Elsewhere (273)
Natalie Solent on magical thinking, then and now:
Nongqawuse was a fifteen year old Xhosa girl who in 1856 had a vision in which three ancestral spirits told her that if the Xhosa people showed their trust by destroying their crops and killing their cattle, then on the appointed day the spirits would raise the dead, bountifully replace all that was destroyed, and sweep the British into the sea. Thousands believed this prophecy and slaughtered their cattle. But the dead slept on and the British remained in place. Nongqawuse explained that this lack of action was due to the amagogotya, the stingy ones, who had kept their cattle back from slaughter. She urged everyone to greater efforts. A new date was set for the prophecy to finally come true. The rate of cattle-killing rose to a climax. Eventually the Xhosa lost patience, and, with remarkable mercy, handed Nongqawuse over to the British. By then famine had reduced the population of British Kaffraria from 105,000 to fewer than 27,000.
Do click for the ‘now’ part.
Konstantin Kisin on the unhappy realities of ‘progressive’ utopia:
These enemies of the [Soviet] state included my great-grandparents who met in a concentration camp for political prisoners. Every morning at their camp, three people would be picked out at random from the general population of the camp and thrown into the icy waters of the lake to freeze and drown in full view of the other prisoners to ‘keep things under control.’ With this background, I am —perhaps understandably— hypersensitive to the emerging far-left in Western politics. I can’t help noticing similarities in the rhetoric about “eradicating inequality,” “smashing the class system,” and a new age of “radical egalitarianism.” And when I do, I shudder, because… it’s a reminder of the unforgiving reality that those who don’t realise how good they have it, or take their lives of plenty for granted, are vulnerable to demagogic ideologies that promise to tear it all down to build a ‘better tomorrow.’
At which point, these budding intellectuals came to mind.
Alexander Zubatov on the importance of cultural cohesion:
The more diverse we become, the harder we must work to achieve trust and unity… We cannot continue functioning as a nation if we do not first start thinking of ourselves as a nation once more. And thinking of ourselves as a nation means thinking of ourselves as one tribe. It does not have to be… a tribe constituted on the basis of ethnicity or race. But… liberal values of tolerance, pluralism, and equality are surely not enough to bond us together. While racial or ethnic tribalism is to be eschewed, cultural nationalism is indispensable. If our primal evolutionary biases are to be overcome, we must do more than integrate. Paradoxical though it may sound, to avoid the extremes of a resurgent chauvinism, we must assume a national identity; we must assimilate.
And Karin McQuillan on life near the border:
Another neighbour arrived home from the hour and a half trip to the nearest supermarket. The ground was muddy, so he carried his five-year-old daughter to the front door of his small house. When he turned around with a heavy bag of groceries in each arm, there was an illegal standing in the doorway, between him and his daughter. The illegal was wearing the man’s clothes, his hat, and was holding his gun. Given the circumstances, the American father ran the guy off with no confrontation. Next day, border patrol called. They’d caught the thief — could he come by to identify his clothes and gun. The answer was sure, but it would be two hours, as he was at a doctor’s appointment. Our neighbour was told, “We’re not allowed to hold him that long. We’ll have to let him go.” And they did.
As usual, feel free to share your own links and snippets, on any subject, in the comments.
The more diverse we become, the harder we must work to achieve trust and unity
Multi-racial society or multi-cultural society? Pick one.
Multi-racial society or multi-cultural society? Pick one.
The Zubatov piece reminded me of this item from way back in the archives, in which Pendle Council, under the control of Liberal Democrats, reprimanded Matthew Carter, a black dustman born in Barbados, for wearing a St George’s Cross bandana to keep his dreadlocks out of the way:
Mr Carter was told by the Council that his bandana “could be considered offensive and racist.” Rather than, say, heartening. Apparently, in the name of progress, we must show distaste for national symbols, even when embraced by recent arrivals.
Above, Mr Carter, being offensive.
“Oh, and our Chancellor-in-waiting says that he will overthrow capitalism.”
Any minute now.
No, wait, it’ll happen.
