond man- and the string of his bow will have
unlearned to whizz!
I tell you: one must still have chaos in one, to give birth to a
dancing star. I tell you: ye have still chaos in you.
Alas! There cometh the time when man will no longer give birth to
any star. Alas! There cometh the time of the most despicable man,
who can no longer despise himself.
Lo! I show you the last man.
"What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a
star?"- so asketh the last man and blinketh.
The earth hath then become small, and on it there hoppeth the last
man who maketh everything small. His species is ineradicable like that
of the ground-flea; the last man liveth longest.
"We have discovered happiness"- say the last men, and blink thereby.
They have left the regions where it is hard to live; for they need
warmth. One still loveth one's neighbour and rubbeth against him;
for one needeth warmth.
Turning ill and being distrustful, they consider sinful: they walk
warily. He is a fool who still stumbleth over stones or men!
A little poison now and then: that maketh pleasant dreams. And
much poison at last for a pleasant death.
One still worketh, for work is a pastime. But one is careful lest
the pastime should hurt one.
One no longer becometh poor or rich; both are too burdensome. Who
still wanteth to rule? Who still wanteth to obey? Both are too
burdensome.
No shepherd, and one herd! Everyone wanteth the same; everyone is
equal: he who hath other sentiments goeth voluntarily into the
madhouse.
"Formerly all the world was insane,"- say the subtlest of them,
and blink thereby.
They are clever and know all that hath happened: so there is no
end to their raillery. People still fall out, but are soon reconciled-
otherwise it spoileth their stomachs.
They have their little pleasures for the day, and their little
pleasures for the night, but they have a regard for health.
"We have discovered happiness,"- say the last men, and blink
thereby.-
And here ended the first discourse of Zarathustra, which is also
called "The Prologue", for at this point the shouting and mirth of the
multitude interrupted him. "Give us this last man, O Zarathustra,"-
they called out- "make us into these last men! Then will we make
thee a present of the Superman!" And all the people exulted and
smacked their lips. Zarathustra, however, turned sad, and said to
his heart:
"They understand me not: I am not the mouth for these ears.
Too long, perhaps, have I lived in the mountains; too much have I
hearkened unto the brooks and trees: now do I speak unto them as
unto the goatherds.
Calm is my soul, and clear, like the mountains in the morning. But
they think me cold, and a mocker with terrible jests.
And now do they look at me and laugh: and while they laugh they hate
me too. There is ice in their laughter."

That's pretty much all I have to say about Nietzche. I'm sure he will find his way on to posts again at some point, but if I have got just one person to think again about this much misunderstood genius, I will rest happy tonight.

Of Course the Villa are scared

And with keepers like that, we don't even need to try do we?
Six easy points for the blues.

Why I am A Nietzcheist.

Regular readers will know that I am very much a fan of the philosopher Nietzche. When I discuss Nietzche with people I meet, I get a mixed reaction.

Most look unenlightened by hearing the name. Did he play for Bayern Munich?

A good number look uneasy. Didn't he influence Hitler, they say?

But I always know I've met a kindred spirit when they say 'Nietzche- Yes! The Genealogy of Morals, so direct!'.

Nietzche gave such a message of hope to humanity, a cry to all, that it's great to be human, that we, humanity are far more than we acknowledge. Most other philosophies tell us to despise ourselves, even our new PC doctrines, which tell us we fight too much, use too much fuel, abuse our bodies etc. Nietzche is all about focussing on just how amazing we are and aspiring to do the godlike things that are potential in our species as a whole.

Nietzche is about feeling the strength within and loving beauty for itself.

Yes Hitler got something out of that.
So did Jim Morrison.

But that's enough from me about Nietzche. Hear the man himself.

