Apple, Steve Jobs and Criticism.

'By the way, what have you done that is so great? Do you create anything or just criticize others work and belittle their motivations?'

Dear Steve

Sorry to disappoint you, but I am an educator, philosopher, technologist and erm Dad. Consequently I don’t really get to create much; though I still feel I have the right to criticise. Adults use criticism in debate, frequently (though not always) without resorting to stuff like the above. I’m sure Ryan Tate is a big boy and doesn’t need my help, nevertheless I do worry about Apple CEO’s who respond to criticism in this way.

Dude, you run a company that sells expensive toys that are long on promise but short on results.

A few weeks ago a small incremental difference between OS versions on the iPod touch caused my team to sh*tcan a major assessment round and go back to pen and paper. A few weeks before that, the loss of an ITunes password caused a data access problem and the associated panic on those same touches; the tales continue. I let the guys work up a solution on Apple products in the belief that stuff like this wouldn’t happen. My team got sold on these ideas by an educator who can’t tell the difference between selling Apple products and promoting good ideas. Sound familiar Steve ? You can’t seem to tell the difference between Apple and freedom. Perhaps you guys need to set up a self help group.

Over the years I have been told;

You can’t be creative – you don’t own a Mac

You’re not a serious educator – you don’t own a Mac

You gotta be a music pirate because you don’t own an iPod (WTF !)

I wait with interest for the day someone calls me a pervert because I don’t use an Apple branded product and live in the Job’s endorsed, walled garden.

Freedom has a good deal less to do with products, porn access, battery life, or product choices than it does with engagement, opportunity and sharing. I don’t believe that any one group or organisation can or will ever be able to exercise the kind of vision needed to determine what requires censorship and what does not; What requires proprietary control or not; What requires platform control or not; What requires special licensing or DRM - on this last point I especially don’t trust major shareholders in Disney.

I am growing to resent a market approach by Apple which still trades on the cool, credibility and value of creative industries without having been a significant stakeholder for some time. I despise Apple’s involvement in education, placing it in the same category as Microsoft and McDonalds.

Don’t like porn ? Go live in Australia; I understand they have filter systems to help people like you.

Sometimes I get to shape things, occasionally I get to change things. Very occasionally I get to change lives for the better, for real. I do this without the help of Apple or your good self.

You want to talk about freedom and creativity ? Go and take another look at what Apache has done for the web and your business.

You are right about one thing though – Flash is a pain in the ass. But I really didn’t need to be told this by an arrogant puritan who mistakes freedom for revenue.

Belittle you ? Why should I ? I can’t wait for the next brainfart from channel hubris on planet Jobs.

Timex Watches no longer take a licking and keep on ticking

In my early life watches and Timex in particular are associated with freedom. My mother taught me to tell the time, bought me a watch and the only restriction to my wide ranging travels was “be back before five”. The watch itself was a small mechanical, hand-wound piece made by Timex. White face, black numbers, good value, it reflected a vision of putting cheap reliable time-pieces on everyone’s wrist. I never managed to break or drown that watch in seven young years. It was the sort of watch that probably underpinned the famous “takes a licking but keeps on ticking” line. These experiences are I suspect what created in me at least, significant faith in the brand; a faith that was rewarded when I bought my first Timex Ironman sports-watch some twenty years later. I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that those simple plastic watches seemed little short of indestructible too. I got bored with mine and wanted more features, so I gave my first Ironman watch away after getting something more flash. I now recognise this as my first mistake. Since buying that first Timex Ironman it appears that those running Timex have changed from people who wanted to make watches and a good living, to people who plainly just want to make money. How do I surmise this ? Six years, five watches, around $2000NZD later and I have a drawer full of broken or dysfunctional Timex Ironman branded watches. Welcome to my hall of shame.

Exhibit A:

My first Timex Speed-Distance watch - second generation with the nice little Navman GPS unit. I even bought the data recorder. Bought in 2005 the unit was not used on a day to day basis so I was little surprised when moisture condensed on the inside of the facia on a cold morning. Look closely and you can see a drop of water beneath the watch glass on the left. Later the watch had the misfortune of being dropped on the garage floor which resulted in a cracked bezel with a large chunk missing (on the right). The moisture problem has persisted after a few battery changes and the backlight now is so poor it is useless. Can’t swim in it or use the watch in the dark. I still use it on the bike at the moment though. I don’t mind so much about the backlight, that’s old age. The moisture problem annoys me most, largely because it happened before the bezel cracked, which you might describe as accidental damage. But heck the thing fell less than a metre. Nb. The GPS unit, heart rate strap and data unit have performed faultlessly, which leaves me to wonder if Timex had anything at all to do with their manufacture.



Exhibit B:

This one was bought in 2007/8 as a replacement for the above. It is currently not in use as I cannot afford to replace the battery every 2/3 months. The watch is just plain too expensive to run and I suspect its battery problems are some form of fault.



