We Want To Choose The Dude Who Ignores Us

Shorter Jim Arkedis: all those nasty non-democratic countries are stopping us doing the things the people in our democratic countries don't want us to do.

I've no interest in going to the mat for Putin in general, of course, but with specific reference to international affairs it's worth noting that the only difference between the Russian form of government and the American one is that the former doesn't waste three-eights of its time arguing over who gets to be the next person to utterly ignore public opinion. 

"There Are Brighter Things Than Diamonds..."

 

After the horrible experience of reading Perdido Street Station I promised myself I'd never dive back into Mieville's work - particularly not if it involved the world of Bas-Lag - but, well, I got this free in a goody bag and I was in-between Horus Heresy novels to inflict on Fliss, so against my better judgement I decided to give this a go.

Whatever else I might want to say about Mieville, I'll give him this: he's somehow managed to produce a book that's simultaneously worse, better and frighteningly similar to Perdido... all at the same time.

 

(Spoilers follow, including some for Perdido Street Station)

 

Turned To Jelly

This time next week

Well, this is embarrassing. After years of insisting the human world could survive whilst the octopuses were too busy fighting amongst themselves to take us on (this will be the subject of my first screenplay; Uwe Boll has expressed an interest. Presumably), it turns out that it’s actually the jellyfish that are going to punch our clock, evolutionarily speaking. The only thing that can stop them is, apparently, larger and more toothsome jellyfish, which sounds like a plan with an obvious and problematic endpoint.

I suppose I should get at least partial credit for figuring all those vertebrae cluttering up dry land were only a fad, at least. I should also note that when we were in Scotland in June the locals were discussing how the standard jellyfish horde had failed to arrive this year. People’s response to this tiny anecdotal data point can tell you a lot about them, actually:

Climate change denier: there is no jellyfish problem; scientists just want more money to invent unnecessary and dangerous jelly dissolving weapons.

Cynic: there is no situation in this world so bad it won’t get work.

Statistician: why are you bothering me with this frivolity?

Indisputably correct: the jellyfish didn’t come to Scotland because they’re massing to attack.

(h/t Erik Loomis)

Friday Dreadfleet: Vampirates For The Win

And it only took a year.

 

 

That Hard, Sick Darwin

(Trigger warning)

Well look who's back.

To be clear, it's none of my business how someone sexually abused as a child chooses to process, frame and refer to that experienced. Furthermore, it doesn't seem unreasonable to postulate that there are degrees of severity as regards sexual abuse, though in practise that argument only ever seems to get made by people trying to downplay the severity of events I'm not crazy about downplaying (though again, see my first point).

One could also point out that the context here is fuzzy - flat-out telling people that it's no big deal if you were touched by a child is a different kettle of fish to being specifically asked about one's own experiences and choosing not to be judgemental about them - and whatever else may be true, Dawkins is clearly a man who could do with being less judgemental. 

Even if we grant all that, though, it beggars belief that Dawkins is comfortable announcing that not only did it not do him harm, he doesn't think all the other boys at his school exposed to such treatment were harmed either.  There's simply no way Dawkins has either the qualifications or the understanding of his schoolmates' later lives as a group to make that call.  (Update: the full interview which Slate summarises seems to suggest Dawkins is only specifically referring to his own friends here, so it's entirely possible he still keeps in contact with them and feels he can speak for them.  That doesn't overcome the qualification issue, though.)

But then of course, lazy unsupportable generalisation is pretty much what the man does best.  That and horrendous hyperbole.  For those keeping score, then:

Realisations

Today probably isn't the right day for me to complain about bad experiences with aeroplanes.

I can never get over how utterly beautiful the 9-11 memorial is.  Just so simple and gorgeous. 

Of course, while it's been precisely 12 years since the fall of the WTC, it's also four decades to the day since Augusto Pinochet seized control of Chile.  The wonderful Jane Carnall gives a taste of the remarkeable story of the UK response over at her place.  Short answer, the unions put a lot of effort and risk into not letting the military vehicles they were working on from getting shipped overseas to a bloodthirsty tyrant, and had some impressive success right up until Margaret Thatcher showed up.

Speaking of whom, what a terribly difficult year it's been for poor old David Cameron. He's not been able to persuade the opposition either to produce shameless hagiographies of a woman who supported violent dictators, or to condemn violent dictators by blowing foreigners up.

Never have their been so many restrictions to be an unfeeling, hypocritical bumgargoyle. 

Five Things I Learned In Belcaire

Not pictured: the remote-controlled plane we were
forced to abandon on the roof. O'Neill II, we salute you.

1. If you're nervous about driving in a new country, the best thing to do is to do it on twisty turny mountain roads whilst at the wheel of a small tank.  This will bring you close to death with such regularity that you begin to welcome it simply as an alternative to the unbearable pressure.  Which is a kind of success, in its own way.

2. Carcassonne is exceptionally pretty, especially the old castle.  Indeed, it's so gorgeous, I wasn't able to focus well enough on the game of Carcassonne we played in the castle's courtyard.  That's my excuse for losing by two points, anyway: pretty scenery.  Well, that and the farmers.  Fucking farmers; they spend all game lazing around in fields only to rise up at the last moment and screw me over.

3. A private pool provides an excellent opportunity to devise interesting new games and activities.  It won't be long before I'm ready to patent my new game, named "Asymmetric Ball Touch".  The first and most basic rule is as follows: one team can touch the ball, and the other can't.  All further rules are caught up in committee; details will be released when possible.

4. Iron Sky is absolutely as good as it could ever have been, in that it's clearly rubbish, but has some surprisingly funny lines and clever ideas, a brilliantly cynical ending, and CGI that somehow manages to be almost as pretty as Julia Dietze.  Highly recommended if you're drunk and with friends. On no account watch alone and/or sober.

5. There is no finger food on this earth that can beat out the little pellets of duck fat Tomsk and Chemie found at the local farmer's market.  The only problem is finding a name fit to describe them. "Duck scratchings" was contemplated but rejected due to a lack of crunch.  "Meat raisins" was met with scorn from our resident vegetarian - though they get vegetarian bacon, which strikes me as a far greater crime against descriptive language.

In summary, a pretty damn excellent holiday.  The flight back was an utter disaster, of course, but that's getting its own post, so as not to contaminate anything here.