From 'Thus Spoke Zarathrustra';


When Zarathustra arrived at the nearest town which adjoineth the
forest, he found many people assembled in the market-place; for it had
been announced that a rope-dancer would give a performance. And
Zarathustra spake thus unto the people:
I teach you the Superman. Man is something that is to be
surpassed. What have ye done to surpass man?
All beings hitherto have created something beyond themselves: and ye
want to be the ebb of that great tide, and would rather go back to the
beast than surpass man?
What is the ape to man? A laughing-stock, a thing of shame. And just
the same shall man be to the Superman: a laughing-stock, a thing of
shame.
Ye have made your way from the worm to man, and much within you is
still worm. Once were ye apes, and even yet man is more of an ape than
any of the apes.
Even the wisest among you is only a disharmony and hybrid of plant
and phantom. But do I bid you become phantoms or plants?
Lo, I teach you the Superman!
The Superman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: The
Superman shall he the meaning of the earth!
I conjure you, my brethren, remain true to the earth, and believe
not those who speak unto you of superearthly hopes! Poisoners are
they, whether they know it or not.
Despisers of life are they, decaying ones and poisoned ones
themselves, of whom the earth is weary: so away with them!
Once blasphemy against God was the greatest blasphemy; but God died,
and therewith also those blasphemers. To blaspheme the earth is now
the dreadfulest sin, and to rate the heart of the unknowable higher
than the meaning of the earth!
Once the soul looked contemptuously on the body, and then that
contempt was the supreme thing:- the soul wished the body meagre,
ghastly, and famished. Thus it thought to escape from the body and the
earth.
Oh, that soul was itself meagre, ghastly, and famished; and
cruelty was the delight of that soul!
But ye, also, my brethren, tell me: What doth your body say about
your soul? Is your soul not poverty and pollution and wretched
self-complacency?
Verily, a polluted stream is man. One must be a sea, to receive a
polluted stream without becoming impure.
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that sea; in him can your
great contempt be submerged.
What is the greatest thing ye can experience? It is the hour of
great contempt. The hour in which even your happiness becometh
loathsome unto you, and so also your reason and virtue.
The hour when ye say: "What good is my happiness! It is poverty
and pollution and wretched self-complacency. But my happiness should
justify existence itself!"
The hour when ye say: "What good is my reason! Doth it long for
knowledge as the lion for his food? It is poverty and pollution and
wretched self-complacency!"
The hour when ye say: "What good is my virtue! As yet it hath not
made me passionate. How weary I am of my good and my bad! It is all
poverty and pollution and wretched self-complacency!"
The hour when ye say: "What good is my justice! I do not see that
I am fervour and fuel. The just, however, are fervour and fuel!"
The hour when we say: "What good is my pity! Is not pity the cross
on which he is nailed who loveth man? But my pity is not a
crucifixion."
Have ye ever spoken thus? Have ye ever cried thus? Ah! would that
I had heard you crying thus!
It is not your sin- it is your self-satisfaction that crieth unto
heaven; your very sparingness in sin crieth unto heaven!
Where is the lightning to lick you with its tongue? Where is the
frenzy with which ye should be inoculated?
Lo, I teach you the Superman: he is that lightning, he is that
frenzy!-
When Zarathustra had thus spoken, one of the people called out:
"We have now heard enough of the rope-dancer; it is time now for us
to. see him!" And all the people laughed at Zarathustra. But the
rope-dancer, who thought the words applied to him, began his
performance.

I recommend you read the work in full.
How can that not be a creed for the future?

The Full Return at Last

Broadband is up and running again at Chez Crushed by Ingsoc.

So tonight I will be doing long promised site alterations.

Posts will come later.
But first some long overdue social calls.

The Deleted Comment

I deleted a comment the other day, as some of you will have noticed.

I must say it was heart warming to see that though it clearly been seen by some of you,it was politely ignored. Also you will have realised that I wouldn't have bothered to delete it if it hadn't been corect in it's guess.

I don't like deleting comments and will only do so when they compromise my anonymity to a degree which threatens the life I lead in the world out there. I will never delete a point of view, even if it is about me, as long as the opinion does not contain information which allows the world at large to know who I am, who my friends are, where I work and where I live.

There are some of you who know me by name and I am aware that figure rose slightly the other night, which I regret, but I was a little touched by the respect for my privacy that was shown by those who realised they knew something they were not meant to.

Thankyou.

If I Could Have Any Girl in the World

It would be this one.

Not really interested in her music, but the Almighty excelled himself here.

So now you all know my tastes...

Dogs

I think dogs are one of the best things on the planet.
Dogs are such a positive feature of the world we live in.
If you haven't included them on your list of things that make it all worth it, you should.

It is always a regret to me that, due to work and a social life that involves a fair amount of not being home, having one of my own is just not practical. But it is definitely something I miss.

