Reheated (125)
On a musical theme, some items from the archives.
Don’t Oppress My People With Your White-Ass Folk Music.
Sheffield academics spend £1.5M to “decolonise” folk singing.
Still, perhaps we can look forward to an academic interrogation of classic car shows in Nottinghamshire as some heinous bastion of “white-centricity.” Another item on the list of Things That Must Be Decolonised And Morally Corrected.
“Our aim,” says Fay Hield, professor of music at the University of Sheffield, “is to break down the barriers for people to get involved in folk music. Opening up the genre to different audiences will help to sustain the nation’s folk music for decades to come.”
Different audiences. Not the audience it actually has, mind, the one it attracts, and which is arrived at via choice and musical inclination. No actual barriers to participation are specified, of course. But the actually existing audience is nonetheless all wrong, apparently.
Having covered quite a few of these “decolonisation” efforts, which generally rely on a fig-leaf of widening access and removing barriers, it’s remarkable just how rarely any meaningful obstacle to access is actually mentioned. Typically, the humdrum is depicted as gruelling and somehow agonising, and motes are inflated to the size of boulders.
We were told, for instance, that racial minorities are being “deterred” from visiting the British countryside “due to deep-rooted, complex barriers.” Barriers such as the fact that rock-climbing instructors are usually white. And apparently this unremarkable state of affairs, in a white-majority country, is something that needs fixing.
Though it occurs to me that if a person with brown skin were being deterred from trying rock climbing by the fact that the instructor is likely to be white, then it seems somewhat unlikely that said person is interested in rock climbing to any significant extent. And a person deterred by such things may also want to reflect on their own racial assumptions. But we’re not supposed to mention those, at least not in an unflattering light.
Decolonise Choir is all about healing and coexistence. No white devils allowed.
As the only racial group being explicitly excluded is Old Whitey, the obvious inference is that the cause of all this alleged misery and “trauma” is the party being excluded. As if the mere proximity of People Of Pallor would inhibit and befoul any creative endeavour, any glimmer of “joy.” Given the minority status of white people in London, it seems a bit much. And ever so slightly ungrateful.
And it is, I think, worth noting that the nation’s capital, where these dramas of “resistance” unfold, has in my lifetime gone from a native white-majority city, over 90%, to a native white-minority one, around 35%. Yet it would seem that even this dramatically downsized white devil population is, for some, still too burdensome and oppressive. A cause of “collective trauma.”
Have You Tried Less Tiresome Music?
On rap, the ‘N’ word, and dumb academia.
I ask because we’re told – by Dr Jeremy McCool and Dr Tyrone Smith, two devotees of “critical race theory” – that a failure to gush with enthusiasm is a result of “systemic bias and inherent prejudice,” and is suppressing such innovation. It is, they say, “the silencing of intellectuals in music.”
It’s perhaps worth noting how one of the most hazardous of words to use – one that may result in a kicking or sudden unemployment, and from which All Decent Non-Racist People are expected to recoil – is simultaneously one to which All Decent Non-Racist People are supposed to be drawn, or at least happy to tolerate. Provided it’s being mouthed, endlessly, by idiots of a certain hue. And failing to have a taste for this experience, over and over again, is, we’re now told, evidence of racism.
For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
Oh, and lest you forget, this rickety barge is kept afloat by the buttons below.





🎯
Minnesota ICE.
Well, one might, for instance, imagine moving to South Korea and then complaining about how the rock-climbing instructors are very often Korean. And that this is somehow oppressive and unfair.
It would sound a little… odd. Not an obvious basis for sympathy or expensive, supposedly corrective measures.
And yet, here we are.
[ Slides hairbrush of unknown origin to Dicentra. ]
On the house.
And it’s worth considering how the obvious oddness of the premise, as illustrated above, has not impeded its rapid propagation, often at taxpayer expense. Instead, there’s an air of unearned self-evidence, as if even questioning the assumptions in play could only be a result of seething racial animus.
Which itself is rather odd.
Long may she float. PING
Bless you, sir. Should you buy handwash, may the bottle you’ve picked from the supermarket shelf be one with a dispensing mechanism that actually works.
#TrueLifeDrama
Like there’s anything brave about what they’re doing…
Ping!
Quite. The word unflinching was just a tad self-flattering, a wee bit inapt, something of a tell, given the current fashion for badmouthing Whitey, at least among people much like themselves, and given the comical feebleness of their, um, research.
Research that – despite costing the taxpayer £1,485,400 plus extra funding from Research England – was so inadequate and so poorly conceived that these lofty and unflinching academics were obliged to admit that no conclusions could be drawn from it, even tentatively. At least, no conclusions of a kind that would suit their agenda.
But it seems we’re expected to believe that these parasitic clowns are being immensely daring and non-conformist, while airing the same high-status views mouthed by their peers. The views on which their careers in large part depend.
Bless you, sir. May you always have a choice of soup. And suitably fancy bread.
Thing that never happens, etc etc.
Ah, a reheated series.
Pass the ketchup, please.
Minnesota ICE.
This is what AI was made for and I applaud it.
HP Sauce, surely? It is the superior product.
[ Awaits rumblings of dissent. ]
I erally don’t think she was “skipping” so much as maybe . . . plodding.
HP Sauce, surely? It is the superior product.
I am more likely to reach for some Tapatio or sriracha sauce.
My God. It’s as if they always loudly shout what they are, but “the good people” religiously refuse to see.
Max Frisch elegantly skewered that blindness in 1953.
Well, yes.
See also.
I particularly liked the Greek Chorus of firemen.
Minnesota ICE.
In the Hallmark Christmas film opening, I was expecting the artisanal bakery and cafe with the Africans walking across frame with their pumpkin spice lattes, because you can’t have a whitopia on film these days without them. Making all four children white breaks those conventions, and even allowing for one of the children is maybe part Asian, it’s still going in the right direction.
But DR3 (dems are the real racists) as the memorable joke and final takeaway point undermines the entire case, reestablishing the principle that whites can only have as much self advocacy as blacks, the true moral authority, choose to endorse for them.
Would that we had more of it.
And as I hope I made clear, the definition of intellectual favoured by our devotees of “critical race theory” does seem rather, um, generous.
Other terms are available.
Being disappeared.
(via)
And much, much, more accurate.
Seems more ‘pro-rape’ than ‘anti-ICE’.
Just realised – with crushing, sickening horror – that the cheese and onion baps I picked up in haste – and which I was quite looking forward to wrapping around a burger this evening – are wheat-and-gluten-free.
[ Screams into void. ]
Now having flashbacks to the vegan custard incident of 2024.