My mood picked up just enough today for me to attempt some household tasks, I did the laundry and although i hung it out a bit late, it was quite a fine breezy day. So I decide to walk into town, on the way I pop into Billy's to get a snack, there's a bit of a queue, some parents with their kids, you know the sort of thing. So the whole exercise takes a bit longer than it should and by the time I get out of the shop the I notice that, from out of nowhere, the sky has turned ominously cloudy, I decide it would be better to return to take down the washing, as I make my way back the weed blows more briskly and sky gets darker, 50 yds from home the sky opens up and all the shit starts to rain. I pull the laudry from the line as quickly as I can, destroying the pegs in the process -- it rains harder, it took me about 20 seconds to pull the washing from the line during which it went from dampe to soaked.
I'm just so fed up with this shit.
Thursday 30 August 2012
Tuesday 14 August 2012
The Patriot
You'd find it hard to imagine today but I used to be something of a patriot. When I recall the patriot I used to be I don't think of him as naive or blinkered by jingoism, far from it, in fact,I remember him as principled individual with respect for all culture. A funny thing happens when the foundation of secure nationhood rots away from beneath you feet though, you stop thinking of yourself as part of a collective entity, when that happens your individual well-being and ambition become your chief preoccupation. Ceasing to be a patriot must be a gradual process I suppose, in truth if I look back and examine events in detail I think that probably true for me but I chiefly cite one particular period for destroying the faith I had in my nation. That period being the Yugoslavian conflict and my nations concomitant role in that conflict.
One of the misconceptions about propaganda is that it's universally effective. This isn't true as I've tried to explain on several occasions, the latest being a comment to a YT video here, (look for knockoffnigei) only a minority ever fully buy into propaganda. That minority is usually some where below 20% of the general population, the weak-minded and easily lead, maybe that percentage will increase if the population is under unusual stress, desperation breeds weak minds but on whole most people can see though obvious rhetoric. The real strength of propaganda is exercised through its pervasiveness, if a doctrine can seed itself into the media and political life of a nation it has the effect of pacifying opposition, most people don't want to risk airing opinions that seem controversial. In extreme cases this is manifested as moral panic where opposition to a doctrine is suppressed through fear of being ostracised and the threat of concrete sanction.
Such was the case with the war in Yugoslavia, the case for war was almost universally promoted in the media, so much so that anyone examining the period through a historical perspective could be forgiven for assuming that the war received universal approval amongst the British public. This was not the case, whenever the subject was broached in conversation, which was infrequently, the majority of people would tentatively express grave trepidation and concern over the enterprise. Not only did they express opposition or scepticism about the case for war, there was a good deal of awareness of the issues and historical context of the conflict, the very same contextual material that was absent from the media at the time. Of course if anyone who supported the war overheard or was party to such a conversation, some sort of verbal confrontation was likely. Such a confrontation would likely be marked by an aggressive and vociferous attempt to shame dissenters into acquiescing. The weak minded are frequently emboldened by the assurance propaganda affords them, more often than not they're successful in muting opposition, the pacifying effect I mentioned earlier.
So the war continued apace and escalated way beyond anything foreseen by our foolish leaders, no act of hostility seemed beyond justification, the Chinese embassy bombing, the assassination attempt on TV journalists all dismissed with easy platitudes. That's when the patriot in me died, he couldn't take being the baddie, the guy in shiny boots and skull adorned cap. I don't think it was just me either, quite a few people left the country at the time, maybe some were so sick of the shame.
One of the misconceptions about propaganda is that it's universally effective. This isn't true as I've tried to explain on several occasions, the latest being a comment to a YT video here, (look for knockoffnigei) only a minority ever fully buy into propaganda. That minority is usually some where below 20% of the general population, the weak-minded and easily lead, maybe that percentage will increase if the population is under unusual stress, desperation breeds weak minds but on whole most people can see though obvious rhetoric. The real strength of propaganda is exercised through its pervasiveness, if a doctrine can seed itself into the media and political life of a nation it has the effect of pacifying opposition, most people don't want to risk airing opinions that seem controversial. In extreme cases this is manifested as moral panic where opposition to a doctrine is suppressed through fear of being ostracised and the threat of concrete sanction.
