...

[Image removed because it infringed upon the copyrights of others.]

Sketch by Gary Larson, The prehistory of the Far Side: a 10th anniversary exhibit (Kansas City, Missouri: Andrews and McMeel, 1989), p. 110. ("Look guys... I just can't handle these changes... I'm not sure if it's the rhythm, or the tempo, or if it's just that I'm a cow.")

Time for a break, reader. Thanks for reading, and if you ever commented, double-thanks for that. Toodle-oo.

Spitting

I just read a post by a London psychiatrist who is trapped in the weird workings of the UK health system - Dear MTAS - and she's so angry and so eloquent, her emotional outburst made me feel bold. I'll henceforth be spitting for the rest of this post, being sorry only for having needed the permission of a complete stranger's example in order to feel free enough to do so.

A number of things have been going through my head lately, all of them related to online activities, and all of them making me angry.

(a) I've been dithering about whether to end this blog.** A big part of me wants to say "Fuck you!" and then bugger off into the big beyond with just a swishing of drama-queen skirts in my wake. Sometimes I hate you, reader, and that's rather silly considering I don't even know who you are, but also (and quite obviously) it's the ideal situation: you're the ideal punching bag. If I'm angry with the world, I hate you. I see you as being some sort of faceless version of me, though sometimes you make comments and for a short time seem real. In fact, of course, you are real, so I'm wishing you'd make comments more often.

(b) How do I know you're real, though? And how do you know I am? You don't, unless we know each other offline. You don't know that anybody online is real. I had a mini-discussion about this in emails during the week with someone I think of as a friend. Something he said made me feel unsure about him and I questioned his authenticity, but instead of wanting to talk, he diagnosed serious paranoia on my behalf and (I now assume by his silence) buggered off himself.

If he'd given me the chance to explain, this is what I would have said. You do not know that anybody online is real. You can't know. There is no way of knowing. They can post photos of themselves, they can say "I know A, who knows B", they can say "I talked to C on Friday", they can give you stats and memes and whatever the hell else they want to throw online, and all of it, all of it might be bullshit. You don't know. I don't know. Nobody knows. There is no way of knowing. Even in real life you have few ways of knowing that somebody is telling you the truth, though at least in a face-to-face situation you have the benefit of being able to read body language and voice intonation. But online, trust can only be built through words and pictures. Say it or show it. That's all there is. And I'm guessing that most people are honest, but some people are not. How do you tell the difference?

Here we get down to it. You tell the difference by using your own feelings (including those possibly-ridiculous ones that occur by chance as though they're intuition), by asking questions, and by making up your own mind. That's how you tell. It's up to you. And if the other person doesn't like the question, or doesn't want to be questioned at all, they should say that. But keep this in mind: to say there are some questions that shouldn't be asked is to limit friendship. Friends should be able to say whatever they want and know they are safe to do so, even when they're behaving stupidly or wrongly or rudely. If you can't be fully human with a friend, you can't be human at all. Friendship should be the place where you're safe to be yourself - that's what it's about.

My friend thinks that online life (or perhaps just me?) is not worth the hassle. I think he's wrong.

(c) We should assume and believe in the honesty of each other. This doesn't mean that doubts are wrong or offensive, it just means that the fundamental assumption underlying online life should be that the social rules which dictate offline behaviour should also operate online too. When somebody invents a commentor or blogger but then writes as if they have a real offline existence - without informing the reader of their fictional status - they are violating the faith of other people online. We should have faith in each other, we should believe we're all authentic and believable, we should be able to trust each other. And just as religious faith is stronger when built on acceptance of doubt ("I've considered all the possibilities and choose to believe" is a much stronger position than "To question is to be unfaithful") then so is faith in humanity. People who violate this faith and fuck about with fake personas masquerading as real people deserve a kick up their sorry arses.

