Today's shake: Bourbon Biscuits
Taste: 7
Texture: 5
Synergy: 8
Scorn: 2
Total Score: 7
General Comments: This is going to be one of those shakes about which I can say essentially nothing. All I can tell you is that if it turns out Nesquik make their chocolate shake powder from the dusty remains of long-dead bourbon biscuits, I would no longer be surprised. It's not exactly a bad shake, exactly, though I'm not really a big fan of chocolate flavour treats in general (give me the real deal, that's what I say). It does feel though like I could have spent my money on some Nesquik formula and a pack of bourbon biscuits and have access to both much more milkshake and crunchy biscuit goodness.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
I Am Now Officially Sick Of This Weather
People we like:
C, for coming four miles through Durham to help me dig the car out of the snow;
My neighbour, for getting in on the action.
People we hate:
The woman who walked past whilst we were doing it, and mockingly told me I needed the handbrake off (the handbrake, needless to say, was off already);
Whomever decided the best way to deal with four men digging out cars was to sit in their house and take pictures of us;
People who don't realise slippy roads make stopping and quick maneuvering very difficult. Special mention within this group go to drivers who indicate right before going straight on, forcing me to stop on a hill for no reason, and people who don't realise that just because a road is slightly less slippery than the pavement, it doesn't give them carte blanche to walk along busy roads in conditions where wheel-slippage is a constant possibility. At the very least, you'd think they'd move aside when a car descends upon them. Even if it is a Corsa.
People we are mainly just confused by:
My other neighbour, who helped out as we dug my car out of the road, and then stepped out in front of me as I tried to drive up the hill and onto the main road, forcing me to stop, slip back down the hill, and get stuck again.
I mean, the guy was a real help and all, but WTF?
At any rate, the whole procedure took a mere 95 minutes, and at last I'm in work, all ready to start putting together a program for a meeting with my boss tomorrow, which he has now cancelled, due to snow.
One more thing, too; my home internet is down again. Hopefully we can get it fixed in under two months this time, but we'll have to see.
C, for coming four miles through Durham to help me dig the car out of the snow;
My neighbour, for getting in on the action.
People we hate:
The woman who walked past whilst we were doing it, and mockingly told me I needed the handbrake off (the handbrake, needless to say, was off already);
Whomever decided the best way to deal with four men digging out cars was to sit in their house and take pictures of us;
People who don't realise slippy roads make stopping and quick maneuvering very difficult. Special mention within this group go to drivers who indicate right before going straight on, forcing me to stop on a hill for no reason, and people who don't realise that just because a road is slightly less slippery than the pavement, it doesn't give them carte blanche to walk along busy roads in conditions where wheel-slippage is a constant possibility. At the very least, you'd think they'd move aside when a car descends upon them. Even if it is a Corsa.
People we are mainly just confused by:
My other neighbour, who helped out as we dug my car out of the road, and then stepped out in front of me as I tried to drive up the hill and onto the main road, forcing me to stop, slip back down the hill, and get stuck again.
I mean, the guy was a real help and all, but WTF?
At any rate, the whole procedure took a mere 95 minutes, and at last I'm in work, all ready to start putting together a program for a meeting with my boss tomorrow, which he has now cancelled, due to snow.
One more thing, too; my home internet is down again. Hopefully we can get it fixed in under two months this time, but we'll have to see.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Sign O' The (Cold, Cold) Times
My God, it is freaking freezing here in Durham. It's not as cold as it is out in the surrounding countryside (it dropped below -8C on my drive up on Sunday night), but it could still freeze the nuts off a particularly hirsuite mammoth.
It's difficult to tell scale from these pictures, I know, but trust me, some of these bastards are over eighteen inches long. This shit is cold, y'all.
Witness, as proof, the truly awesome icicles that have appeared outside my kitchen window.