Exhibit C:

This wonder of our disposable age was purchased as a day to day watch. After 18 months the rubber (?) cover on the buttons disintegrated (see arrows). Then just on two years the strap disintegrated in spectacular fashion. This went from a useful tool to a piece of s**t in next to no time. Purchased in Feb 2007 it lasted until Dec 2008. This disaster forced the hurried purchase of exhibit E. Preoccupied with Ironman training I missed the warranty window for this one.




Exhibit D:

Yeah well there’s no fool like an old fool – during the lifetime of exhibit C I bought this one for my wife at an auction. Guess what ? the frikkin strap broke after 6 months. Two watches break in the same way on different people in less than a year starts to sound like a design fault rather than user problems.



Exhibit E:

I am gonna get this one fixed under warranty if I can. It drowned during an open water session in less than 5m of water I didn’t even touch a button. The facia says WR100M do you figure that means water resistant or water retaining up to 100m ? The damn thing lasted 14 months, a new record for shoddy Timex manufacture.



For the longest time I kept buying these watches because they had killer features that I really wanted and I just could not believe that they could be so consistently awful that no-one had noticed.

GMB Services, the New Zealand service centre and distributors are decent people. They sent two strap loops to my wife for free after a conversation at IMNZ in Taupo – to fix the current Ironman Flix unit that I (probably unwisely) bought her for her birthday last year. They must find it quite tough fronting up to this kind of workmanship. You have got to imagine this though; I get woken at 2am (or thereabouts) in arbitrary nights as my wife tries to shake the backlight of her watch on. Someone in the design shop at Timex has a real sense of humour.

I note that Timex no longer uses the phrase “takes a licking but keeps on ticking” on their website – probably just as well. I just wish now, that they were not allowed to use the Ironman brand either. Not that I am in love with IM branded stuff, but you would think that something branded so would be fit for purpose. I have raced and completed four ironman races and several half Ironman races. One might think that an Ironman branded watch would be suited to my needs - this is clearly not the case, features great, durability not so good.

This leads me to a minor, but nonetheless important point; Timex have just started marketing what they describe as expedition watches. Given my knowledge of mountaineering and Ironman branded stuff I won’t be buying one. Indeed someone had better hope that expedition watches are up to scratch – shoddy gear gets people killed in tough conditions.

By all means add your own Timex experiences below.

This is no trick

The Sunday Star Times came out with this: Olympian pimps bid with fundraising trick. Logan Campbell an Olympic hopeful in 2008 is trying to fund his bid for 2012 by opening what he describes as a "high class escort agency". It isn’t a trick - this is called making a living and I hope that the publicity helps the business.

In terms of being “traditional” or “old fashioned” Taekwondo is nothing short of prehistoric, at least it is in New Zealand. In going public over his new business venture I suspect Logan will have done a little bit more than surprise people. He will have upset some and deeply offended others; I would be truly interested in what his instructor has to say - especially now the story has gone global. I hope the tale sparks a wider debate about the role of minor sports, small nations and what professional funding means in modern Olympism, but I’m not holding my breath.

It is not for me to defend the legitimacy of running an escort agency or even to argue that Logan’s case is a special one amongst the athletes who compete in sports that are regarded as minor in terms of national importance. The only thing I really take issue with is that anyone has the right to call his actions disreputable or inappropriate. The Logan Campbell I know is a nice guy, dedicated, bright, articulate and generally well meaning.

The quote by John Schofield of Taekwondo "Selection takes into account not just performance but also the athlete's ability to serve as an example to the youth of the country.", typifies what has been a difficult relationship between Campbell and the sport he loves. Perhaps what Schofield should have said, is something along the lines of - ”whilst we don’t necessarily approve of these actions it does highlight the difficulties surrounding the finances for all aspiring New Zealand Olympians in minor sports”. Given that performance funding for all but a restricted number of sports in NZ is largely discretionary and unpredictable, it was perhaps wise not to rock the boat. The NZOC and SPARC’s National academy are far from perfect organisations, but I strongly believe that the root of this problem rests with a genuine lack of will on the part of successive governments to actually promote sport rather than winning. What politicians want is medals and trophies, the approach to sport funding continues to reflect this.

High performance sport funding in New Zealand is broken; spending increasing amounts of cash on a diminishing pool of athletes in order to “punch above our weight on the international stage” is a strategy that is doomed to failure in the long term. There will come a point when there will not be enough quality performers and nothing like enough money to pull this off. It may well be the case that the whole notion of performance sport funding needs to be debated in terms of viability and usefulness. As long as high performance sport funding remains a populist cash cow then no one has the right to judge those with the dedication and industry to seek independent means whatever the method.