** I'm not asking your opinion about this, by the way (in case that's what it looks like).

Rock stars: a self-portrait

I was just browsing through photos at The Cloud Appreciation Society and found one called Sunset over The Olgas, Northern Territory, Australia. It's a nice photo (see detail below), but what I like best about it is the copyright notice (which usually shows the name of the photographer):

Kata Tjuta is the name given by the traditional landowners, the Anangu, to The Olgas - those big bumpy bits you can see in profile on the horizon.
:)

(The area is part of the Uluru - Kata Tjuta National Park, and you'll need a permit if you ever want to do any commercial photography, filming, etc.)

Sunday

Would you like to guess what we're looking at here, reader? Click on the image for a larger view if you need one, but I knew as soon as I stepped into this room: there was a snake on the windowsill, and it was inside the insect screen (one of the few insect screens on any window in this house that actually has no holes in it). That snake was right here in this room. Bloody hell! Bloody bloody hell!

I was walking in here to close the window because it had just started raining, and thank God it had, because otherwise I wouldn't have walked into this room to close the window, and that snake would now be somewhere in this room without me knowing about it.

It must have come through a hole in the bottom of the window frame (designed to let rainwater out, presumably), or maybe I just hadn't noticed the screen was loose at the side somewhere. It got in. That's the point. A fucking snake - another one - got into this room. My haven. My safe little island. The place I feel okay. Bloody hell.

I got the broom from the next room and hit the insect screen with it, and the screen just flew out (thank God), as did the poor little snake who seemed just as keen as I did for our meeting to end as soon as possible. Then I closed the window and cried. And then I started shaking and cursed my stupid fucking useless life wherein which I have to chase the snakes out of this fucking room and this fucking life on my own. Where is the justice? And why am I such a drama queen? Some things have no answers.

It was probably a harmless tree snake, and if you know different, I don't want to hear it. I'm almost certain it was a tree snake, and this is the third time in about as many weeks that I've seen it, though this is the first and hopefully last time it'll ever be in this room.

And so. The end. Was there any point to this story? No. Is there any point to my existence? No. Is there any point to any fucking thing? No. And yet it goes on. Boo fucking hoo. God, I hate snakes.

Cartoon by Wiley Miller

(click for a larger view)

"Non Sequitur", Sydney Morning Herald, 10-11 February 2007, p. 41.

The McKinsey conjoined quintuplets...

... find their niche.

Cartoon by Matthew Diffee, originally published in The New Yorker, 01 March 2004.

Best wishes for a pleasant Friday, reader.

Things I love: 4

How damn cute are these eggs??!!

Happy little faces from Sunny Queen Farms.


I took them for a walk outside to see the morning sun, and as you can see, they loved it!

Work safety

Work safety is important, and safety decals (stickers) have an important role to play in that important task. Here are two from the mower (a small tractor). The first one is located just below the steering wheel so that it's easy for the operator to see:


Warning! Get to a library!

The next one is found on the new deck (the part housing the mowing blades) and... Don't know, maybe it's just me? I look and look and can't make much sense of it. I'm wondering and I'm worried.


Repel dangerous rays! Get in a box?

Things I love: 3

The current Amazon website. "Tell us how you really feel, honey." :)


And Flickr any time, every time. They manage to put light-heartedness into everything, and it's such a treat, bless 'em. The current members' sign in page (please note the final line):

Stupidly buoyant

Sometimes you've got to laugh because it's funny.

I need to go to town today to get food, because I'm starting to starve to death... Not really, but I am down to less than 50 teabags, and that's the signal: time to go to the supermarket (something I put off as long as possible).

I don't want to go to town. I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay here on the farm and hide away from the world and run this day the same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that, and just keep living this whole safe routine over and over until extinction of life thankfully intervenes to stop the fun. Kind of joking, and also kind of not. And this morning I started writing notes on this phenomenon - the not wanting to go to town because I'd rather die phenomenon - just as a way to get outside the experience and be more objective and try to see what's going on.

I'll probably do a post about this some time (that is the intention) but something funny happened earlier - a side event. Someone rang about a farm matter, and though I often get quite stupid and anxious about phone calls, this one went well. He said what he had to say, I replied in the appropriate manner, and that was that. Quite amazing, in a small quiet way, and I was just writing notes about this, about the fact that sometimes things go well, and that the problem isn't usually the situation itself, the problem is that I get overly analytical and self-critical and too caught up in myself. When I don't do that, things go well. The phone call had been fine. It hadn't been something to worry about. So in other words, I can handle things like this. I can do this. It's no big deal.