It's difficult to tell scale from these pictures, I know, but trust me, some of these bastards are over eighteen inches long. This shit is cold, y'all.Monday, 4 January 2010
Valid, But Incomplete
Paul Campos offers us the most depressingly cynical explanation possible as to why a man setting his underpants on fire generates more hysteria and concern than almost 50 000 American deaths in the same week:
Of course, that immediately leads us to the question of why people view a terrorist attack as worse than a shooting. That, I suspect, is based in three things. Firstly, in turns of overall damage, an individual successful attack is worse than an individual shooting. Whilst it might seem strange to assume someone who apparently couldn't give two shits that two hundred of his fellow citizens died last week for lack of health-care might be concerned about how many other people die in the event that hypothetically kills them, I think there is some sense to the suggestion that people interpret a higher death count as making it more likely that they themselves will be killed. It's the same thought process that leads to so many people fearing plane crashes more than car crashes. There's a secondary reason behind that, of course, which is that people fear situations where they are powerless far more than they do much more dangerous situations in which they have a modicum of control. You might be more likely to die in your car than in a plane, but in a car you are (or feel you are) directly in charge of your own safety. That seems to count for a great deal.
I may be extrapolating past the point which would sensible, but I would venture a guess that the same thing is true when comparing, say, an armed robbery with 9/11. If you're facing a man with a gun, you might be able to overpower him, or get out of the line of fire, or drive away, or what have you. If you're sat in an office block and a plane crashes into you, you're entirely screwed.
The third and final point is that terrorism is new. Or, at least, it seems new, to the average American citizen. America has been living with the threat of being gunned down in the street for generations. The possibility of dying at the shitty end of a 747 isn't really something people have been thinking about for too long. It's human nature to prioritise threats that are unfamiliar.
So you have the inability to rationally process relative risk, combined with the idea that greater control is preferable to lessened risk, and with the twin fallacies that rare events with high body counts are more dangerous to any given person that much more common events with low body counts, and that a threat you didn't know about until recently is more deadly than the one that's been outside the door since before your parents were born.
So how come people aren't terrified by global warming? It's brand new, at least compared to being shot (and compared to terrorism, for that matter, though that's not an argument liable to gain any traction in America). The potential body count is truly terrifying, we have essentially no individual control, and all the signs say the probability of catastrophe is isn't even the range one can safely pack away as "remote". Why isn't everyone screaming every time the thermometer ticks up another notch?
My wild speculation continues apace. Terrorism is a known, demonstrated threat, which means people fail to grasp the low probabilities involved and thus overestimate the expected loss that a world in which terrorism continues will suffer. Climate change, in contrast, is a threat many see as abstract. Thus they artificially reduce the probabilities involved, so as to underestimate the expected loss to the world (not that most people will think in those terms, of course).
Judging the probability of an event by comparing said event's seriousness and immediate proof of its possibility. It's a fascinating but potentially very costly phenomenon.
The typical Congressional subcommittee chairman or cable news anchor or syndicated columnist can’t really imagine not being able to afford to take his child to a doctor, or being wrongly convicted of a crime, but he is quite capable of imagining being on a Paris to New York flight that’s blown out of the sky. And while it’s true the risk he faces of suffering this fate are very close to zero, they are not, as they are for a poor person, literally zero.Depressingly, this is probably quite close to the mark (it has been noted before how quickly conservatives get interested in progressive goals the very instant they can be of personal benefit). There are other things to take into account here as well, though. I think this ties into how badly people process incredibly high cost events with incredibly low probability. Whilst the people we're talking about are never going to end up on death row or unable to pay the necessary bills to have a tumor removed, that doesn't explain why they're not getting worked up about things like domestic armed crime, which is most certainly something they're more likely to get hit by than a terrorist attack. Both events, however, will both be metaphorically shoved in the same box, marked "Pretty damn unlikely". And since a terrorist attack is considered as worse than being shot in the street, it's the latter that scares these people.
Of course, that immediately leads us to the question of why people view a terrorist attack as worse than a shooting. That, I suspect, is based in three things. Firstly, in turns of overall damage, an individual successful attack is worse than an individual shooting. Whilst it might seem strange to assume someone who apparently couldn't give two shits that two hundred of his fellow citizens died last week for lack of health-care might be concerned about how many other people die in the event that hypothetically kills them, I think there is some sense to the suggestion that people interpret a higher death count as making it more likely that they themselves will be killed. It's the same thought process that leads to so many people fearing plane crashes more than car crashes. There's a secondary reason behind that, of course, which is that people fear situations where they are powerless far more than they do much more dangerous situations in which they have a modicum of control. You might be more likely to die in your car than in a plane, but in a car you are (or feel you are) directly in charge of your own safety. That seems to count for a great deal.