Some things you may not know about Logan Campbell: He

Has been in Taekwondo from a young age.
Narrowly missed out on going to the Athens Olympics at age 19.
Is a drug-free athlete.
Is dyslexic.
Was training twice a day most days in the 9 months preceding the Beijing Olympics.
Put off his last year of study at university in order to prepare for the Olympics.
Sold his car to fund a training trip to Europe.
Left New Zealand for Beijing with one sponsor (I think).
Attended at least three schools making presentations before leaving for Beijing while many other athletes were already at camps, this he did out of love for his sport.

Fuck who ?

One baby boy, one wife and a modestly happy life, but you gotta wonder though, haven’t you…..

To the best of my knowledge, my first gay admirer was the late John Balance or as he was known to me, Geoff Rushton. His enthusiasm for Throbbing Gristle pins and such was lost on me, but his kindness and respect for me is not forgotten. Now I understand the confused and slightly pained look on his face. I think at the time I was rather too absorbed in my own struggles to really grasp what was going on.

Time passes:

I became chaperone to the first (and probably only) lesbian pool team to play in a male dominated league in the UK. We made the local rag and I made some good friends. Ali, Fran and Angie were heroes in their own right being long standing protestors at Greenham Common. I learned a lot from them all, not least about the lottery created by not knowing who the nasty homophobes were. Looking back, one of my mother’s finer achievements was running a pub with an ambiance and attitude that allowed everyone to feel comfortable having a drink.

Meanwhile more admirers made themselves known to me. Poor old Peter used to call me Hero, he never laid a hand on me but in a moment of exasperation he all but begged me to undress for him. Later he apologised to me, it was a struggle to explain that I was flattered, not offended, but still not really up for it.

The bravest of the lot I think, was Ray who followed me home after an evening in the Pub. I remember the footsteps behind me on a deserted street in Oxford; I sped up the feet behind me sped up, I slowed down the feet behind me slowed down. I thought I was going to get mugged. Beneath a streetlight I turned quickly to confront my assailant and there was Ray with his hands in front of his face expecting to be punched. He stood his ground and blurted “are you gay ? andodyouwanttogoforadrink ?“ pause…. I laughed out loud and said I wasn’t gay, he looked so disappointed that I agreed to go for a drink with him anyway – just for a giggle. I’m not sure if that was the smartest thing that I have ever done, and it was a poor reward for what I feel was quite a courageous act. After all, I was a fit and quite capable of beating the shit out of him.

And the list goes on…

Gareth expanded beyond measure, my understanding of non-contact sport, he also loaned me some really useful books.

The guy on the train who had such a broad Yorkshire accent he shouted his proposal at me three times across a train before I got it.

The two guys who so openly flirted with me while they were on the checkouts at my local supermarket…….in front of my then fiancée.

The pair in Sheffield who had me biting a pillow with laughter one Sunday morning – the floors are thin around here too y’know.

My admirers at the pool; “are you gay ?”, “no”, “do you want to be ?” left me speechless as did “I’m married, but I’d give it up for you”.

I remain flattered.

To the couple who have befriended and cared for my Mother in the UK, I am truly grateful.

Right now I’m looking forwards to the birth of a work colleague’s baby – she and her partner are lovely and I am damn proud that they have chosen to confide in me.

This is not just some self aggrandising way of screaming “I’m down with teh gayz”. The bigger point is this. I have never felt the urge to harm anyone in the course of these encounters. It may be argued for various reasons that I should be deeply homophobic. I’m not and when shit like this happens I get very upset indeed. Which I guess is why when stuff like this comes out I am almost crying with mischief and happiness.

All together now….”Fuck you, Fuck you very very muuuuch”……

Damien Hirst, Ambivalence and Me.

Damien Hirst and I were born within a few days of each other, which would in most senses be a tenuous link. I've never met the guy and probably have little in common with him. Except that his art seems to work right in the middle of my aesthetic bandwidth. When for the love of god appeared, all I could say was - wow. It wasn't the money or the sheer audacity of it, just wow I never saw that until I saw it. I've always been like that with Hirst's work; pharmacies, sharks, you name it, the connection is immediate and needs no translation. I have often wondered if the connection is some kind of cohort effect - that is to say Hirst is an artist of my time and age, his immediacy and importance may well be lost to other generations. In particular he and I are part an early media generation; full of television and adverts, when in Britain at least, it was all new. No surprises then that I picked up on his work relatively early, following closely over the years, travelling to London regularly. When Hirst first published I Want To Spend The Rest Of My Life Everywhere, With Everyone... in 1997, I got really excited.


My sister who worked for a major bookseller got me a copy for my birthday, possibly the best present I have ever received. The book has never been opened, still in the shrink wrap, I'm not sure if it has a signature inside (probably not). A few days ago my wife asked me what was in a box covered in shrink wrap, wrapped in bubble wrap and clearly undisturbed. I told her and explained a little. She asked me if I was going to sell it, I recoiled and said absolutely no, "Then why don't you open it ?" she asked quite reasonably, I said no - "Then what's it for ?" erm..uhhhh.. what is it for ? Maybe someone will open it when I die. Did you get that one Damien ? Then there is the question of which of us will die first.

