Dear Scientists,
When I was relatively sane, I used to read - on a daily basis - the 'Health' page of the Guardian. No more; it upsets me, and, I suspect, many others. After years of dire warnings from you lot about everything from obesity, heart disease, cancer and strokes, you have come up with the astonishing conclusion that people who worry about their health - although quite well - stand a greater chance of suffering from heart disease than people who, shall we say, don't give a flying wossname. A lot of quite - well people do, in fact, now worry about their health, particularly after reading a load of 'doom and gloom' articles from people like you, who should really consider getting proper jobs.
This startling revelation - which was made shortly after the one about the link between cancer and playing marbles, but well before the fascinating study on the benefits of being involved in a road traffic collision - has prompted me to question certain aspects of what you do. The first question must surely be how much it costs for a bunch of white-coated fuckwits to waste everyone's time coming up with crap like this.
The second question centres around why you do it. As far as I can see, the announcement that bacon is linked to some kinds of cancer has had little or no effect on bacon sales (no-one, as far as I know, from Danepak or Walls has suicided following your announcement) which must surely mean that we're all still enjoying the stuff and have ignored you. This has, perhaps understandably, upset a number of pigs, but that's life - or not, in their case of course.
It has been clear ever since we started thinking (around last Friday), that we have to die of something, and the general theory has been that striking a balance between a suicidal tendency to poison ourselves and enjoyment of what, after all, is a realtively short existence, is making the best use of the life we have. If we can get through life without harming others, that is a bonus.
It seems that while heeding your warnings may, in some cases, enable a lucky few to squeeze a few more miserable, cold, months out of life, you have failed to recognize that it's all about quality, and that cheating the Grim Reaper for a few more bowls of gruel or a nut cutlet isn't really the object of the exercise. Actually, I think I recall you telling us that nuts are linked to certain types of cancer, so we'd better stick to the gruel - at least, until next week, when no doubt you will publish shocking new evidence linking gruel to erectile dysfunction.
We have all had friends whose blameless, alcohol, nicotine, and cholesterol - free existences have been cut tragically short years before their time, as we also know others who have drank like fishes, smoked twenty fags a day since the age of twelve, and indulged daily in a full English with a roast for dinner, who have survived into their nineties. Perhaps you could devote your energies to finding out what it is that protects the latter, because if you can find that, it may preclude the former.
Use your abilities to help with important issues like Alzheimer's, and a cure for cancer - although I suspect that both will always be with us, because nobody ever dies of nothing. Parents who feed their children too much of the wrong food - and they do so knowingly - don't need scientists, they need flogging. We all know the dangers of smoking, alcohol, and fatty foods, so leave us alone - or at least treat us like adults. If we abide by your warnings, this already unhappy world will become even more unhappy. Why, take away all our enjoyment, and we'll all be on drugs.
And they're bad for you, you know.
Saturday, 5 November 2016
Isn't Science Wonderful?
Dear Scientists,
When I was relatively sane, I used to read - on a daily basis - the 'Health' page of the Guardian. No more; it upsets me, and, I suspect, many others. After years of dire warnings from you lot about everything from obesity, heart disease, cancer and strokes, you have come up with the astonishing conclusion that people who worry about their health - although quite well - stand a greater chance of suffering from heart disease than people who, shall we say, don't give a flying wossname. A lot of quite - well people do, in fact, now worry about their health, particularly after reading a load of 'doom and gloom' articles from people like you, who should really consider getting proper jobs.
This startling revelation - which was made shortly after the one about the link between cancer and playing marbles, but well before the fascinating study on the benefits of being involved in a road traffic collision - has prompted me to question certain aspects of what you do. The first question must surely be how much it costs for a bunch of white-coated fuckwits to waste everyone's time coming up with crap like this.
The second question centres around why you do it. As far as I can see, the announcement that bacon is linked to some kinds of cancer has had little or no effect on bacon sales (no-one, as far as I know, from Danepak or Walls has suicided following your announcement) which must surely mean that we're all still enjoying the stuff and have ignored you. This has, perhaps understandably, upset a number of pigs, but that's life - or not, in their case of course.
It has been clear ever since we started thinking (around last Friday), that we have to die of something, and the general theory has been that striking a balance between a suicidal tendency to poison ourselves and enjoyment of what, after all, is a realtively short existence, is making the best use of the life we have. If we can get through life without harming others, that is a bonus.