I may be extrapolating past the point which would sensible, but I would venture a guess that the same thing is true when comparing, say, an armed robbery with 9/11. If you're facing a man with a gun, you might be able to overpower him, or get out of the line of fire, or drive away, or what have you. If you're sat in an office block and a plane crashes into you, you're entirely screwed.
The third and final point is that terrorism is new. Or, at least, it seems new, to the average American citizen. America has been living with the threat of being gunned down in the street for generations. The possibility of dying at the shitty end of a 747 isn't really something people have been thinking about for too long. It's human nature to prioritise threats that are unfamiliar.
So you have the inability to rationally process relative risk, combined with the idea that greater control is preferable to lessened risk, and with the twin fallacies that rare events with high body counts are more dangerous to any given person that much more common events with low body counts, and that a threat you didn't know about until recently is more deadly than the one that's been outside the door since before your parents were born.
So how come people aren't terrified by global warming? It's brand new, at least compared to being shot (and compared to terrorism, for that matter, though that's not an argument liable to gain any traction in America). The potential body count is truly terrifying, we have essentially no individual control, and all the signs say the probability of catastrophe is isn't even the range one can safely pack away as "remote". Why isn't everyone screaming every time the thermometer ticks up another notch?
My wild speculation continues apace. Terrorism is a known, demonstrated threat, which means people fail to grasp the low probabilities involved and thus overestimate the expected loss that a world in which terrorism continues will suffer. Climate change, in contrast, is a threat many see as abstract. Thus they artificially reduce the probabilities involved, so as to underestimate the expected loss to the world (not that most people will think in those terms, of course).
Judging the probability of an event by comparing said event's seriousness and immediate proof of its possibility. It's a fascinating but potentially very costly phenomenon.
Various Agendas
After a few days of intensive arguing about Tennant's swansong, I've noticed hardly anyone is using the phrase "gay agenda" anymore. Maybe people are just sick of being shouted down over it, or maybe people have finally realised that RTD had no agenda so much as the twin beliefs that bigotry can be effectively fought by normalising the "other" (which is true) and that if you do something seventeen times in a row, it must make the point seventeen times more powerfully (which is decidedly not true), but it was certainly good to see the back of it.
Then I found out that the phrase has popped up in a far more sinister context somewhere else. Specifically, Uganda, a country so homophobic it apparently constitutes compromise for them to simply lock up homosexuals for life, rather than actually execute them. And, of course, the lunatic American religious right has to get in on the action.
Beyond the sheer eye-bleeding outrage of this sort of bullshit, it's interesting to note just how blind the American "guests" at the Ugandan... symposium? ... hate rally? are claiming to be. You attend an event which claims homosexuality has a "hidden and dark agenda", you tell people that homosexuals will attempt to "recruit" their children, try "to defeat the marriage-based society", compare it to paedophilia and warn that the gays will sodomise teenage boys, and then claim surprise when those you preach to consider what you're discussing as an existential threat to their society? You tell them that homosexuality is something sinister and dangerous, that those who practice it could be cured but just don't want to be, and then play innocent when the conclusion is that these people need to be destroyed? Please.
All of this reminds me of what someone once said about political and religious philosophy: if you're going to espouse a philosophy you need to not just consider what the philosophy itself will result in, you also need to consider whatever idiotic twisted form of that philosophy the idiots of the world will grab onto will result in, too. In this case, of course, the philosophy of these particular Americans started out as a massively twisted form of something else, but the basic premise is the same. If you preach hate, and rage, and fear, you can't complain when those you preach to become hateful, and rage-filled, and afraid. Especially when they direct it at the very target you've been telling them to.
Of course, I don't believe for a minute these people are genuinely surprised (especially given that they've apparently had somewhat more input into the Ugandan legal decision than they'll admit to), but it still serves as an interesting (if stomach-churning) example of the way bigots can (claim to) compartmentalise their hideousness, how they can wish away an entire group of people, tell everyone of the dire consequences of them not disappearing, and then protesting their innocence when the people they whip into a frenzy take action. It's "Will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest?", only in this case it's more like "Will no-one rid me of these sinister society-wrecking paedophiles?"