David Carradine

With the recent death of David Carradine I found one of the few reasons to have a television (there isn't one in the house). Ahhhh grasshopper, the steps of Kwai Chang Caine across the rice paper and the lifting of the coals; these moments set the template for me starting martial arts and probably my re-habilitation as a person. The bit that makes me smile is that this would not have been possible without Carridine in my front room on a Saturday evening. No surprises that I was watching Hell Ride and Kung Fu Killer last weekend (on DVD). Gonna miss the old fella he was always worth watching.

Storming the Bridge

I guess the civil mischief that was the mass crossing of the Harbour Bridge can be seen in several ways: Cultural Rebellion, clash of Car Kiwi vs. Sustainable Kiwi, a battle for minority rights perhaps. For me it is one of those Easter Island moments. I have in mind the occasions that must surely have emerged in the past, where two views of the future met and conflicted in a high stakes game of legitimacy. Or: "dude if we keep doing what we have always done it could all end very badly" vs. "but this is what we have always done and it works for most of us,...where's my f*****g axe".


A rather large number of people decided that they viewed the future differently, for whatever reason. What was most telling was the response of NZTA regional director Wayne McDonald: Mr. McDonald says there are plans to provide access for bikes and foot traffic, but it will be 30 years before it is complete (from the NZ Herald online, 24- 05-2009). I strongly suspect that Mr. McDonald and I will be dead by then, either as a consequence of old age or global stupidity. I maintain high hopes that my little bloke will see the day though. I guess a 30-year planning term with a suggestion that this is non-negotiable is one way of saying 'f**k off annoying little people who aren't busy driving somewhere important in a car on a Sunday'.


I don't want to debate whether the protest will get walkways and cycle ways any sooner, according to NZTA it won't. What I want to question is the appropriateness of the response from NZTA. Let's face it, this is a civil servant or a group of civil servants insisting that transport policy and the use of the Auckland Harbour Bridge will not change in my lifetime or theirs: 'F**k democracy and elected office - we run New Zealand roads' would seem to be the case here. You have got to admire the honesty of the response, at least it's not 'oh we'll look into it and send you a report', which I am led to understand has been the response for the last 50 years. I might add this was the line delivered by Northcote MP Jonathan Coleman.


I am worried though, because these people and I'm not just talking about NZTA, but those who put them to work, appear to me to be the last axe men on Easter Island. I suspect this is one agency that Rodney Hide does support and indulge. The message is simple; there are no plans for change despite compelling reasons to do so and a growing community to support them. One public day on the bridge was all that was requested - for the first time in 50 years. The response rendered was an excuse masquerading as safety. The clip-on's canna handle it captain! Well, assuming that such a density of individuals walking in time across the bridge (unlikely) could cause the clip-on's to sway - why not let people cross in a trickle and keep them moving when the accumulate at the apex. That is of course, instead of deliberately directing them on to the middle lanes to make the problem look intractable and those doing it a menace. Coning one lane of the clip-on's in half and keeping everyone in line would have mitigated most of these (alleged) risks. When nice middle-class folk choose to criminalise themselves, then you have cause to worry about how society is operating. I believe that good laws are those not made to defend the stupidity or pet hates of politicians and civil servants.


Some points of note: The only endorsed crossing is one you have to pay for as part of the Auckland Marathon/Half Marathon which does make the opportunity a little exclusive. It also proves that it can be done. Cyclists should righteously be p**sed off , they don't even get the opportunities afforded to runners as above. Oh, and try putting a bike on a bus around here. Funnily enough, I do know of some cyclists who used to ride out to the Coromandel and return to the North Shore by the (now withdrawn ?) ferry service. To all those motorists who suffered delay on Sunday: allow me to apologise on behalf of NZTA who it appears preferred a confrontation to a well managed celebration of alternative transport. Message: any delay could have been avoided had NZTA done their jobs properly and facilitated rather than obstructed the actions of well reasoned individuals. To the guy who abused cyclists, walkers, parents and children as they obstructed his Sunday drive: See the above comment, but above all stop and think what message you sent - Because I drive I have the right to swear at everyone. Now tell me who looks menacing and inconsiderate, for you are undoubtedly a one amongst many bigots who abuse Auckland roads and respond to the NZ Herald reader's views section.