So how long was it before I stopped feeling good about the phone call and started analysing it? (If you're similarly inclined, you're probably grinning, reader. Doesn't take us long, does it?) Maybe two minutes maximum of feeling happy and pleased, and then in my notes I was into it: 'I'm already knocking myself** about what I said on the phone, my tone of voice in saying "Fantastic!" It was too jovial, too happy, inappropriate for the situation, it would have sounded stupid, sounded like someone being buoyant.'

Sounded like someone being buoyant... Not joking. That's what I wrote. I was worried about sounding too buoyant... Buoyant: cheerful or resilient. Like that's a bad thing? I mean, what?? I'm worried about sounding too buoyant??!!

Bloody hell, reader! Please, you've got to laugh. I am (now), and thank God for that.

:)

** Criticising, finding fault.

May as well laugh...

Councillors heard that Peter Mickleburgh, district councillor for the Mulbarton area, is number 9 on the list of people eligible to use the 8-person nuclear bunker at South Norfolk House.
- Mercury & Advertiser, Norfolk.

Cartoon by Bill Leak, but I didn't record the source details of the clipping, sorry. It was from an Australian magazine years ago (1980s/90s).

I haven't been able to check whether the Mercury & Advertiser report was genuine, but a quick google revealed that in 2003 a Peter Mickleburgh was elected for a 4-year term as a Mulbarton Parish Councillor. My guess is that he's now fighting his way to the top of the list. Go Peter! ;)

(click on image for a larger size)

Early profiling...

Cartoon by J.C. Duffy, originally published in The New Yorker, 08 September 2003, found via a website which no longer allows a person to steal a picture file (this particular person now using a screen-capture, trim and enlarge arrangement).

Things I love: 2

I love clouds and the sky and my camera and making pictures with them, and I love this photo.

How to be evil

The Chinese President, Hu Jintao, will visit Sudan today. China has strong financial ties with the country, mostly based on oil interests, and could bring much pressure to bear on the Sudanese government. Please keep that in mind if you read this article, China's Hu to visit Sudan to review trade, not abuses.

In other news, Leading Sudan independent newspaper closed, ostensibly for publishing articles which might jeopardise a court case.

UPDATE

How to be partially non-evil

According to an anonymous Sudanese official who was present at their meeting, Chinese president tells Sudan counterpart he must do more for peace in Darfur.

(via Sudan Watch, thanks)

AND:

President Hu reportedly pledged 40 million yuan ($48 million - USD?) in humanitarian aid for Darfur: China's Hu tells Sudan it must solve Darfur issue. Please note that he also agreed to give Sudan an interest-free loan of 100 million yuan - compared to 40 million pledged in aid - for the building of a new Presidential palace. Thank God, eh? A palace is so important when you have a country to run.

PLUS:

The Committee to Protect Journalists with more information on the closing of the Sudanese newspaper: Paper banned for reporting on murdered editor.

Macquarie Dictionary Word of the Year 2006

(Following on from an earlier post)

And the winner was:

muffin top

noun Colloquial the fold of fat around the midriff which, on an overweight woman, spills out over the top of tight-fitting pants or skirts.

According to the results page, "The Committee thought that the vivid imagery of this word with its sense of playfulness and the fact that it is an Australianism made it the clear winner."

But that's not all the Committee (or at least the person writing up the competition results) had to say. Said Committee gave honourable mention to three terms, the last of which was "plausible deniability", and the definition of that term was followed by something which I would call "a political statement" (I've added italics so you just can't miss it):

plausible deniability
noun a carefully crafted situation in which a member of government can deny any association with any illegal or unpopular activities carried out by servants of the government in the event that these activities become public.

This term was first used by the CIA in relation to their activities in the Kennedy Administration. It does seem to have become a key feature of the American, British and Australian governments over the last decade.

:) Go the Macquarie!