And, as a result, an awful lot of people are going to end up in prison for life. Or worse. It would be a mistake (and even maybe indicative of a colonial attitude) to suggest that these Americans are single-handedly responsible for the proposed changes to Ugandan law, but they've certainly helped.
It kind of makes me grateful that I live in a country where anyone is in a position to complain that there are too many gay characters on Saturday evening TV.
Then I found out that the phrase has popped up in a far more sinister context somewhere else. Specifically, Uganda, a country so homophobic it apparently constitutes compromise for them to simply lock up homosexuals for life, rather than actually execute them. And, of course, the lunatic American religious right has to get in on the action.
Beyond the sheer eye-bleeding outrage of this sort of bullshit, it's interesting to note just how blind the American "guests" at the Ugandan... symposium? ... hate rally? are claiming to be. You attend an event which claims homosexuality has a "hidden and dark agenda", you tell people that homosexuals will attempt to "recruit" their children, try "to defeat the marriage-based society", compare it to paedophilia and warn that the gays will sodomise teenage boys, and then claim surprise when those you preach to consider what you're discussing as an existential threat to their society? You tell them that homosexuality is something sinister and dangerous, that those who practice it could be cured but just don't want to be, and then play innocent when the conclusion is that these people need to be destroyed? Please.
All of this reminds me of what someone once said about political and religious philosophy: if you're going to espouse a philosophy you need to not just consider what the philosophy itself will result in, you also need to consider whatever idiotic twisted form of that philosophy the idiots of the world will grab onto will result in, too. In this case, of course, the philosophy of these particular Americans started out as a massively twisted form of something else, but the basic premise is the same. If you preach hate, and rage, and fear, you can't complain when those you preach to become hateful, and rage-filled, and afraid. Especially when they direct it at the very target you've been telling them to.
Of course, I don't believe for a minute these people are genuinely surprised (especially given that they've apparently had somewhat more input into the Ugandan legal decision than they'll admit to), but it still serves as an interesting (if stomach-churning) example of the way bigots can (claim to) compartmentalise their hideousness, how they can wish away an entire group of people, tell everyone of the dire consequences of them not disappearing, and then protesting their innocence when the people they whip into a frenzy take action. It's "Will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest?", only in this case it's more like "Will no-one rid me of these sinister society-wrecking paedophiles?"
And, as a result, an awful lot of people are going to end up in prison for life. Or worse. It would be a mistake (and even maybe indicative of a colonial attitude) to suggest that these Americans are single-handedly responsible for the proposed changes to Ugandan law, but they've certainly helped.
It kind of makes me grateful that I live in a country where anyone is in a position to complain that there are too many gay characters on Saturday evening TV.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
Quote Of The Day
Taken from Steve Benen's own QOTD:
Of course, it isn't an either/or position. They're are probably plenty of Republican public figures who can be evil or goddamn idiotic, depending on circumstance. I shall have to construct a Venn diagram.
If I only had a nickel for every time experts have had to speculate as to whether far-right Republicans are "willfully" dishonest or "ignorant of the facts."Testify. It's so hard to tell which Republicans are deliberate purveyors of deception in the service of evil, and which are merely ignorant fools desperate to reach a microphone. Perhaps I should start sorting through the big name players. Cheney: Evil. Bachmann: Evil. Inhofe: Idiot. Probably.
Of course, it isn't an either/or position. They're are probably plenty of Republican public figures who can be evil or goddamn idiotic, depending on circumstance. I shall have to construct a Venn diagram.
The Inevitable Doctor Who Bitching Post
At long last, RTD's reign of terror has come to an end. And, as was inevitable, it concluded in a storm of ludicrous self-indulgent emotionally-manipulative idiocy.Although this time round I'm certainly well enough to give this final slice of Tennant/RTD madness the kicking it so richly deserves, my previous comment that it's the same damn problems over and over again most certainly still holds. In some ways, though, things have gotten even worse. Most obviously, my previous question regarding how a planet filled with amoral genius-level narcissistic mass-murderers was immediately answered with "Meh, they all just agree to follow orders."