For what it is worth I don't think that a cycle/walkway across the harbour would be that well used. But I agree with David Slack that it could be part of a fantastic tourist attraction. Above all it would represent the intention to do things differently and hopefully a little better, the consequences of which might finally precipitate a much needed culture shift. The question remains - How do facilitate rather than exclude those who prefer transport that doesn't involve internal combustion engines. Because constructively institutionalising car use in particular is no longer acceptable. Big ups to the first bunch of cyclists across who I believe got things going. You are the real spirit of forward thinking New Zealand - I will be seeing you shortly ;-) And the storm the bridge award goes to.................(to the sound of 'be careful with that Axe Eugene' by Pink Floyd of course)

Photography

Stood in a corridor I looked towards the end door. There I saw a shoe, hanging from a foot attached to a slim leg, dressed in a foot loop stocking, all bathed in just the right light. I could see it all, in black and white, a gorgeous picture in a brief moment. Could I capture it ? Sadly no camera, but above all how do you capture such a moment without feeling like a pervert or worse being treated like one ? I really don’t know, but on reflection I have acquired a deeper admiration for those photographers who save such images in their mind and then present the vision and imagination to re-create such images in a more controlled context. Seeing it is one thing, giving it to the world is another altogether. I wonder what will happen when we can all manage to capture the beauty we see everyday, when our eyes are cameras in themselves. Will a truly shared aesthetic emerge ? or something more radical and disturbing.

Good days…..

I guess that if I ever get really good at photography I will look on these with a patronising smile. But as it stands these are a cut above what I have snapped for some time. For me at least, digital is great it’s not just that I can have several attempts at something (but not that many attempts) but that I compose with confidence and don't worry about the cost of a roll. These have been Photoshopped but not too much.

We were staying at Kai Iwi lakes with the rellies for a few days whilst touring Northland - the day before I had cycled all the way from the shore to Dargaville. Little bloke, my wife and I eschewed the lakes for a walk to the beach in the evening and were duly rewarded with a warm, spotless, empty beach. Something about the location and being properly on holiday really prompted a different state of mind.

On the way.....

Having a play



Going home

Sport, Art and Me

Hadyn Green over at Public Address started a thread on Sport and is it Art nothing new except for once I wrote and wrote well - This is what I wrote.

I’m probably taking this waaaay to seriously however…..

Depends on whether Art is solely in the eye of the beholder, or the intent of the performer counts for something.

I can get with that and I would qualify it with this misquote from someone whom I can’t fully recall.

Art is what exists in the dialogue between the art-moment and the individual exposed to it. As such, each exposure is a unique art product. Unconstrained by specific intentions the artist may stimulate the process without necessarily defining it. Viewing with artistic intent is as important as viewing a de facto artwork or artist; this sees art as only requiring the intent of one or other of the involved parties. Hence art is what we experience where artistic intent exists on one or both sides of the dialogue; in this way the question is not who the artist is, but where the art is to be found or experienced.

I like this idea as it allows for art to be incidental and for distinctions between art, sport and craft to be largely irrelevant.

Randomness

For example it makes no sense to me at least, to draw an artificial line between the absorbed, involved manipulation of chaos demonstrated by Jackson Pollock and the absorbed liberation of action from apparent chaos demonstrated by Ronaldinho. There is a clear dyad between these artists and the complex changing forms that surround them, both of whom seem to be able to capture something sublime from apparent randomness.

Culture

Compare Picasso’s Guernica with Jesse Owens performances at the 1936 Olympics, you cannot separate these actions from the politics and complexity that surrounded them. Each in its own way was beautiful, profound, historical and dare I say it misunderstood at times.

Theatre

I challenge you to say the Valerie Villi’s actions in Beijing were not pure theatre; creating a micro-climate around her in order to elevate performance and its eventual outcome. She manipulated those around her as effectively and indeed beautifully as she propelled the shot, keenly interacting with the act, the audience and the occasion. So too does Damien Hirst appreciate his role as art creator, manipulator and marketing man. Not only does he create the work but he deliberately manipulates media around him to create a context for his work; performance and theatre as a subtext for an artistic act.

Perfection

Here’s the one that clinches it for me. Look carefully at the deliberate, determined perfectionism of Yves Kline in his creation of IKB and that of a sprinter, thrower or diver. They seek perfection in clearly identifiable form through deliberate repetitive search only then to explore those forms in different contexts. More compellingly Klein wrote quite early in his career on “le Vide” (the void) an ethereal sense created by an artistic act. Compare this with accounts of “being in the zone” or “flow” and you get the sense that our artists and sportsfolk can and sometimes do occupy the same intellectual space in pursuit of particular goals.

So to be quite contrary Art is because I say soand that is what really matters.

The best excuse I ever heard.

The drunk stick is a tale of the best excuse I ever heard.

Back in the day when Universities selected rather than marketed and tutors spoke to students individually, I was given pastoral responsibility for some fresher’s (yeah that’ll be the responsible me). Within my care was a young southern Irish fellow who was really struggling to come to terms with the end of fresher’s week. Indeed when rarely sighted in daylight hours, he appeared to be headed for the Rugby Fields. By week eight other tutors began to notice and it was up to me to remind our young friend of his academic obligations. I sent a letter, phoned his home, and finally collared him outside the student union (on his way in !). We set up a meeting and he didn’t turn up. I sent the official first warning letter and he phoned to set up a meeting at 10:00 am a few days later. The day of the meeting at 10:00, our chum was a no show. He did finally show up at four in the afternoon and this is what I heard (the names have been changed to protect the innocent):


Brendon; Oh hello sir (in deep Irish accent) I’m so so sorry to be late sir honest I am.