It seems that while heeding your warnings may, in some cases, enable a lucky few to squeeze a few more miserable, cold, months out of life, you have failed to recognize that it's all about quality, and that cheating the Grim Reaper for a few more bowls of gruel or a nut cutlet isn't really the object of the exercise. Actually, I think I recall you telling us that nuts are linked to certain types of cancer, so we'd better stick to the gruel - at least, until next week, when no doubt you will publish shocking new evidence linking gruel to erectile dysfunction.
We have all had friends whose blameless, alcohol, nicotine, and cholesterol - free existences have been cut tragically short years before their time, as we also know others who have drank like fishes, smoked twenty fags a day since the age of twelve, and indulged daily in a full English with a roast for dinner, who have survived into their nineties. Perhaps you could devote your energies to finding out what it is that protects the latter, because if you can find that, it may preclude the former.
Use your abilities to help with important issues like Alzheimer's, and a cure for cancer - although I suspect that both will always be with us, because nobody ever dies of nothing. Parents who feed their children too much of the wrong food - and they do so knowingly - don't need scientists, they need flogging. We all know the dangers of smoking, alcohol, and fatty foods, so leave us alone - or at least treat us like adults. If we abide by your warnings, this already unhappy world will become even more unhappy. Why, take away all our enjoyment, and we'll all be on drugs.
And they're bad for you, you know.
When I was relatively sane, I used to read - on a daily basis - the 'Health' page of the Guardian. No more; it upsets me, and, I suspect, many others. After years of dire warnings from you lot about everything from obesity, heart disease, cancer and strokes, you have come up with the astonishing conclusion that people who worry about their health - although quite well - stand a greater chance of suffering from heart disease than people who, shall we say, don't give a flying wossname. A lot of quite - well people do, in fact, now worry about their health, particularly after reading a load of 'doom and gloom' articles from people like you, who should really consider getting proper jobs.
This startling revelation - which was made shortly after the one about the link between cancer and playing marbles, but well before the fascinating study on the benefits of being involved in a road traffic collision - has prompted me to question certain aspects of what you do. The first question must surely be how much it costs for a bunch of white-coated fuckwits to waste everyone's time coming up with crap like this.
The second question centres around why you do it. As far as I can see, the announcement that bacon is linked to some kinds of cancer has had little or no effect on bacon sales (no-one, as far as I know, from Danepak or Walls has suicided following your announcement) which must surely mean that we're all still enjoying the stuff and have ignored you. This has, perhaps understandably, upset a number of pigs, but that's life - or not, in their case of course.
It has been clear ever since we started thinking (around last Friday), that we have to die of something, and the general theory has been that striking a balance between a suicidal tendency to poison ourselves and enjoyment of what, after all, is a realtively short existence, is making the best use of the life we have. If we can get through life without harming others, that is a bonus.
It seems that while heeding your warnings may, in some cases, enable a lucky few to squeeze a few more miserable, cold, months out of life, you have failed to recognize that it's all about quality, and that cheating the Grim Reaper for a few more bowls of gruel or a nut cutlet isn't really the object of the exercise. Actually, I think I recall you telling us that nuts are linked to certain types of cancer, so we'd better stick to the gruel - at least, until next week, when no doubt you will publish shocking new evidence linking gruel to erectile dysfunction.
We have all had friends whose blameless, alcohol, nicotine, and cholesterol - free existences have been cut tragically short years before their time, as we also know others who have drank like fishes, smoked twenty fags a day since the age of twelve, and indulged daily in a full English with a roast for dinner, who have survived into their nineties. Perhaps you could devote your energies to finding out what it is that protects the latter, because if you can find that, it may preclude the former.
Use your abilities to help with important issues like Alzheimer's, and a cure for cancer - although I suspect that both will always be with us, because nobody ever dies of nothing. Parents who feed their children too much of the wrong food - and they do so knowingly - don't need scientists, they need flogging. We all know the dangers of smoking, alcohol, and fatty foods, so leave us alone - or at least treat us like adults. If we abide by your warnings, this already unhappy world will become even more unhappy. Why, take away all our enjoyment, and we'll all be on drugs.
And they're bad for you, you know.
Tuesday, 18 October 2016
That Damned Banana
The rather facetious title refers to one of the most controversial buildings in Colchester - if not the most contoversial. It is the building known previously as the Visual Arts Centre, or VAC, and now as Firstsite, or, locally, "that bloody monstrous waste of money". This is no ordinary building, being unusual in form, to say the least, and containing exhibits ranging from a fine Roman mosaic to works of modern art, a title carefully-chosen, as it's the opinion of many that referring to them as 'modern works of art' might imbue them with an integrity that the average Colcestrian does not consider they merit.
