Slowed down fire-breathing. 

High resolution here.

Time for another selection of Classic Sentences from the Guardian. Or rather the Guardian’s Sunday sister paper, the Observer. Until recently, I had thought the Observer’s commentary wasn’t quite as obnoxiously self-loathing as the material that swills all but daily through the piping of the Guardian. Sadly, it seems I was mistaken:

Fewer British babies would mean a fairer planet.

So barks the headline of AlexRenton’s latest exercise in ecological hair-tearing. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. It’s just another overexcited sub-editor and not representative of an otherwise measured and sober article. However, the first line reads,

The worst thing that you or I can do for the planet is to have children.

And besides,

One less British child would permit some 30 women in sub-Saharan Africa to have a baby and still leave the planet a cleaner place.

It continues,

Why not start cutting population everywhere? Are condoms not the greenest technology of all?

Inevitably, we veer tantalisingly close to China’s state reproduction policy:

It was certainly the most successful governmental attempt to preserve the world’s resources so far.

And there’s this little gem.

A cull of Australians or Americans would be at least 60 times as productive as one of Bangladeshis.

So several candidates there – from, lest we forget, a progressive and liberal newspaper.

Deciding not to have a child because of their estimated annual CO2 production is a particularly wretched parental calculus and suggests either pathological self-disgust or pretensions thereof. I suspect Alex Renton measures his moral and intellectual sophistication by the extent to which he loathes his own culture, and by extension himself. That, or he pretends such for the benefit of other, likeminded souls. Happily, he’s found a cause well suited to the cultivation of such feelings. Less happily, he presumes to share his leanings with others, coercively if necessary:

Could children perhaps become part of an adult’s personal carbon allowance? Could you offer rewards: have one child only and you may fly to Florida once a year?

Readers may feel inclined to assist Mr Renton in his totalitarian urges by gnawing off his testicles and tossing them on a fire. And then doing the same to any male children he may recklessly have sired. For Gaia, of course.

Things I must track down, #312. // Not everyone can do this. (h/t, Drunkablog) // When slugs make love. // A visual history of the mobile phone. // The making of a giant cardboard camera. // Magnetricity. (h/t, The Thin Man) // Machinarium. // Alternative timelines. (h/t, Mr Eugenides) // Nintendo flashback, 1988. // Findings of a radiographer. // The Bloodybelly Comb Jelly. // The YikeBike. // The Smart Hand. // A piano speaks. // The inherent grotesquery of child beauty pageants. // A world of vampire tat. // Carl Sagan sings again. // And, via The Thin Man, it’s the return of Mr Elvis Aaron Presley.

Just 8 km in diameter, Saturn’s moon Daphnis casts its shadow. The tiny moon’s gravity creates waves in Saturn’s A ring that extend above the plane to a height of 1.5 km. Image taken by Cassini in visible light on June 26, at a distance of approximately 823,000 km from Daphnis.

More, with animations. Related: Planetary Bling.

A while ago, on the subject of identity politics and competitive victimhood, I wrote:

As if to illustrate this point, the Observer’s Andrew Anthony profiles Jane Elliott, a “diversity training” pioneer and Witchfinder General for the modern age:

Note Elliott’s disregard for context, motive or objective criteria. “Perception is everything,” says she. By which she means the perception, or misperception, of one party only. This is the premise of Elliott’s crusade – to provide moral correction for all pale-skinned people. The particulars of an exchange and who did what to whom are all but immaterial; what matters is which party belongs to the Designated Victim Group, as defined by Jane Elliott and others in the trade. Clearly, moral logic isn’t Elliott’s strong suit; hers is the realm of pantomime and emotional bullying.

As Elliott’s own publicity material makes clear, she “does not intellectualise… she uses participants’ own emotions to make them feel discomfort, guilt, shame, embarrassment and humiliation.” And there’s the rub. Once rendered suitably emotional and distressed, her subjects can be re-educated so much more easily. Want to see how? Elliott’s 1996 workshop documentary Blue Eyed can be viewed here. The fun starts around the 2:00 mark with the guy and his name tag. And pay close attention to the exchange around 5:40, before the “exercise” begins.

We’ve seen this unhinged and pernicious nonsense before of course, not least from Peggy McIntosh and her “invisible knapsacks of privilege,” and Shakti Butler, who tells unsuspecting students that, “the term [racist] applies to all white people living in the United States.” Like McIntosh and Butler, Elliott’s formulation of guilt is presumptive, unilateral and based on a conviction that “white ignorance is the problem.” (A problem that “we white folks have now managed to export… all over the world.”) Thus, guilt is framed as a collective phenomenon and effectively a function of a person’s pigmentation. So no racism there, clearly.