Such was the case with the war in Yugoslavia, the case for war was almost universally promoted in the media, so much so that anyone examining the period through a historical perspective could be forgiven for assuming that the war received universal approval amongst the British public. This was not the case, whenever the subject was broached in conversation, which was infrequently, the majority of people would tentatively express grave trepidation and concern over the enterprise. Not only did they express opposition or scepticism about the case for war, there was a good deal of awareness of the issues and historical context of the conflict, the very same contextual material that was absent from the media at the time. Of course if anyone who supported the war overheard or was party to such a conversation, some sort of verbal confrontation was likely. Such a confrontation would likely be marked by an aggressive and vociferous attempt to shame dissenters into acquiescing. The weak minded are frequently emboldened by the assurance propaganda affords them, more often than not they're successful in muting opposition, the pacifying effect I mentioned earlier.
So the war continued apace and escalated way beyond anything foreseen by our foolish leaders, no act of hostility seemed beyond justification, the Chinese embassy bombing, the assassination attempt on TV journalists all dismissed with easy platitudes. That's when the patriot in me died, he couldn't take being the baddie, the guy in shiny boots and skull adorned cap. I don't think it was just me either, quite a few people left the country at the time, maybe some were so sick of the shame.
Friday 3 August 2012
My days as a hypocrite
A few years ago someone I knew died. I went to the funeral service, saw his son his widow noted their grief, saw the unconvincing displays of those few over enthusiastic mourners that are present at most well attended funerals, puzzled at the unspoken animosity that saw his widow exclude his terminally ill mother from the chief mourners and delivered my softly spoken platitudes. I tried hard not to appear too sincere, I hated the man, not an unreasonable hatred either, he was totally despicable. His other 'son' -- adopted when he married his wife, delivered a genuinely tearful eulogy that would have moved me had it been for a worthy man, instead it made want to laugh. Today I think I would laugh, if I were to attend the funeral at all. My hypocrisy at the time was motivated by concerns that no longer apply, the person who's feelings I cared for died a year or so later.
I have occasionally encountered his widow even though I avoid her, but I haven't done so for a while, I think the avoidance has become mutual. Which I'm glad about because, I don't have any affection for either her or her family. I don't like expressing my hatred to those it's directed at, I'm one of those people who're scrupulously polite to people they hate and quarrelsome with those they have affection for. I'm sure some would see that has hypocrisy too but I'm not attempting to deceive, it's just the way I deal with things. This way of expressing hostility does have implications for intimate relationships, women most often mistake a taciturn demeanour for gullibility. It's quite astonishing how, emboldened by this error, their deceit will descend to a level of credulity that would trouble a toddler, It's probably obvious by now that I'm single. Don't get me wrong there, I'm not a crazy misogynist who spurns women as perfidious harpies, I'm just realistic enough to understand that people lie -- quite a lot it seems and that, being male, intimate relations tend to centre around women. I think respect is more important for women where intimacy is concerned, if they think you're gullible respect is impossible and once it's gone there's no motive to temper deceit with any credibility. That's how relationships end, a spiral of mutual disdain, she despises me for my gullibility, I despise her as a hypocrite and liar.
My aversion to hypocricy probably stems from personal history, from an early age, people close to me have liberally exercised their deceit around me. I'm not blameless either, I acquiesced to their lies for my own personal convenience even though I justify it as concern for those I cared for. One regret I have is that I did not express my hatred for one individual more honestly, not with words mind you, with actions. I should have slit his throat while he sat eating supper at the table, now that would have been a good funeral but I think would have been unable to attend, being unavoidably detained elsewhere. Strangely my other chief regret concerns my reluctance to embrace hypocrisy rather than the regret of not expressing myself with honest vigour.
The conversation began innocuously enough even if the question was somewhat incongruous, "What's your religion?" Mina asked me.
"Roman Catholic," I replied, "what about you?"
"Muslim"
"What -- you're a terrorist?" I asked with a feigned ignorance, this was years before 9/11 so although it was still mischievous it was not quite as fatal as would be today.
"No, we're not all the same," Mina's reply left me with my jaw on the floor, I half expected her to burst into tearful indignation. Instead she didn't bat an eye, just replied with the same tone she'd started the conversation, that impressed me. I continued to feign ignorance and Mina patiently proceeded to needlessly enlighten me. Something about the way she spoke and held my attention destroyed the irreverence I'd expressed earlier and I started to feel justifiably ashamed. That shame probably explains the diligence with which I answered her next questions, "Would you convert?"
"Er wha... er no, I don't think I would," If her first question had been incongruous then second was like a train crashing through the wall of building fifty miles from the nearest railway.
She acknowledged my answer with an impassive nod then asked, "Could you tell me why you wouldn't consider converting?"