Reviews of this golden splendour vary as much as people's taste, as one would expect, and range from "Wow!" (by which I assume that the reviewer liked it) to someone who gave it one star because at least the toilets were clean - this may not seem remarkable to you if you do not live in Colchester. One gentleman who visited noted that one of the art exhibits was a range of sex-toys, which seems rather questionable if you've taken the kids along. Whilst acknowledging that dildos and butt-plugs may have their place in the bedroom (although I believe there is some confusion over the exact location of the place), it seems strange that they can be described as objets d'art, given their intended use and ultimate destination. Although an adjacent pile of rubble separated by mirrors clearly cannot compete with the dildos, it's still unclear as to its significance.
Apparently, it's a "child-friendly place"; well, of course it is, there's nothing like a few sex-toys around the place to give it that family-friendly atmosphere, is there? Admission is free, and there is a cafe, but you could say the same about Dunwich, most of which fell into the sea in the 14th century. The exterior of the building is golden in colour, and looks rather assymetrical. People have likened it to a listing boat, or - perhaps unkindly - as a big, gold, allotment shed that's falling over. It is certainly not to everyone's taste, and the townspeople are still incredulous at the £25 million it cost. Its Uruguayan architect christened it 'The Golden Banana', although many Colcestrians feel it's more of a 'White Elephant'.
The 'Telegraph' commented that the building didn't want to be part of the town, but rather to talk down to it from a height, and this is in line with the general thinking in Colchester. It is very stongly felt that we are being sneered at, that this is an expensive piece of architectural and artistic snobbery that we are not ready for, couldn't afford, and didn't want. It does not fit in Britain's oldest recorded town, and there were other venues more in keeping with what the planners have left of Colchester, than any bloody Uruguayan-inspired banana, whatever colour it is.
It has struggled since it opened, and a panic-stricken Council, trying to save face, have injected huge amounts of cash into it - sometimes, it is said, at the expense of more worthy causes. We had all said, at the outset, that we didn't want it, and many were the suggestions of what a spare 25 million quid could be spent on. Not one of them mentioned an art gallery, but the words 'hospital', 'doctor', and 'the elderly' popped up quite a lot. Of course, it was argued that all these things were funded from a different pot, and - as this money was in the pot marked 'Let's Be Bloody Silly With Tax-Payer's Money' - why not have an art gallery? That should get rid of the cash a treat. It is, at the moment, still attracting a few visitors, most of whom take approximately 25 minutes to not understand it, and then leave, muttering.
It looks better from my bedroom window in the summer, because it is hidden from view by trees, but I doubt it will be long before the planners get rid of them, too. I am, I'm afraid, a follower of Sir Peter Scott's description of art; "One instinctively knows", he said, "if one has hung one of my paintings upside-down".
Indeed.
Reviews of this golden splendour vary as much as people's taste, as one would expect, and range from "Wow!" (by which I assume that the reviewer liked it) to someone who gave it one star because at least the toilets were clean - this may not seem remarkable to you if you do not live in Colchester. One gentleman who visited noted that one of the art exhibits was a range of sex-toys, which seems rather questionable if you've taken the kids along. Whilst acknowledging that dildos and butt-plugs may have their place in the bedroom (although I believe there is some confusion over the exact location of the place), it seems strange that they can be described as objets d'art, given their intended use and ultimate destination. Although an adjacent pile of rubble separated by mirrors clearly cannot compete with the dildos, it's still unclear as to its significance.
Apparently, it's a "child-friendly place"; well, of course it is, there's nothing like a few sex-toys around the place to give it that family-friendly atmosphere, is there? Admission is free, and there is a cafe, but you could say the same about Dunwich, most of which fell into the sea in the 14th century. The exterior of the building is golden in colour, and looks rather assymetrical. People have likened it to a listing boat, or - perhaps unkindly - as a big, gold, allotment shed that's falling over. It is certainly not to everyone's taste, and the townspeople are still incredulous at the £25 million it cost. Its Uruguayan architect christened it 'The Golden Banana', although many Colcestrians feel it's more of a 'White Elephant'.
The 'Telegraph' commented that the building didn't want to be part of the town, but rather to talk down to it from a height, and this is in line with the general thinking in Colchester. It is very stongly felt that we are being sneered at, that this is an expensive piece of architectural and artistic snobbery that we are not ready for, couldn't afford, and didn't want. It does not fit in Britain's oldest recorded town, and there were other venues more in keeping with what the planners have left of Colchester, than any bloody Uruguayan-inspired banana, whatever colour it is.