To me, dogs aren't animals. They occupy a kind of halfway house between us and animalkind. I don't tend to get overemotional about blue whales or tigers, but I get emotional about the Dogs Trust advert. Dogs are like children should be but aren't. Better, because they are furry, cuddly and fun. They love play fights, they love going to sleep in your lap and they make you laugh with the funny things they do.

Furthermore, I maintain that anyone who says that dogs are stupid, or that cats are clever, just has never spent much time with dogs. I have found they behave in a manner which betrays a logic second only to ours. These are tame wolves bred over forty thousand years for their ability to think like us.

Fortunately, I am able to be a surrogate dog owner due to friends who have dogs and the fact that a couple of pubs I frequent have 'pub' dogs. I often find myself with other people's dogs asleep in my lap as I stroke the top of their heads.

I actually believe that people who don't love dogs are flawed people. Dogs are justly called man's best friend.
Certainly I have known dogs I am proud to have called my friends.

Disaster Novels- How do You End Them?

Was listening to War of The worlds last night, specifically the best track on the album, which in my opinion is 'Brave New World'.
As an aside, my friend The Baker laboured for many years under the misapprehension that this was a great album to seduce women to. Myself, I think Sade works a lot better, but I do rate the album.

Anyway,it got me thinking that Wells' ending is possibly the second worst ending to a Sci-Fi novel ever. I reflected that ending it with a handful of men living in the sewers awaiting the rebirth of humanity would have been bleaker, but would have hit harder. The existing ending is a convenient cop out.

I then reflected that this would actually have been dangerously similar as an ending to the worst ending to a Sci-Fi novel, the awful fizzling out of The Day of The Triffids. A truly awful ending, as if Wyndham just couldn't be bothered any more.

It then occurred to me that it is hard to find a good ending to such a story.

Unforseen calamity strikes humanity.
Possible endings;
1. Unforseen event appears to cancel out first unforseen event.
2. No real ending as there is no hope for humanity in such a situation.

Neither can really satisfy, but maybe that's the point. It's not a begining, middle and end kind of story. The begining was the point, the middle was coping with the horror, the end is the whimper afterwards.

I dare say the dinosaurs would have found an ending to a novel which involved a meteor hitting earth and destroying most large reptiles equally unsatisfactory.

Late Response to being Tagged by Delicolor. Sorry.

Catching up with what's been going down in the bloggosphere, I see have been tagged by Shades of Grey.
Remiss of me not to have spotted it, but I plead excess of life issues.
So, things I like about Summer.
1. Having a pint in a pub with a beer garden.
2. Not going to work in the dark.
3. Not getting home in the dark.

I dislike;
1. The heat. I get sunstroke when it gets to about 80 degrees.
2. Constantly feeling randy.
3. Cheesy summer pop music.

Favour passed on to; David Anthony, Phishez Rule, Electro-Kevin. Read it and weep, dudes.

Being Persecuted

I am being subjected to a campaign of textual harrassment.
This might sound amusing, but it's not. I alluded to it in a recent post, but last night it started to get decidedly unpleasant and a little scary.

The text messages accuse me of all sorts of sick perversions and are quite hurtful. I cannot see how I deserve this. I was always very kind to the person concerned and even lent her money- which still has not been repaid.
It is true that elements of my lifestyle do not accord with her ideals, but then again I never lied to her and pretended traditional monogamous relationships were my thing.

I contacted a friend last night and after I forwarded a couple of the messages, she advised contacting the police. This I will not do.
She did say that was part of the problem with what I call 'non-platonic short term friendships'. It needn't be, but I concede that it can cause problems, and you can't always spot the bunny boilers in advance.

I must admit I am now quite freaked out. Advice anyone?

Child of our Times

I am now going to stop updating you all on the ongoing saga of my broadband.
the engineer is coming round, but I think it's better if we don't tempt fate and I promise that the blogroll updates, etc will happen as soon as I can.

Now here is the point that I want to make.

The life we experienced and can remember defines us in quite a narrow sense, far more so than we often appreciate. There is an outlook which pertains to every age group which is defined by that age group. It is the world we grew up in and judged as we first saw it. Sometimes we forget that.
In my case;

I do not remember any other Labour government than this one. I remember Thatcher being there all through my early years, but it was only during the Major government that I was able to understand what was going on.

To me there remains a sense that 'Eastern' countries, such as Poland, Hungary etc are different to the 'free' countries of the west. That Iron curtain that I remember from childhood looms in my conception of the world. The only Soviet leader I remember is Gorby, but I remember his fall vividly and I remember hearing the words Glasznost and Perestroika.

