Marmite

I’ve previously blogged about my personal paradigm shift where I realised, after a lifetime of worshipping at the altar of logical, predictable, universal science, that science is, in truth, unpredictable and irrational. I explained, “For me to say this is like a Christian turning away from God, a Tory voting Labour, or a once-fun person becoming a vegan.” Well, I’ve recently experienced another shift. This one’s a bit trickier to articulate because I run the risk of angering some environmental campaigners and nature lovers whom I admire immensely as well as those campaigners/lovers I do not. I don’t mind angering the latter lot; in truth, sometimes I go out of my way to anger them because a) I’m bad and b) they’re badder. The alternative to writing this blog, and therefore not angering those I admire, would be to not write it (that statement is an example of me worshipping at the altar of logic), but by choosing not to write it, I’d be self-censoring. According to Wiki, self-censorsh...

I should really have gone out with Hubby the night before his birthday, but it clashed with a Free Speech Union event, so he had to just had to play second fiddle. He sulked, but it was worth it.

I saw a wonderful cartoon in my Facebook feed this morning that, with a bit of tweaking, perfectly illustrates The Guardian, or at least those who swallow it without chewing, and wash it down with a dollop of Private Eye and a squirt of Byline Times .

I can’t believe that Monday was only seven days ago. So much has gone on, gone off and gone down that my diary-cum-organiser – the hard-backed variety that partners with a pen (and Tipp-ex) – is curling at the edges. I’ve had weeks like this before, but what makes this one stand out is that it was so very diverse (I employed different coloured marker pens), productive, fulfilling and good-natured. Almost everything I touched turned to stardust, and everyone with whom I engaged deserves a hug – whether they want one or not. These are just the (different coloured) highlights.

Wow! What a week at the Whitehouse. Zelensky and his Zealots think he was bullied, Trump’s Trumpeters think he’s king, and J D Vance’s Devotees think he was dissed.  What do I think? In the context of just that one showdown-meeting, Vance behaved badly, Zelensky behaved badly, and Trump behaved badly. In the wider context of geo-politics Russia, Ukraine, the EU and America all behaved badly. The UK, under BoJo, did better as far as it went, but with hindsight (a wonderful thing that too many claim is insight and thus are shortsighted), he should have devised a longer-term strategy for Ukraine. Maybe he did and his ‘colleagues’, uncivil servants and the EU shouted him down. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors. And therein lies the rub for the supposed ambushing of the Ukraine President: what transpired before the press conference with Zelensky? Said ambush caught experts and armchair commentators alike by surprise. Furthermore it was clumsily enacted, and the consequences wer...

The Nazis effected countless unconscionable evils during their tenure. One might, therefore, evaluate book-burning as a comparatively minor odious pastime. While this is an accurate description in absolute terms – burning books does not physically harm humans – symbolically, it is a far more sinister and destructive act than the facile throwing of combustibles onto hot coals might suggest.

‘Trump’ can mean to outdo or outflank the opposition. It stands to reason that, to achieve this, an element of surprise is required. I think it’s fair to say that so far, on the question of relations with the EU and Russia (including Ukraine, to whichever evil empire it might succumb) Trump has trumped with a series of surprises.

Does the fact that I started this blog on Valentine’s Day require me to undergo a Freudian analysis? Probably, especially when after reading this you’ll be asking: 1) How many sinking feelings does it take to change a lightbulb? and 2) How many sinking feelings can dance on the head of a pin? Yup. Friday was one of those days that had my heart sink into my stomach, and my feet into the ground up to my knees, several times over, exacerbated by recurring memories – or should I say nightmares – of historic sinking feelings.

I’ve mentioned my gentleman friend, G, before (but not in earshot of Hubby). G’s inspired a few of my blogs, which is a bit strange, given that politically he’s to the left of me (as are most people). But sometimes he comes up with an issue that hasn’t been on my radar, or an argument that’s so clever and insightful, and civilly expressed, I just have to pursue it.

The deed is done, the doer (me) undone. The die is cast. I’ve only just gone an’ effin’ dun it, ’av’n I! Having believed so passionately in October 2023 that it was “ A PhuDder’s life for me ”, I’ve come to realise that, well, actually it isn’t. This week, I submitted a PhD-withdrawal request, which was processed quickly, unnervingly so. A bit like, ‘Get thee from our nunnery’.

Do you remember when we were kids and we’d spend hours catching snowflakes (not the sissy-kind) on our tongues, surrounding parked cars with white snowmen (not a non-white snowperson in sight), making the playground treacherous with ice-slides, throwing snowballs at our friends and cramming snow down the necks of bullies who were targeting the littl’uns?

I thought I’d end 2024 and begin 2025 as ever – mischievously provocative or maliciously incendiary, depending how tetchy you’re feeling. You might consider this blog to espouse minority views, or to be so out-of-court that I should be diagnosed as neurodiverse. In either case, on the altar of Diversity, Equality and Inclusion, my blog should be tolerated, accommodated, widely disseminated and added to the school curriculum. On that note, Happy New Year to:

The Free Speech Union is on the ascendency. They recently crowned Two-tier Keir ‘Free Speech Zero’ of the year, even though he’s only been in power (that is, he’s abused his power) for less than six months. The announcement on LinkedIn was favourably received, apart from one or two gripers accusing the FSU and its rapidly growing membership of being free-speech absolutists, as if that were unquestionably a bad thing, or not speaking out about every single perceived free-speech injustice anywhere in the world.

The list of thankless tasks grows ever longer. It already includes being a farmer, parish clerk, weather forecaster, pot-hole repairer and unfairly maligned, little understood, teeth-permanently-gritted water company executive. To this inauspicious list, I’d like to add another one: Music Director.

Well, whaddya know. Before the ink has dried on my blog about Elon Musk , X restricts one of my posts for “Hateful Conduct”. But which post? There’s no shortage of candidates. Surprisingly, the post X did restrict wasn’t one of my worst; it was a response to a short exchange about the term ‘cis’. 

In one respect, Musk isn’t a very good businessman. He’s haemorrhaging members from X (formally Twitter), including The Guardian , Clifton Suspension Bridge and Elton John. Hmmm. Maybe Musk knows what he’s doing after all. Who wants to be associated with a sealed echo chamber, a brainless entity, and an irrelevant has-been?

To its advocates, socialism aims to improve the lot of the less fortunate. To its critics, socialism is the politics of envy that, in reality, worsens the prospects of the less fortunate; its processes and outcomes include nepotism, control-freakery, deceit, bullying and unkindness. Exhibit A: Starmer Stalin. Exhibit B: history.

Who would have thought that I, anyone, could develop such a vitriolic, pathological hatred of ice. Not dry ice, ice cream, ice crystals, iced cakes, ice bergs, ice rinks … but ice cubes. If I never see another ice cube again, I’ll be deliriously happy, except I’ve got another fortnight to go.

I think it was Richard Littlejohn writing for the Daily Mail who said he wished Britain had a politician who, like Donald Trump, would make us laugh again. Cue lefty outrage. How dare Littlejohn say anything about Trump that’s not insulting. Typical of the Daily Mail to publish it. Trump is a misogynist / convicted felon / dictator / fascist. Anyone who doesn’t hate Trump is a **&£^%$! Don’t even joke about him. Which kinda proves Littlejohn’s point.