It has struggled since it opened, and a panic-stricken Council, trying to save face, have injected huge amounts of cash into it - sometimes, it is said, at the expense of more worthy causes. We had all said, at the outset, that we didn't want it, and many were the suggestions of what a spare 25 million quid could be spent on. Not one of them mentioned an art gallery, but the words 'hospital', 'doctor', and 'the elderly' popped up quite a lot. Of course, it was argued that all these things were funded from a different pot, and - as this money was in the pot marked 'Let's Be Bloody Silly With Tax-Payer's Money' - why not have an art gallery? That should get rid of the cash a treat. It is, at the moment, still attracting a few visitors, most of whom take approximately 25 minutes to not understand it, and then leave, muttering.
It looks better from my bedroom window in the summer, because it is hidden from view by trees, but I doubt it will be long before the planners get rid of them, too. I am, I'm afraid, a follower of Sir Peter Scott's description of art; "One instinctively knows", he said, "if one has hung one of my paintings upside-down".
Indeed.
Saturday, 1 October 2016
A Letter to America
Dear America,
I don't often write letters that contain advice, chiefly because other people's always seems so much better, and seldom do I write letters that plead, because our generation was brought up never to plead for anything, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and rarely have you had such desperate times. We over here don't like to see this.
I have always rather liked your countrymen, and, although I've never visited you, have always been fascinated by you. Us English (sorry, I mean British!), are a rather reserved bunch, not given to displays of emotion, or indeed, displays of anything else. Many in this country believe the Americans to be brash, loud, and impulsive. By our rather narrow standards of aloofness, that may have a grain of truth in it, but I have also found them to be warm, friendly, open, and easy-going, even if they do have an alarming propensity for getting involved in very messy little wars.
You may recall that we had a messy little war ourselves between 1939 and 1945, and despite the taunts of being "over-sexed, overpaid, and over here" most British people remember with gratitude the assistance and sacrifices of ordinary Americans. I am mindful of the fact that about 47,000 of your young men became casualties flying from "this sceptred isle", of which 26,000 lost their lives; that is a very humbling thought. Just in case you thought we'd forgotten - we haven't.
It was, therefore, with great sadness that I read of the difficulties you are encountering with this Presidential Election of yours. It seems - as is so often the case - that the candidates you have ended up with are not really the people your great American public wants or likes. We in Britain can empathise with that, because, believe me, we've had our share. However, I do feel that our John Majors and Gordon Browns - and, yes, even Tony Blairs - pale into insignificance when compared to a man like Donald Trump.
Now, look, America, I don't want to tell you your business, but I can't, in all honesty, sit here and say nothing. I'd never forgive myself; it wouldn't be right. Where the Hell did you get him from? Can you get a refund? Is, he, in fact, a real person, or some kind of CIA joke we're not getting? This is a man who has been described - with much justification, I might add - as "a narcissistic, bragging, mendacious, ignorant, dangerous demagogue". This is a man who loves everyone except blacks, browns, immigrants, Mexicans, Muslims, and women. The Huffington Post didn't hold back either (especially after he'd attacked the lady who runs it!), calling him "an attention-starved, thin-skinned narcissist", and remarking that his campaign was laden with insults, and built on "bombast, bullying, and false bravado". Then HP really got into it's stride, calling him "a mean-spirited, nasty, and divisive, polarizing, loose-cannon" going on to observe that he was also " a tone-deaf, self-serving entitled meglomaniac and pathological liar". It went on to say - unsurprisingly - that Trump was "fundamentally unqualified to be President", and then topped the whole thing off by saying that it felt the people of America would demand more than just "an angry, crass, impulsive, intolerant, intellectually-bankrupt peddler of negativity and doom". as their next President. I don't think they like him very much.
You've had good, even - some would say - great, Presidents in the past; Roosevelt, Eisenhower, JFK, etc., and some who were mediocre, like Johnson, Bush and co., and, admittedly, Nixon, but you can't be expected to get it right every time. However, there really can be no possible excuse for tolerating a bigot like Trump. Mrs Clinton (the person insultingly referred to by Trump as "Crooked Hillary") may not be the ideal choice, but she is at least capable of running you without offending most of your countrymen and the rest of the world. Do not allow DJT to consign the names of Trump and America to the same historical dustbin as Hitler and the Nazis, because I'm with Huffington; I don't think I like him very much, either.
Raise 'Old Glory', America, and raise it against a man who would destroy you politically, domestically, and internationally. A man who would drag the name of America so deep into the muck of racism, separatism, and blind indifference, that it will take you forever to drag yourself out.