*whistles*
Any minute now.
Worth repeating this, I think.
Just a couple days ago I finished reading Koba the Dread: Laughter and the Twenty Million
Despite already being well read in communism’s depredations, Martin Amis’s prose, and approach, hit particularly hard.
Marxists, communists, socialists, call themselves that they will. Moral cretins, every one of them.
“Dinner” or “tea”? A debate ensues.
P.S.: I happened to be in the USSR during the last full weekend of its existence — even now I wonder if it was something I said.
What. A. Shit. Hole. Shitty beyond the power of words to even meekly portray. Shitty from top to bottom, in every detail, no matter how mundane.
Apologies for the language, but there’s really nothing else for it.
“Dinner” or “tea”?
See, now I’m confused again (again?)…I thought “tea” was something you had mid-afternoon. With crumpets and such (whatever crumpets are). And scones. I think there’s supposed to be scones. And watercress sammiches. Whatever a watercress is. Prolly just some form of crumpet? The dinner=lunch thing is confusing enough for us Yanks. Y’all remind me of the Japanese not naming their streets to confuse invaders…or so I was told…prolly another lie. Is this in case the Vikings ever come back they won’t know when to eat? Or do Scandis use the same terminology? So if tea is dinner and dinner is lunch, when is supper? And where do the pickled eggs and camel hump fat fit into all this? Are they appropriate for tea?
(whatever crumpets are)
[ Faints with indignation. ]
“Dinner” or “tea”?
I’m assuming Second Breakfast and Elevenses were removed during the decimalisation of the 70s?
At which point, these budding intellectuals came to mind.
Those people are the kind that frighten me. No doubt they are, or at least view themselves to be, potential political leaders of the future. Now, either they’re utterly ignorant of just what the phrase “cultural revolution” means in it’s wider context, (which is not a good luck for a supposedly educated university student), or more chillingly, they know full well what it means, and don’t care.
If it’s the former, I’m not sure I want anyone that ignorant in a position of power. If it’s the latter, then I certainly don’t want sociopaths like those anywhere near a position of power. And if they do claim ignorance they should be called out on it. Repeatedly. About a year ago Katie Hopkins* was called out, (I think probably rightly, given the background of the phrase) for her use of the words “final solution” in a tweet about terrorists after one of the attacks in Britain. If it applies to her it should equally apply to them.
*For non-UK readers, Katie Hopkins is a rather vulgar, loud-mouthed ex-reality TV star turned newspaper columnist and radio show presenter.
Is this in case the Vikings ever come back they won’t know when to eat?
Heh. I thought you Johnny Foreigners might enjoy the, um, complexities of our geographical and class distinctions.
I thought “tea” was something you had mid-afternoon.
That’s *afternoon* tea. 🙂
“Dinner” or “tea”? A debate ensues.
I call it supper. What does that make me?
when is supper?
Supper is a faintly genteel term for the evening meal, more commonly (though not exclusively) used in the south. Not be to be confused with the usage more common in the north, which is a snack before bed, hours after dinner (or indeed tea).
Do keep up.
I call it supper. What does that make me?
Classy as all hell. Did you wander in here by mistake?
Here in the South (the American South) and in other agricultural areas in the country, “dinner” was the noontime meal as, back in the days before commercialized farming, the family would go out to the fields before or by sunrise, work, then come in at noonish at the heat of the day to have their big meal of the day, i.e., dinner. Then they’d go back out and not come in til sunset, when the family would have a lighter meal, supper.
(That’s how my grandmother, of blessed memory, told me of the distinction.)
To this day, you can still hear people what grew up in rural areas ask at noontime, that is to say lunchtime, and say, “Hey, let’s go get some dinner.”
“That’s *afternoon* tea.”
“High tea” if there are sandwiches and/or sausage rolls.
I’m not sure the dinner/tea thing is all that clear cut. Note that it’s only 75% dinner in the ABC1 south and 68% tea in the C2DE north. In other words, there are still plenty of posh southerners who call it tea and even more working-class northerners who call it dinner. Nothing about Scotland, but being basically northerners up to the Highland Line, I’d put money on this being tea country. However I definitely find myself using both interchangeably. When I was a kid, it was dinner in our house, but most of my friends had tea.