81st: Really ? (sarcasm)

Brendon: Yes yes for sure, I am sir yes, honest, see it wasn’t my fault I really, really did mean to get here at ten……

81st: You were delayed then ? (arches eyebrow)

Brendon: Oh yessir I surely did it just well….gasp…

81st: You don’t appear to have any broken bones…….

Brendon: No sir it wasn’t like that – it was just that last night I was walking home one my own minding my own business….when I got caught…

81st: Caught by whom ?

Brendon: I got caught walking past the dark doorway of this bar….when suddenly a shadow jumped out and beat me wit de drunk stick…..

81st: A Drunk stick ? (both eyebrows raised )

Brendon: Yes Sir the shadow hit me round the head with the drunk stick and he hurt me so he did. In fact he hit me so hard that I had a terrible headache this mornin’ and had to stay in bed ‘til it went away…..that’s why I’m late (triumphantly !)

81st: So does this happen often and is there any way we can help you circumnavigate this particular door way in future (trying to suppress peals of laughter)

Brendon: It’s funny you should say that I was givin’ the matter some thought myself…

81st: Well that does sound like good news…….

I believe that Brendon abandoned his original course of study in favour of medicine ?

Peace on earth

Can't say this is original, I wrote it as a contribution to a thread over at Public Address - Someone paid me one of the kindest compliments I have ever received as a result. Its real and about as me as it gets, worth preserving then. Enjoy.

Peace on earth 1.

My father and I spent the day arguing I’m drunk, he’s barely conscious. We have guests. I’m laying the table, I drop a fork, he tells me to wash it, I reply “you f*****g wash it”. The guests have to restrain us both and someone else washes the fork. We sit to eat, I’m serving my father, doing it silver style, I twitch, purely by accident and cover him in overdone, quite mobile greens. He eyeballs me, I eyeball him and the room elects not to take any further breaths for the time being. Then I see what I think is the vaguest crinkle next to his recently greened eye. We both look to either side and I really can’t remember who started it. A smile, a chuckle, a giggle and then peals of tear busting, asthmatic provoking laughter; the spirit of Christmas brings peace for another day.

Peace on earth 2.

Still not over the breakdown of a 4 year relationship, feeling quite sorry for myself, I elected not to celebrate Christmas. I was nursing an extraordinary hangover having passed out at 7pm the day before. The house was freezing and I could not be bothered to connect up the new gas bottle, I crawled into bed instead. The phone rang three times; I decided not to be in. Then this awful banging on the door “Saes ! we know you’re in there - John and Della are coming to collect you in half an hour !”. John and Della owned a farm over the hill, Della had been my tutor at Uni, they are both the most decent committed Christians I know and I am about as atheist as they come. Failing to contact me by phone, they in that very North Wales way checked with my neighbours and got them to alert me instead. People like me don’t deserve friends like that. I don’t remember the meal or much of the following days. I do remember standing in an empty slate quarry with five companions singing Hymns and carols for all my voice, and what could be taken for a soul was worth. I can neither describe nor understand the peace that moment brought me.

A gift from my partner.

My partner gets my need for solitude which is a great comfort to me. One Christmas shortly after we first got together, we finished work on the evening of the 23rd, packed gear and drove from Sheffield to the northern highlands of Scotland. Late afternoon met our arrival at the bottom of a small range of Corbett’s and Munro’s I’d recce’d the year before. We did a night tramp for the first part, pitching out about two thirds of the way from the top of this particular peak. Christmas day from the camp looked a bit misty and not too bright, by eleven it had cleared just enough for us to photograph the wreck of a WW2 Wellington bomber. We could just see the peak and decided to have a go with what looked like quite a long zigzag route. As the ascent progressed the Sun came out and we went really fast, no words, just the crunch of snow and us. They call it a flow state and it was one of the most complete moments of my life. At the top I could see the range, the sea, my partner, two sets of tracks and not another living soul. Not the highest peak I’ve ever done and by no means the most difficult or indeed the most spectacular scenery, but it was mine. Only half the chocolate was mine though. It became clear at the peak that my partner was getting very cold very fast; with old gear not really up to the job, I cracked out my dry set and my partner doubled up layers. We set off downhill quite fast and made quite a wise decision at camp deciding to continue the walk off. I put my partner in the bothybag with a hot pack and pitched up. As we walked off a blizzard followed us all the way down to the tree line where we camped briefly and then carried on the then thick snow. Sat finally in a snowbound car I realised my partner who really hadn’t enjoyed the show, had given me one perfect Christmas day.

If Santa didn’t exist would we have to have had invent one anyway ?