America - dear, larger-than-life, colourful, loud, gung-ho, America - please, I beg of you, do not allow this braying racist to make you a figure of fun. We have a vested interest - he is as dangerous to everyone else as he is to you. You are much, much, better than Donald Trump, America, you deserve much, much, more than Donald Trump.
I hope and pray, from the bottom of my heart, that you get it.
I don't often write letters that contain advice, chiefly because other people's always seems so much better, and seldom do I write letters that plead, because our generation was brought up never to plead for anything, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and rarely have you had such desperate times. We over here don't like to see this.
I have always rather liked your countrymen, and, although I've never visited you, have always been fascinated by you. Us English (sorry, I mean British!), are a rather reserved bunch, not given to displays of emotion, or indeed, displays of anything else. Many in this country believe the Americans to be brash, loud, and impulsive. By our rather narrow standards of aloofness, that may have a grain of truth in it, but I have also found them to be warm, friendly, open, and easy-going, even if they do have an alarming propensity for getting involved in very messy little wars.
You may recall that we had a messy little war ourselves between 1939 and 1945, and despite the taunts of being "over-sexed, overpaid, and over here" most British people remember with gratitude the assistance and sacrifices of ordinary Americans. I am mindful of the fact that about 47,000 of your young men became casualties flying from "this sceptred isle", of which 26,000 lost their lives; that is a very humbling thought. Just in case you thought we'd forgotten - we haven't.
It was, therefore, with great sadness that I read of the difficulties you are encountering with this Presidential Election of yours. It seems - as is so often the case - that the candidates you have ended up with are not really the people your great American public wants or likes. We in Britain can empathise with that, because, believe me, we've had our share. However, I do feel that our John Majors and Gordon Browns - and, yes, even Tony Blairs - pale into insignificance when compared to a man like Donald Trump.
Now, look, America, I don't want to tell you your business, but I can't, in all honesty, sit here and say nothing. I'd never forgive myself; it wouldn't be right. Where the Hell did you get him from? Can you get a refund? Is, he, in fact, a real person, or some kind of CIA joke we're not getting? This is a man who has been described - with much justification, I might add - as "a narcissistic, bragging, mendacious, ignorant, dangerous demagogue". This is a man who loves everyone except blacks, browns, immigrants, Mexicans, Muslims, and women. The Huffington Post didn't hold back either (especially after he'd attacked the lady who runs it!), calling him "an attention-starved, thin-skinned narcissist", and remarking that his campaign was laden with insults, and built on "bombast, bullying, and false bravado". Then HP really got into it's stride, calling him "a mean-spirited, nasty, and divisive, polarizing, loose-cannon" going on to observe that he was also " a tone-deaf, self-serving entitled meglomaniac and pathological liar". It went on to say - unsurprisingly - that Trump was "fundamentally unqualified to be President", and then topped the whole thing off by saying that it felt the people of America would demand more than just "an angry, crass, impulsive, intolerant, intellectually-bankrupt peddler of negativity and doom". as their next President. I don't think they like him very much.
You've had good, even - some would say - great, Presidents in the past; Roosevelt, Eisenhower, JFK, etc., and some who were mediocre, like Johnson, Bush and co., and, admittedly, Nixon, but you can't be expected to get it right every time. However, there really can be no possible excuse for tolerating a bigot like Trump. Mrs Clinton (the person insultingly referred to by Trump as "Crooked Hillary") may not be the ideal choice, but she is at least capable of running you without offending most of your countrymen and the rest of the world. Do not allow DJT to consign the names of Trump and America to the same historical dustbin as Hitler and the Nazis, because I'm with Huffington; I don't think I like him very much, either.
Raise 'Old Glory', America, and raise it against a man who would destroy you politically, domestically, and internationally. A man who would drag the name of America so deep into the muck of racism, separatism, and blind indifference, that it will take you forever to drag yourself out.
America - dear, larger-than-life, colourful, loud, gung-ho, America - please, I beg of you, do not allow this braying racist to make you a figure of fun. We have a vested interest - he is as dangerous to everyone else as he is to you. You are much, much, better than Donald Trump, America, you deserve much, much, more than Donald Trump.
I hope and pray, from the bottom of my heart, that you get it.
Tuesday, 27 September 2016
The Great Presidential Race
So, who will win the race to be President of the United States of America? The Blonde Bully, Donald J Trump, or Hillary, Politican to Her Finger-Tips, Clinton? Who, when push comes to shove, will America vote for?