Shitty from top to bottom, in every detail, no matter how mundane.
https://thompsonblog.co.uk/2015/05/elsewhere-164.html – “And here’s a Moscow supermarket circa 1990, filmed by Rick Suddeth. As you can see, the egalitarian retail experience is leaving shoppers happier and more morally elevated”
In my childhood categorisation, a dinner-at-lunchtime type was somebody who could get a better or cheaper hot meal in their workplace canteen than they could get at home. It dates from a pre-Ikea culture where fully-equipped kitchens were beyond the income and aspirations of a lot of people – single people living in “lodgings” with stingy landladies, married homeowners with cramped kitchens that you could just about fry an egg in.
Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner
And what you had when you got home from school was a “snack” – with mom insisting it be limited to a half-sandwich and a piece of fruit least we “spoil” our dinner.
Though for my more agrarian cousins in Kentucky “dinner” was mid-afternoon and “supper” was evening.
However I definitely find myself using both interchangeably.
Yes, same here. Obviously, we’re terribly cosmopolitan.
“And here’s a Moscow supermarket circa 1990, filmed by Rick Suddeth. As you can see, the egalitarian retail experience is leaving shoppers happier and more morally elevated”
I’m reminded of a story I heard from a coworker, about some woman who had escaped some communist hellhole. And when she first went into an American supermarket, she fell to her knees and wept. Amusingly, this coworker had also owned and operated his own business as well, and yet was still a Bernie bro. I guess because Sanders wants REAL socialism, or something.
But at least he didn’t knock capitalism. He was probably just looking for something closer to Scandanavia, which is probably closer to a matter of personal preference (though he still believed in the $15 minimum wage…). How people can look at our society, and think “Well this all has to go” astonishes me. Our peasents live like kings. More to a more rural part of the country, get even a crappy job, and maybe put off having kids, and you’ll have more than enough to be the envy of 99% of humanity who has ever lived. Could things be even better? Of course, but the idiots who think capitalism is wicked could not be more willfully blind.
How people can look at our society, and think “Well this all has to go” astonishes me.
Some cannot handle choice: it leaves them terribly confused and stressed out by the need to make decisions. Perhaps such people should be permitted to volunteer to become slaves.;-)
Some cannot handle choice: it leaves them terribly confused
And some are just pleased by the thought of denying others the options that they themselves enjoy.
Shitty from top to bottom, in every detail, no matter how mundane.
Back in the mid-’80s, my in-laws took an organized tour to Soviet Mother Russia from Western Europe. They recalled riding on a bus in Moscow from their hotel to the airport and seeing a long line of people shuffling ahead. The line stretched for more than two city blocks. At the end of the line was a horse drawn wagon containing fruit of some sort–apples, the father-in-law thought. The state of the produce was such that, “we wouldn’t even feed those to our pigs.” Yet there were hundreds of people queuing up to spend what little disposable income they had on them. No wonder such people wept upon seeing a modern supermarket.
Classy as all hell. Did you wander in here by mistake?
I don’t know how I wandered into this place. But it was some time ago now. And that I do know.
Some cannot handle choice
As one of our betters, Bernie Sanders, has said:
a choice of 23 underarm spray deodorants
I wonder what fate Mr Sanders had in mind for all the people whose livelihoods depend on making, and selling, those deodorants and trainers, and all of the other things he deems unnecessary.
I don’t know how I wandered into this place.
Well, we are sited between the massage parlour and the porno cinema.
I wonder what fate Mr Sanders had in mind for all the people whose livelihoods depend on making, and selling, those deodorants and trainers, and all of the other things he deems unnecessary.
You know very well what he had in mind: he expected them to be impoverished, and dependent upon the benefits handed down by his benevolent administration, and so grateful for their scraps that they’d forget all about how it was he who decided that they needed to be put in a low position so that he could remain in his high one.