I do not remember the Falklands, but I remember the first gulf war and I remember finding it very exciting.

My primary school had two BBC Micro computers.

I can remember the 80s housing boom, because my old man was on the right side of it.

My childhood TV favourites were Dangermouse, Dungeons and Dragons and Knightmare.

I am too old to have paid tuition fees.

I had transformers, but am too old to have been affected by the Ninja Turtles thing.

My parents recorded the charts every week diligently, until the day Belinda Carlisle made number one. I remember when Stock, Aitken and Waterman ruined the charts.

I am of the E generation. That is a generation which is passing now. I am increasingly conscious of this, conscious that my outlook on life is conditioned by a generation brought up in boom time, that reached adulthood reared on shallow values to use our first votes to elect a charlatan. We have lived through a social sea change. And now we're searching for something more.
We want to find the values we were never given.

Monkey Magic, Monkey Magic.

I'm sorry. Still not quite the Monkey thing. Still singing it regularly. So here he is. He's a happy chappy, whereas right now, I'm still irate, so enjoy his wisdom, rather than mine.

Fight Club

Only one thing I have to say today.
I'm assuming you've all seen Fight Club.

Anyone else feeling up for the whole Project Mayhem thing?

Right now I am.

Maybe Crushed by Ingsoc is my mad alter ego and I don't even know it's me.

Return to sanity pending...

Angry Crushed by Ingsoc

Right. Angry Crushed by Ingsoc on phone last night to moron in India with very little command of English language (calls to BT end in India, why?).
No, I don't want you to tell me thankyou for holding, I just want you to cut to the chase and tell me why my broadband isn't connected.
Tonight at six, he tells me.
It better be.

General mood of annoyance not helped by half baked text messages from possibly most unstable and thought free of girls I have had dalliances with for a long time. I think (hope) that is one nut job I will not hear from again. This, by the way, was the one who fed her cat salmon.

Why is it so hard to find intelligent, broad minded women with a sense of fun who you can actually discuss Nietzche and Darwin with, enjoys experimenting with alternative lifestyles, but also likes to cuddle up on the sofa together?

Still, by tonight you never know, I might ACTUALLY be able to give you the posts I have been saving up and spend some quality time on the net.

A little Classic, Even if the Video is a bit Bizarre

I've noticed that some of you are also fans of New Order, so here's one of the best New Order tracks including strange video.

I'm off work tomorrow, as I shall be watching election results come in tonight. Weekend to be spent on shopping and DIY. I may get a chance to blog before Tuesday, but if not, as I promised, full service will resume then (plus the long overdue site alterations).

I'm not Telling you How to Vote, just Don't Vote Labour.

The good news is this blog will be back to normal service next Tuesday. Good old BT. Anyway, time to just give you an opinion on how to use your electoral prerogative, which most of you in the UK will have the chance to do next Thursday.

Generally, I'm fairly disillusioned with the party political system and I really find myself saying 'A Plague on all your houses', but I think one thing is clear.
It's time we got this bunch of failing no hopers out. We have a chance to show them that we're sick of them even before Brown takes the helm. It's possible a bad enough result in Scotland might kill his chances completely, but that's another matter.

Personally, I would simply say vote tactically wherever you are for whoever gets Labour out. That could Conservative, it could be Liberal Democrat, it could be Green, it could be SNP, it could by Plaid Cymru. They all represent change from what we have and a chance for some real debate to be opened up. I don't really have a problem with either of them, compared to the subtle totalitarianism that is New Labour. I don't believe that either of them are any more sincere, but it is time to open up the channels of real democracy.
Obviously I'd rather you didn't vote for the BNP and suchlike, but that is your choice.

I'd like to see the outcome of the next election as a Tory/LD coalition myself. I think the LDs as coalition partners would ensure the Tories' conversion to true social liberalism, as well as their traditional economic liberalism, would stay more than skin deep, whilst the Tories would be a brake on some of the more bizarre economic ideas of some parts of the Liberal Democrat Party.

I sincerely hope the Scots vote for independence, I think it's time we buried the ghost of the Empire, and I think a Tory/Plaid administration in Wales would be interesting.

But mostly, I just want the people of these isles to say; things obviously couldn't only get better. They haven't.

See you properly again soon.