Last night saw the first round of the debates between the two candidates, with Trump blustering, spluttering, and ranting, and saying nothing new while uttering the same old inaccuracies and half-truths. Clinton, on the other hand, had done her homework, and like the ex-lawyer and consummate politician she is, remained cool, calm, and collected, picking Trump to shreds with mathematical precision. On the face of it, you'd think that Hillary had wrapped it up, wouldn't you? I have my doubts, and I'll tell you why.
Americans are not, in truth, overwhelmed by either of the candidates, but they are who America has ended up with, and one of them is going to be President of the most powerful nation on Earth - or so it's said. And that's the trouble, right there. The Americans have - much like us, I suspect - had enough of politics and politicians, and don't trust Hillary Clinton, basically because she is a very able politician, and an able politician isn't necessarily an honest one. She has a track record of - shall we say - certain mischiefs that I think she's probably wishing would go away right now.
Trump, of course, is inappropriate in every way - he attempts to solve complex problems with simple remedies because he simply doesn't take the time to understand them, never listens to anybody long enough to learn anything, and has a poor memory when it comes to untruths, and professional liars need a good memory. BUT - and it deseves the capitals - Trump's rants mirror the anger and frustration of the American people, because he says the things that the public are thinking. This does not make those opinions right, but he does give the people a voice, albeit an ill-informed one, and he is regarded as a breath of fresh air. A lot of people are prepared to give him a go in the same way as children will stick their fingers in a electric socket to see what happens. "We've had the politicos, lets see what a salesman who talks like us can do" goes the dogma, but, if Trump wins, I fear the electric socket will be far more dangerous than previously thought.
The singer, Cher, when told that Boris Johnson intended to run for Prime Minister, called him "A f***ing idiot", and I'm sure people will be saying the same about Trump, but it is not, in his case, true. Forbes says that Trump's net worth is $4.5 billion, whereas Trump - typically - says it' $10 billion. It matters little, because anyone whose net worth runs into several billion dollars is unlikely to be an idiot of any sort. Clearly, he is a successful businessman, and his fortune is unlikely to have been made by luck alone, but does that qualify him presidentially? Recently, he made - in the course of five hours of remarks - no fewer than eighty-seven erroneous statements. That, for the nit-pickers and rivet-counters among us, is one falsehood every three minutes and fifteen seconds, according to Politico Magazine. He continually mis-handles facts and exaggerates, and - if last night is anything to go by - is talking more and saying less.
So, to answer my own question - No, emphatically, he is not suitable at all, his attitude and ethos is completely wrong, and his aides are going to have breakdowns trying to mask his insults in a wrapping of diplomacy. If he succeeds in his bid, God help America.
And the rest of us!
Last night saw the first round of the debates between the two candidates, with Trump blustering, spluttering, and ranting, and saying nothing new while uttering the same old inaccuracies and half-truths. Clinton, on the other hand, had done her homework, and like the ex-lawyer and consummate politician she is, remained cool, calm, and collected, picking Trump to shreds with mathematical precision. On the face of it, you'd think that Hillary had wrapped it up, wouldn't you? I have my doubts, and I'll tell you why.
Americans are not, in truth, overwhelmed by either of the candidates, but they are who America has ended up with, and one of them is going to be President of the most powerful nation on Earth - or so it's said. And that's the trouble, right there. The Americans have - much like us, I suspect - had enough of politics and politicians, and don't trust Hillary Clinton, basically because she is a very able politician, and an able politician isn't necessarily an honest one. She has a track record of - shall we say - certain mischiefs that I think she's probably wishing would go away right now.
Trump, of course, is inappropriate in every way - he attempts to solve complex problems with simple remedies because he simply doesn't take the time to understand them, never listens to anybody long enough to learn anything, and has a poor memory when it comes to untruths, and professional liars need a good memory. BUT - and it deseves the capitals - Trump's rants mirror the anger and frustration of the American people, because he says the things that the public are thinking. This does not make those opinions right, but he does give the people a voice, albeit an ill-informed one, and he is regarded as a breath of fresh air. A lot of people are prepared to give him a go in the same way as children will stick their fingers in a electric socket to see what happens. "We've had the politicos, lets see what a salesman who talks like us can do" goes the dogma, but, if Trump wins, I fear the electric socket will be far more dangerous than previously thought.