I've said many times that RTD is about an eightieth as good at writing dialogue as many people seem to think, because although most of the individual lines work (and yes, sometimes work very well), the actual scripts are so schizophrenic the overall effect is of three entirely different stories being simultaneously shouted into your ear by a drill sergeant riding a dinosaur, all whilst the world's saddest song is being played on a violin by a lunatic clown. RTD decides what emotion he wishes to cynically evokes, and then "crafts" the words to fit. If ten thousand years from now archaeologists discover a chalkboard in RTD's home with columns readsing "Sad bit, world under threat, joke, sad bit, sad bit, joke, run around, romantic subplot, sad bit, Doctor saves the world at last minute", then my bitter, twisted ghost would be in no way surprised.
Moreover, just as the dialogue makes sense only when viewed through the prism of whatever RTD's terminally short attention span wants you to be looking at at any given moment, it's long been clear that he views coherent storytelling as a boring chore. Emotional beats and action set-pieces are decided on, and then the dots are connected in the most shamefully lazy way possible. I've said this at least twice before, I think, but consider how far the problem has progressed. The resolution to the ongoing "He will knock four times" prophecy was genuinely brilliant (and I'm ashamed to admit I didn't see it coming, which is either proof that RTD's hideous excess can at least work as a distraction, or that there are only so many of Big Rob's gin and tonics one can consume on New Year's Eve and still be able to focus on a TV show the following evening), but to get there RTD had to set up a ludicrous system of locking doors. Who locks in their technicians? And if you're going to do that, why not just have one door, and have it be unlocked for a few seconds whilst they switch over? You literally cannot have a heartbeat or two without someone manning the wheel? It's that dangerous? It can take a lightning-powered insane Time Lord changing the world's population, apparently, it can't be that flimsy. Besides, it if really is a ticking time bomb, why not put a fail-safe in? This is to say nothing of the fact the Doctor just miraculously rewired a spaceship at the eleventh hour [1], as well as diving from a height that from what I can tell was at least as high as the one which killed his fourth incarnation. And he can't summon up the wherewithal to get someone out of a glass case (a glass case which, as a friend noted, had very obvious gaps)? One might ask why the Doctor didn't at least try to use his sonic screwdriver (if it can pop champagne corks, it can press a button), but of course had he tried he would have immediately discovered that the door was "deadbolt sealed", for some reason. We didn't even get that pathetic non-explanation this time, though. I guess too much time had been spent watching the Doctor spinning around with a revolver as he tries to decide which person he least wanted to not shoot. [2]
My point (at last!) is that RTD is notorious for sacrificing both script cohesion and story logic for the sake of the next dip on his rollercoaster. I rehash all this mainly to point out that the second episode of The End Of Time pretty much confirmed that he can't even manage consistent characterisation if doing so would mean not getting to do exactly what he wants. Take it from an old hand: the Master bows to no-one, unless his life is in immediate danger or he's working a long con. There's no earthly reason to believe that would suddenly change just because the one giving the orders is his clone. You think the Master is going to meekly man a missile defence system because he's being told to by his identical twin? That he's going to sit around in his semi-detached house on the off chance the original Master tells him to go outside and grab a stroppy red-head?
It doesn't even approach making sense. But RTD wants his Master Race joke, and he needs the Master to be in total control of the Earth, so the two mutually exclusive situations are shoved together and presented as a "story". Sure, the fact the world is full of Masters allows them to triangulate the drumbeat signal, but this is a story by the man who used the London Eye to slap down an invasion by (ahem) cosmic calamari. The fact that I am suggesting such a ludicrous idea as a superior option to what actually took place should tell you a great deal.
So we can add characterisation to the list of casualties incurred by RTD's relentless quest to replace stories with simple lists of things he thinks are cracking ideas. Beyond that, the episode just about managed to hold itself together. And, as much as don't get why people love Wilf so much (and I stand by my opinion that if you hire Bernard Cribbins or June Whitfield, you're immediately hobbling suspension of disbelief, which is kinda dumb in the story where you kill of your main character), and as mentioned thought the actual set-up to the four knocks was idiotic, the core idea that the Tenth Doctor would finally abandon his Messianic quest to solve the fundamental flaws of the universe by any means necessary in order to save an entirely insignificant man with perhaps a decade or two of life left in him was the perfect end to this incarnation's journey. As Ambassador Delenn once put it: "This is my cause! Life! One life or a billion, it's all the same!" In a series so often unable to maintain coherence over an individual episode, it provided a logical and effective resolution to the last four years.