Kiwis and Cars

There is a lot to like about being in NZ but motoring is not one of them. New Zealanders don’t shoot each other a la USA; they kill each other with cars.

My guess is that few if any charges will be laid against the driver that did this. I can hear the court argument now. Dangerous road, the pedestrian should have crossed the road to use the path on the other side. Questions that won’t be addressed properly:

i) Why is the road so dangerous?

ii) Why wasn’t there a path on both sides of the road?

iii) Do we seriously think that a drunk driver is not culpable in this regard?

The picture provided tells us that there was space for a path and that there was quite a lot of road to drive on.

New Zealand has to change driver behaviour and philosophy the time for excuses is over.

Just in case you thought this was an isolated incident.

http://www.nzherald.co.nz/topic/story.cfm?c_id=663&objectid=10437408
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/topic/story.cfm?c_id=663&objectid=10419155
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/topic/story.cfm?c_id=663&objectid=10444815
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/topic/story.cfm?c_id=663&objectid=10437369
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/section/4/story.cfm?c_id=4&objectid=10462466
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/topic/story.cfm?c_id=99&objectid=10468281

Lots of people a lot of pain.

Ingmar Bergman

It seems foolish to mourn the death of a man who didn't know me; nor I him in truth. More important is to note the contribution he made to my life. Ingmar Bergman changed the way I thought about life and saw the world. I believe I am a better man as a result. I would have waited another lifetime for another Seventh Seal as it is the world will never be the same.

Time to take sides ?

I read with interest about the recent UCU vote to boycott Israeli academia and their decision to talk some more. I read with even more interest the poisonous and arrogant response from the US lobby.

My thoughts:

i) Without broad support from within government and the civil service in the UK the boycott is unlikely to prove effective. Those who want to ignore it will do. A more important point; is those who already boycott Israel or undertake legitimate criticism, will at least have someone else to help protect them from the sort of academic bullying that takes place in the US.

ii) This is in no way an anti-semitic gesture. This is about saying in plain language that Israel is wrong. Merely suggesting that they ought to change is no longer sufficient. No more hand wringing and hubris please.

iii) This gesture needs to be put into the context or a request by Israeli academics to allow students in Gaza to study in the West Bank. Despite pleas to the contrary academic freedom is clearly not universal.

iv) I hope this does open a real debate unencumbered by the anti-semite bleat. Time to take sides.

n.b. I have boycotted Israeli goods for some 15 years now. I don’t feel like I have missed out on much so far.

LOLBUSH

Had to have a go myself........

Books –

My grandfather taught me to read. To begin with he read to me on Wednesday nights; he would come over on the ferry we’d have boiled eggs and Victoria sponge for tea. He would bath me, put me to bed and read until I fell asleep.

Henry Woods was a Welsh miner, quite proud of the fact that he could read at all, and doubly proud of the fact that he could teach said skill to me. Not surprisingly books are a great comforter for me. My earliest days were spent with 365 bedtime stories and Reed’s wonder tales of Maori land (sent to me from my Nana in Auckland). I still have Reed and all my copies of the Pippin annual. I could read somewhat sooner than all the other kids I knew. As such it set me apart but I didn’t notice because I had my head in a book or reading over someone else’s shoulder. At infant school I was often found asleep in the small library with Britannica on my lap.

At juniors I remember distinctly being accused of stealing books; the problem being that no one actually thought I was capable of reading them.

The first stand out book for me was an illustrated copy of Pilgrims Progress I loved the tale, missed the metaphor altogether but worse than that I thought the illustration of Apollyon was soooo cool. No surprises that I ended up an atheist.

War mags yep, Biggles yep, Hornblower Yep, Famous Five yeuuch, Henry Treece Yep, Encycopedias Yeaah, and rather strangely Aircraft of the Fighting Powers. I skipped the Bible. Solzhenitsyn proved too much too soon but Arthur C Clarke and Isaac Asimov were cool with me.

During the long hot summers abroad I went through a MacDonalds phase reading sometimes as many as three pulp specials a day. I returned to school after one such summer, bored with ordinary words and looking for something new. Wilfred Owen, Robert Graves; but I came back to Siegfried Sassoon a book I had seen on the desk of an old mentor many years before , The Memoirs of George Sherston. I felt betrayed that Sherston wouldn’t go back at first and then my life truly changed.

There were only two rules at my boarding school; don’t tell ever and don’t tell anyone; behind this veil lived bullying and abuse. I broke ranks and told about the bullying of one boy by my then best friend and the biggest kid in my year. I regard it as one of the few good things I ever managed at school. The kid who was bullied the most was never sure whether to thank me or not, after all he’d gone from being a victim to a nobody, almost overnight (we later got into a fight which led to me beating him very badly, something I still regret deeply). Despite the beatings, the property destructions and the fights that followed, I never regretted that act. The change was to set me on the road to political activism, protesting and all sorts. At one stage I was the chaperone to the UK’s only lesbian pool team. For many years Tao Te Ching brought peace and space to my mind

Later I read Marx, Mein Kampf, and the Bible but I managed to mix this with Iain Banks, Gibbo and Phillip K Dick (Far more fun). Thomas Hardy changed the way I felt about life and DH Lawrence changed the way I saw people. Oh and I finally read Tolkein; errrrm seven times.