The singer, Cher, when told that Boris Johnson intended to run for Prime Minister, called him "A f***ing idiot", and I'm sure people will be saying the same about Trump, but it is not, in his case, true. Forbes says that Trump's net worth is $4.5 billion, whereas Trump - typically - says it' $10 billion. It matters little, because anyone whose net worth runs into several billion dollars is unlikely to be an idiot of any sort. Clearly, he is a successful businessman, and his fortune is unlikely to have been made by luck alone, but does that qualify him presidentially? Recently, he made - in the course of five hours of remarks - no fewer than eighty-seven erroneous statements. That, for the nit-pickers and rivet-counters among us, is one falsehood every three minutes and fifteen seconds, according to Politico Magazine. He continually mis-handles facts and exaggerates, and - if last night is anything to go by - is talking more and saying less.
So, to answer my own question - No, emphatically, he is not suitable at all, his attitude and ethos is completely wrong, and his aides are going to have breakdowns trying to mask his insults in a wrapping of diplomacy. If he succeeds in his bid, God help America.
And the rest of us!
Wednesday, 21 September 2016
The Trouble With Politics
As ED will tell you, we don't know much about politics. We suspect - rather strongly - that, on more than one occasion, we have been misled, ignored, sneered at, abandoned, or downright conned by politicians of all parties. We are not alone, we know, in our suspicions.
Brexit (that horrible new 'word') is a case in point. As the full import of what has been done in our name sinks in, we all begin to reflect on how we voted. More importantly, was the information we were given by all parties - information upon which, one way or another, we acted - factual, accurate and honest? Or did they all scare us with 'facts' regarding how dreadful life would be if we left/remained in the EU? We decided - albeit by a narrow margin - to leave, and ED and I were disappointed. However, this is a democracy, the people had spoken, and we had better just get on with it, but one is left with the feeling that somehow, whichever way we voted, we are all victims of 'misinformation'. We shall see. One of the unfortunate side effects of the referendum seemed to be the emergence from whichever wet stone they had been hiding under of some singularly unpleasant people - Douglas Carswell and Michael Gove being among the leaders in this field. Then, of course, there were the equally unpleasant people who didn't hide, among whom we noticed particularly that grinning little toad, Nigel Farage, and Boris The Clown.
It was all very messy, with politicians cutting each other's throats in their bids to become PM in ways which would have turned Brutus and Judas Iscariot green with envy. It was fairly obvious, though - even to ED and I - that the Thatcheresque Mrs May was going to carry the day, while Johnson and Gove tried to kill one another. We thought initially that she was the lesser of the three evils, and at least, unlike the Labour Party, she could probably be trusted to find her bum with a map. Imagine, then, our dismay on learning that she had appointed Boris The Blonde Buffoon as Foreign Secretary! Caligula once made his horse a Consul, and we feel that the old Roman, mad as he may have been, had made a wiser choice than Theresa. We'd have happily settled for the horse.
We are not alone in suffering from politicians, of course, and the good 'ole US of A has it's very own mega-version of Boris in that most ghastly of humanoid life-forms, Donald Trump, a man so inappropriate in every way to be President of the most powerful nation on earth, that the mind boggles at the very thought that even one, single, downtrodden and disillusioned, American could ever have considered for one minute nominating him. But nominate him they did, and he has caused no small amount of mischief ever since. That's America for you. When you consider that there existed for a while the possibility of him and Boris being world leaders, there would have been a very good case for reaching for that button before they did.
There is an office in Moscow, very near to the Kremlin, where sits a man who we shall call The Impaler (the clue really is in the name), and he is praying fervently for the success of Herr Trump. He has wrong-footed more capable adversaries than Trump before breakfast, and would welcome a rest. He is politically very astute, is The Impaler, and he is as cunning as he is powerful. He is ex-KGB. Likewise, in the HQs of ISIS and Al-Quaeda, there are banners behind the desks of their leaders, which say - in addition to 'Allahu Akbar' - "Throw Us a Bone - Vote for Trump". Our banner says "Please God, Not Him".
This is the man who would ban an entire religion from emigrating to America, remove rights from the LGB community, and - if the Guardian is to be believed - increase stop and search laws that deliberately target coloured people. He's not big on women having too much say in things, either, and just in case you thought you are safe if you are a white male, it ain't necessarily so. If you are an immigrant with incomplete documentation you could be deported without further ado. So, is he a racist? I can't think of another (polite) word to described what he is saying.
This is also a man who has failed utterly to distinguish between Muslims and terrorists. Muslims are just that; people who belong to the religion of Islam, a religion founded (as are most religions) on a belief in compassion, love, and certain moral values put there to ensure that civilisation is civilised. It has many parallels with other religions, and is not so far removed from our own, except that Muslims seem to be a little more sincere in their beliefs. Terrorists, on the other hand, are a group with murderous intent and hate in their hearts, who hide behind Islam, and perpetrate outrages in its name, thereby trampling over everything good, to the horror of Muslims and others the world over. As the Dalai Lama said recently, "There can be no such thing as a Muslim terrorist, any more than there could be Buddhist or Christian terrorists", he added that terrorism went against the teachings of all religions, and was therefore separate from them., a good point well-made, I feel.