Of course, that's when the world's most embarrassingly self-congratulatory coda kicks in. Tiger has already nailed this one; pointing out that the interminable montage of the Doctor looking sad as he visited everyone who's ever been in his TARDIS (or, more bizzarely, anyone descended from a woman he was maybe going to fuck once) managed to make the end of Lord of the Rings look bafflingly abrupt. Even this bit managed to make no sense (I'm pretty sure creatures trained as warriors since "birth" don't wait to take their shot because they want to lick their lips a few times), as well as reminding us of the total idiocy of the Season 4 finale - it's now impossible to see Mickey without being reminded that the Tenth Doctor told Rose she couldn't come back to our universe after Mickey had already done so- but mainly it represented the absolute zenith of the conflation between the Doctor's godlike virtuousness and the show's apparent deification. Never before have I seen a TV show so completely convinced that it's own standing and that of it's main character are so inexorably intertwined.
In that context, this ridiculous conclusion makes perfect sense. We're not watching the Doctor visit his loved ones before his death, we're watching RTD reminding us of all the awesome things he's given us before he shuffles off to pastures new. He couldn't even resist sticking those goddamn useless Slitheen back in. Remember back when every other episode referenced them, as though RTD really believed that they would become to him what the Daleks became to Terry Nation? Apparently he's not done with that. Or attempting to cement his legacy more generally. Every moment of that insufferably long montage screamed "LOOK AT WHAT I HAVE GIVEN YOU!!! ARE YOU NOT GRATEFUL!?!"
It was, quite simply, pathetic: a showrunner hobbling his final episode by using that show to tell everyone how fucking wonderful the show has been whilst he's been running it. There are more obvious examples of creative ego getting in the way of a television show, but those usually involve either cameos, constant political point-scoring, or the creation of Mary Sues: in other words, the writer letting their character bleed too much into their work. This apparent inability to understand the difference between protagonist, show, and creator is something I've not seen before, and I'll be happy if it never happens again.
And that, at the end of the day, is what I'll remember this episode for. Not the long-awaited return of the Time Lords (complete with an explanation at last as to why the Doctor felt compelled to "destroy" his own race). Not the satisfying resolution to the Tenth Doctor's journey. This. This idiotic attempt to flat out tell us the last four years have been something amazing, rather than just letting us decide for ourselves.
That, of course, is how it's been all along. RTD doesn't present you with stories and asks you to judge them, he presents you with explosions and crying fits and tells you what you should think about them. The irony being of course - and I don't believe for one moment RTD has the slightest concept of what irony is - that had he been less insistent on constantly informing us of the Doctor's greatness, and by extension his own, the five years he spent as showrunner might have been an awful lot more palatable. Instead, he simply told us he was wonderful, that everything he wrote was wonderful, and that anyone with any critism, regardless of it's coherence or validity, was just a whinging "ming-mong" to be held in contempt.
Thank The Doctor he's gone.
[1] A spaceship he himself had needlessly crippled, naturally, because how can one have a horribly sentimental chat over how the Doctor and Wilf are both the bestest characters ever unless the script arbitrarily demands the Doctor has to stay put until the exact moment the story needs to get moving again. Sure, I realise that this is standard sci-fi practice (and swap a spaceship for, say, a car, and it's just standard storytelling), but it's the added layer of "I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, I have MIRACULOUSLY DONE THIS BECAUSE I AM A GOD" that grates. You can extend this idea to the entire Tennant era: everything is either horribly impossible and makes the Doctor mope, or effortlessly easy and makes him grin like a madman. Those are the only two settings, and the the sudden change from first to second gear happens every episode and yet we're expected to be thrilled and amazed every single time it does.
[2] While we're on the subject, I get that said scene was supposed to show how the Doctor can't bring himself to kill someone even when he knows he'll be saving billions of lives, but that idea is completely undercut by the fact that it took him so long to realise he could just shoot the crystal. If you're going to push the idea down our throats that the Doctor is now a pacifist - as oppose to his obvious real status as someone who will only kill if a) it saves lives and b) those he kills don't look like actual real people - you can't really do it by having him think "Who should I kill? What about this guy? Or this one? No maybe the first guy? Or the second?" before he works out a peaceful solution. It's just too hard to swallow the idea that someone who genuinely didn't want to kill anyone would spend so long assuming that murder was the only solution.
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