Bearing in mind how “perception is everything” and what that entails, it seems unlikely that realistic argument will be encouraged or looked on kindly. And those who happen to have pale skin and are unfortunate enough to fall within Elliott’s influence may not wish to be held hostage by every passing opportunist or liar with a grudge.

Sceptical readers may wonder if Elliott reveals more than she intends when telling her captive audiences that “a new reality is going to be created,” that they have “no power, absolutely no power,” and that her title, “bitch,” stands for “Being In Total Control, Honey.” And some readers may question the credibility and motives of an “educator” who tells students that, “white people invented racism.” Transcending such vices is of course impossible, except through Ms Elliott and her tender ministrations. Being as she is the self-appointed gatekeeper of redemption through guilt.

Slow motion bullets. 1 million frames per second. (h/t, Ace) // Assorted screen caps. Name that film. (nsfw) (h/t, Coudal) // Adult Chupa Chups. (h/t, Chastity Darling) // Icycle. // Moth-retardant toothpaste. // Time lapse thunderstorm. // Melon carving. // Hey kids, your very own Golem costume. // The world of Bang and Olufsen. // Automotive graveyard. // Glass and stone and glue. // Flatworm penis fencing. // Yes, the pleasuring pony is what you think it is. (h/t, Dan) // On Clarkson and Python. // Garlic can be pickled. // The abandoned Pilgrim State Asylum. // Mind the avalanche. // And, via The Thin Man, it’s Ms Jenni Scott.

Here’s a thing. Wait for the big chap about 3:45.

(h/t, Anna.)

50 years of space exploration.

1 meg version here. Zoom version here. Image by Sean McNaughton and Samuel Velasco. Via Coudal.  

Readers may recall a recent post on the wisdom of Margaret Jamison, a guru of sorts to a small circle of admirers. Ms Jamison is a lesbian feminist who defines rape as “all penile intercourse” on grounds that, “there is something wrong with this notion that a woman’s ‘consent’ is what separates a rapist from a non-rapist.” When not insisting that “all heterosex is rape,” Jamison’s thoughts turn a little too readily to the subject of harming children: “I believe male infanticide to be a better option than the current circumstances. I think it’s better than what we’ve got.”

Ms Jamison’s latest declarations concern a matter of some delicacy. It begins in the usual, rather grandiose way:

What I want more than anything is for women to achieve a state of being that is untainted. I especially want us to free ourselves from male rule and influence, for us to be unaltered in ways that are modeled on maleness.

Then it gets a little coy.

The reliance of women on various man-made implements to mediate their relations with other women, whether psychological constructs or manufactured goods, is an adulteration of the female.

Ms Jamison is very big on The Unargued Assertion and she likes to pile ‘em high. I’m not quite sure what the psychological constructs in question might be, but in case it isn’t clear, those “manufactured goods” include strap-ons, dildos and other such devices:  

Femaleness cannot be enhanced by maleness, only denied, suppressed, and degraded, lessened. The master’s tools inhabit our minds and the realm of our physical lives… And I don’t think that a tool forged by males or in their likeness is any less male when wielded by women.

Oh, I do like that – The master’s tools. Very good.

Given the all-pervasive nature of The Crushing Patriarchy and its Symbols of Dominion™ – and given the obligation of all women to shun such indecencies – this can create problems of an intimate nature. Penetration is patriarchal degradation, see? Even when the penetrator in question is a lady. So what’s a girl to do? Are fingers and tongues okay? Will scissoring suffice?

I see the Guardian has wheeled out Linda Bellos, another high priestess of identity politics, to air her umbrage at Top Gear’s Jeremy Clarkson. Clarkson, we’re told, “makes a living by being gratuitously offensive.” Unlike the elevated Ms Bellos, who makes a living by, among other things, being gratuitously offended. And saying things like this:

As Tim Worstall notes, Ms Bellos might have fared better if she’d done a little research and actually watched the programme she presumes to criticise. In fact, Top Gear has addressed issues of disability on at least three occasions, including, in season 2, a search for the fastest disabled driver in Britain. Fans of the series may also recall a race involving hastily customised double decker cars, during which a driver’s artificial arm became detached from his person while still gripping the wheel.

Given Top Gear’s popularity outside of Guardian circles, it’s no great surprise the series has disabled fans. And it’s perhaps worth noting that Clarkson is a founder of the Help for Heroes charity which raises funds for those injured and disabled during military service. The Guardian actually mentioned the charity and its advertising earlier this year, prompting a reader to complain,

Ms Bellos will doubtless be pleased to find others airing a worldview very similar to her own. And it’s always good to see moral one-upmanship and complaints of “the same sad old stereotypes” coming from a woman who abandoned her own children to live in a separatist lesbian commune.

Related: Clarkson versus Monbiot.