Mr Trump says he knows Muslims who are "wonderful people", and has Muslim friends.
Not for long, I suspect.
When in hole, Mr Trump, stop digging.
Sieg Heil!
Brexit (that horrible new 'word') is a case in point. As the full import of what has been done in our name sinks in, we all begin to reflect on how we voted. More importantly, was the information we were given by all parties - information upon which, one way or another, we acted - factual, accurate and honest? Or did they all scare us with 'facts' regarding how dreadful life would be if we left/remained in the EU? We decided - albeit by a narrow margin - to leave, and ED and I were disappointed. However, this is a democracy, the people had spoken, and we had better just get on with it, but one is left with the feeling that somehow, whichever way we voted, we are all victims of 'misinformation'. We shall see. One of the unfortunate side effects of the referendum seemed to be the emergence from whichever wet stone they had been hiding under of some singularly unpleasant people - Douglas Carswell and Michael Gove being among the leaders in this field. Then, of course, there were the equally unpleasant people who didn't hide, among whom we noticed particularly that grinning little toad, Nigel Farage, and Boris The Clown.
It was all very messy, with politicians cutting each other's throats in their bids to become PM in ways which would have turned Brutus and Judas Iscariot green with envy. It was fairly obvious, though - even to ED and I - that the Thatcheresque Mrs May was going to carry the day, while Johnson and Gove tried to kill one another. We thought initially that she was the lesser of the three evils, and at least, unlike the Labour Party, she could probably be trusted to find her bum with a map. Imagine, then, our dismay on learning that she had appointed Boris The Blonde Buffoon as Foreign Secretary! Caligula once made his horse a Consul, and we feel that the old Roman, mad as he may have been, had made a wiser choice than Theresa. We'd have happily settled for the horse.
We are not alone in suffering from politicians, of course, and the good 'ole US of A has it's very own mega-version of Boris in that most ghastly of humanoid life-forms, Donald Trump, a man so inappropriate in every way to be President of the most powerful nation on earth, that the mind boggles at the very thought that even one, single, downtrodden and disillusioned, American could ever have considered for one minute nominating him. But nominate him they did, and he has caused no small amount of mischief ever since. That's America for you. When you consider that there existed for a while the possibility of him and Boris being world leaders, there would have been a very good case for reaching for that button before they did.
There is an office in Moscow, very near to the Kremlin, where sits a man who we shall call The Impaler (the clue really is in the name), and he is praying fervently for the success of Herr Trump. He has wrong-footed more capable adversaries than Trump before breakfast, and would welcome a rest. He is politically very astute, is The Impaler, and he is as cunning as he is powerful. He is ex-KGB. Likewise, in the HQs of ISIS and Al-Quaeda, there are banners behind the desks of their leaders, which say - in addition to 'Allahu Akbar' - "Throw Us a Bone - Vote for Trump". Our banner says "Please God, Not Him".
This is the man who would ban an entire religion from emigrating to America, remove rights from the LGB community, and - if the Guardian is to be believed - increase stop and search laws that deliberately target coloured people. He's not big on women having too much say in things, either, and just in case you thought you are safe if you are a white male, it ain't necessarily so. If you are an immigrant with incomplete documentation you could be deported without further ado. So, is he a racist? I can't think of another (polite) word to described what he is saying.
This is also a man who has failed utterly to distinguish between Muslims and terrorists. Muslims are just that; people who belong to the religion of Islam, a religion founded (as are most religions) on a belief in compassion, love, and certain moral values put there to ensure that civilisation is civilised. It has many parallels with other religions, and is not so far removed from our own, except that Muslims seem to be a little more sincere in their beliefs. Terrorists, on the other hand, are a group with murderous intent and hate in their hearts, who hide behind Islam, and perpetrate outrages in its name, thereby trampling over everything good, to the horror of Muslims and others the world over. As the Dalai Lama said recently, "There can be no such thing as a Muslim terrorist, any more than there could be Buddhist or Christian terrorists", he added that terrorism went against the teachings of all religions, and was therefore separate from them., a good point well-made, I feel.
Mr Trump says he knows Muslims who are "wonderful people", and has Muslim friends.
Not for long, I suspect.
When in hole, Mr Trump, stop digging.
Sieg Heil!
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