Being involved with stage led me to Waiting for Godot (got it after the 5th performance !) and Dr Faustus.

At University I read Gillies and Aronson in close succession; neither people nor sciences were ever the same again. I launched into poetry going backwards in time from Larkin to Shakespeare. I even finished Foucault’s Pendulum but failed Solzhenitsyn a second time.

I courted my wife by reading AA Milne and the Zig Zag Kid by David Grossman to her. I am currently reading the Iliad a second time. My sister coincidentally is married to a writer and manages a bookshop.

Bloggers anonymous anyone ?

I’m p****d off over this Kathy Sierra thing for a lot of reasons.

i) People who perpetrate such nastiness from behind a veil of anonymity are scumbags.

ii) Other mortals who take advantage of anonymity, have had to suffer the wrath of the self righteous and occasionally self serving blog community many of whom see no benefit in anonymity.

iii) The result has been a code of conduct for the blogsphere. This upsets me for two reasons: Firstly the code is unworkable but more worryingly the code represents an attempt to regulate instead of educate. This bothers me because I would have hoped for something more from the online community. A philosophy of freedom seems to have served the online community well, why give it up now?

iv) I don’t like being called a coward on account of the behaviour of others.

So why 81^stcolumn ?

I have been 81^stcolumn pretty much for as long as I have been on-line. The tag refers specifically to the extra column that appeared on old 80cloumn VDU’s. You only saw this column if the line was full of text and you couldn’t program it (I don’t think). It also laterally refers to 80 column programming cards – when a program appeared not to work for any obvious reason we used to talk about a stray bit in the 81^stcolumn. Not surprisingly I was trying to create an air of mystery and grandness. After all, to know what the 81^stcolumn is would be to indicate that you have been in computing for quite a while…..me trying to be a smart arse.

When I decided to attempt blogging I thought long and hard about whether it was reasonable to keep this ID up. I decided I would for several reasons;

I would like to keep my job and politics as far apart as possible. A large part of my job involves communicating with others. In these situations I have to appear to be capable of unconditional and non-judgemental acts. Consequently I didn’t want to have to discuss my politics in these situations or let my politics interfere with how others saw me. I just plain wouldn’t be able to work as effectively.

At the time when I made the decision there was some doubt as to whether I would be re-employed in my current role. Lack of employment would have meant having to leave my wife and my home. SWMBO probably puts up with enough as it is. At the same time I badly wanted to blow the whistle on what I saw as unethical and dare I say bullying practices at work. I hinted at some of this in this blog at the time. The process itself was helpful to me and kept me in my job long enough that I might be able to do something good in the future. I certainly stopped me form threatening to assault my bosses. I eventually made my point clear to my bosses later and that point to my surprise was well relieved and acted on. I honestly believe that my anonymous blogging was helpful at the time. Which brings me rather neatly to my next points.

The idea of blogging anonymously has served the world quite well when gaining a snapshot of life in Iran, China and elsewhere. I am not saying that I am in any way as valuable as these folks. What I am saying is that sometimes the protection of anonymity is of value.

To underline this point whenever I have been “me” on-line it has caused me to question whether I should bother to be involved on line at all. The first time was in a school discussion board where the MSM picked up my name as someone who had been in contact with a known kiddie fiddler. No the guy had never touched me and no I did not want to discuss this further, an unpleasant surprise never the less. On a subsequent occasion, I was phoned and berated verbally by an anonymous contributor to another board, who had tracked me to my workplace to continue a disagreement he felt was unresolved on line. In both cases this would not have been possible had I used my pseudonym.

As someone who has been run-over, searched repeatedly, chased and beaten up for openly expressing my views face to face in public I see no reason to acknowledge an argument to do with my courage (or lack thereof) on-line. Maybe I’m just tired of being the one that gets flagged to be searched in airline checks etc. I know I grew tired of listening to a lot of unhappy people and getting the same government; then seeing a much smaller group of people at protests that had more verbal than material support. I think it most unfair to make presumptions of cowardice, based purely on the failings of others. It shows a complete lack of imagination to think that all anonymous users are “abusers by proxy” or “nastiness waiting to pounce”. I won’t buy into the macho call-you-out b******t as a response. A good read of my blog would identify me fairly accurately anyway.

I have offered to identify myself at my favourite discussion board over at PA. I am still trying to find a balance between the comfort of anonymity and blogging it real. Being scolded from a soapbox is unlikely to help. Besides I'm chronically self conscious in the presence of so many people on discussion boards who are clearly better informed and smarter than me…….