At first I tried to use the historical reason, you know, the reason why they'd been killing each other across the water, which, to her credit, she seemed to have a good grasp of. She wasn't convinced though, neither was I, so I continued with the real reason. "Conviction," I said, "I don't believe in it, the bible, I think it's rubbish..." I tried my best to explain the significance of religion, how it's a badge for most people and while I'll submit to a label I was born with, I couldn't convert to anything because it would be the rankest hypocrisy.
"Yes, I understand," she nodded and the conversation ended.
I'm a bit thick I suppose and the significance of the conversation was lost on me, it wasn't until a friend who'd witnessed some of it came to me later and offered some clues to what had just gone on. Even then he was a bit vague so it didn't really sink in till some time later.
The worse kind of regret is the kind you feel for something you did or didn't do in the past but know that today, even with all the knowledge you've acquired since, you know you'd do the same thing. It's that way for me with Mina incident, she's the only girl I think of at night when I'm alone all these years later, yet I still wouldn't do the lie for her.
I have occasionally encountered his widow even though I avoid her, but I haven't done so for a while, I think the avoidance has become mutual. Which I'm glad about because, I don't have any affection for either her or her family. I don't like expressing my hatred to those it's directed at, I'm one of those people who're scrupulously polite to people they hate and quarrelsome with those they have affection for. I'm sure some would see that has hypocrisy too but I'm not attempting to deceive, it's just the way I deal with things. This way of expressing hostility does have implications for intimate relationships, women most often mistake a taciturn demeanour for gullibility. It's quite astonishing how, emboldened by this error, their deceit will descend to a level of credulity that would trouble a toddler, It's probably obvious by now that I'm single. Don't get me wrong there, I'm not a crazy misogynist who spurns women as perfidious harpies, I'm just realistic enough to understand that people lie -- quite a lot it seems and that, being male, intimate relations tend to centre around women. I think respect is more important for women where intimacy is concerned, if they think you're gullible respect is impossible and once it's gone there's no motive to temper deceit with any credibility. That's how relationships end, a spiral of mutual disdain, she despises me for my gullibility, I despise her as a hypocrite and liar.
My aversion to hypocricy probably stems from personal history, from an early age, people close to me have liberally exercised their deceit around me. I'm not blameless either, I acquiesced to their lies for my own personal convenience even though I justify it as concern for those I cared for. One regret I have is that I did not express my hatred for one individual more honestly, not with words mind you, with actions. I should have slit his throat while he sat eating supper at the table, now that would have been a good funeral but I think would have been unable to attend, being unavoidably detained elsewhere. Strangely my other chief regret concerns my reluctance to embrace hypocrisy rather than the regret of not expressing myself with honest vigour.
The conversation began innocuously enough even if the question was somewhat incongruous, "What's your religion?" Mina asked me.
"Roman Catholic," I replied, "what about you?"
"Muslim"
"What -- you're a terrorist?" I asked with a feigned ignorance, this was years before 9/11 so although it was still mischievous it was not quite as fatal as would be today.
"No, we're not all the same," Mina's reply left me with my jaw on the floor, I half expected her to burst into tearful indignation. Instead she didn't bat an eye, just replied with the same tone she'd started the conversation, that impressed me. I continued to feign ignorance and Mina patiently proceeded to needlessly enlighten me. Something about the way she spoke and held my attention destroyed the irreverence I'd expressed earlier and I started to feel justifiably ashamed. That shame probably explains the diligence with which I answered her next questions, "Would you convert?"
"Er wha... er no, I don't think I would," If her first question had been incongruous then second was like a train crashing through the wall of building fifty miles from the nearest railway.
She acknowledged my answer with an impassive nod then asked, "Could you tell me why you wouldn't consider converting?"
At first I tried to use the historical reason, you know, the reason why they'd been killing each other across the water, which, to her credit, she seemed to have a good grasp of. She wasn't convinced though, neither was I, so I continued with the real reason. "Conviction," I said, "I don't believe in it, the bible, I think it's rubbish..." I tried my best to explain the significance of religion, how it's a badge for most people and while I'll submit to a label I was born with, I couldn't convert to anything because it would be the rankest hypocrisy.
"Yes, I understand," she nodded and the conversation ended.
I'm a bit thick I suppose and the significance of the conversation was lost on me, it wasn't until a friend who'd witnessed some of it came to me later and offered some clues to what had just gone on. Even then he was a bit vague so it didn't really sink in till some time later.
The worse kind of regret is the kind you feel for something you did or didn't do in the past but know that today, even with all the knowledge you've acquired since, you know you'd do the same thing. It's that way for me with Mina incident, she's the only girl I think of at night when I'm alone all these years later, yet I still wouldn't do the lie for her.
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