Thomas Sowell
I wonder what fate Mr Sanders had in mind for all the people whose livelihoods depend on making, and selling, those deodorants and trainers, and all of the other things he deems unnecessary.
They are “affordable losses”, the eggs that must be broken to make the omelet of socialism.
What’s more, Bernie the bonehead doesn’t realize that it is the competition of competing brands that keeps business efficient. In the workers paradise that he envisions there will be no competition, no incentive to be efficient, and no price signals to tell producers what to make and not to make. Not that Bernie cares about any of that.
Bernie was kicked out of a hippie commune for sitting around talking about socialism when he was supposed to be doing real work. That’s weapons-grade laziness.
The more diverse we become, the harder we must work to achieve trust and unity
That doesn’t really square well with human nature I’m afraid. It’s like True Socialism(tm). Sounds nice when expounded in an ivory tower, but when implemented in the real world…
I hesitate to post this link, but I know Tim Newman links to the relevant site, so I’m not the only one hereabouts who has visited it. Anyway, there’s a compilation of links to studies on the relation between diversity and social cohesion available here.
Fair warning, that site is very much a mixed bag, and not terribly diplomatic.
Well, we are sited between the massage parlour and the porno cinema.
I like a drink between screenings.
Wow, the academic Clown Quarter has begat.
I like a drink between screenings.
Actually, decades ago, the Other Half and I lived opposite a small porno cinema – sorry, private members film club – which was run by our landlady at the time. This was pre-internet, of course. I ventured into the office once, to deliver a cheque.
It was surprisingly clean.
I don’t know how I wandered into this place.
I just came in to use the gents and I’ve been trapped here for months.
Well, we are sited between the massage parlour and the porno cinema.
Ah, yes. I popped in for a glass of Scotch while waiting for a shoulder massage. Soon after my local watering-hole closed for a refurbishment, and I had no where else to go.
I just came in to use the gents and I’ve been trapped here for months.
The combination to the chain locks is 502104 665798. Please don’t ask me how I know – it’s a memory I’d rather forget.
Though for my more agrarian cousins in Kentucky “dinner” was mid-afternoon and “supper” was evening.
Dang border staters and all you high toned English fellers. In this here corner of Dixie, it is just squat-n-gobble.
Well, we are sited between the massage parlour and the porno cinema.
That’s odd, as I presume the correct order of things is first the drink, then the movie, and lastly the massage.
I happened to be in the USSR during the last full weekend of its existence . . . .
A friend has a story of being in college and taking—as I recall the names and sequence—
History Of The Soviet Union
The Soviet Union And Eastern Europe
Current Events in Eastern Europe
Eastern European Community And Culture
. . . . . . and this was all the same course during one semester.
a choice of 23 underarm spray deodorants
I wonder what fate Mr Sanders had in mind for all the people whose livelihoods depend on making, and selling, those deodorants and trainers, and all of the other things he deems unnecessary.
I rather believe that Digitsole Smartshoe | The World’s First Intelligent Sneaker just might be the sort of thing that Senator Sanders just might be referring to . . . .
“Actually, decades ago, the Other Half and I lived opposite a small porno cinema – sorry, private members film club – which was run by our landlady at the time.”
Back in the late ’80s, one of the best video arcades in Glasgow was next door to a porno cinema. As a teenager, I was always terrified some Responsible Adult of my acquaintance would see me and think I was, er… going to the movies. (But it had the sit-down hydraulic OutRun cabinet, so it was totally worth it.)
A long thread immediately familiar to those who’ve been dragooned into chaperoning a bunch elementary-aged school kids on a long outing. By all means, read the whole thing.
R. Sherman
Oh, that’s not fair! I’m about halfway through and needed to break – I’m laughing, hard, and needed to grab the box of tissues because of the tears streaming down my face.
Catching breath now — ANNNNNND returning to thread…
I think I need a nap…. snort guffaw …
“Farts. Farts are occurring.”
“Sir? Do you have pubes?”
“You can learn a lot at the Science Museum. I’ve learnt that the collective name for a group of ten yearbook olds is a ‘twat-hive’”