A Modest Proposal Concerning Percentages

Cherry-Pie Maths

First a confession: my mathematical ability is legendarily non-existent. An example: since I distinctly remember being taught that addition and multiplication are similar processes and subtraction is akin to division: it has never made sense to me that (according to one set of mathematical principles) one half divided by one half equals one quarter.

This is an example of what I fondly refer to as Cherry Pie Maths. If, in the above, you think of a half of something real, like a cherry pie, and multiply that by another half of something real, say another cherry pie, it is obvious that some of the pie has disappeared – with complete disregard for the Law of Conservation of Mass and Energy.

In my mathematical model one half times one half equals one. The cherry pie remains intact. Simple.

Mathematicians rant on about how, in this case, it is really one half of one half which equals one quarter. Interesting point – but I remain unconvinced. Perhaps this is why my conventional mathematical understanding is so legendarily suspect.

Which bring s me neatly to percentages. In the moment when the stock market is plunging like a herd of hippopotamuses , the credit crisis is biting like a cloud of ravenous mosquitoes and the inflation rate has assumed the stance of an early Chinese firework, each of the above being expressed as a percentage has become both misleading and in many cases downright unhelpful.

Why?

Consider this hypothetical situation: the rate of inflation in Zimbabwe suddenly comes under control. The price of a Zimbabwean loaf of bread at that moment is 1 million zimbabs (or whatever the currency in Harare is called). The new rate of inflation as measured as a percentage drops from 1000% to just one percent. Hooray!! Except that one percent of one million is 10 thousand. So the loaf of bread now costs one million ten thousand zimbabs. Sound like a bargain to you?

This fairly farcical example shows why percentages can be so misleading. So it is in the real work – discounting imaginary Zimbabwean currencies.

When you read that inflation has risen to 5% but is expected to fall back to 3% you may rejoice. You are being mislead. 5% of a large number is still a large number. That's my simple mathematical knowledge in action. When you read that the police have accepted a 2.5% pay rise it sounds small, but if the police are making 50,000 pounds a year, that 2.5% equals 1250 pounds or more than 100 pounds a month. If the dustmen, by contrast, manage to negotiate a 5% rise but only make 25,000 a year their actual cash benefit is exactly the same. The media would present the above as: Police Accept Moderate Pay-Rise and Bonanza on the Dustcarts – respectfully.

My first modest proposal. All pay rises are to be expressed in real terms, i.e. how much actual money is being earned.

My second modest proposal. Percentages will be banned from inflation figures. Inflation is only allowed to be expressed in real terms, I.e. last year the price of petrol was X and this year it is Y – the percentage increase is both misleading and irrelevant, so just leave it out.

My third modest proposal. Having achieved the above, we work diligently to eliminate percentages from the rest of society. No more 50% Off sales. If your TV used to be 1000 pounds (allegedly) and is now 500 just rejoice you bought it and ask yourself, “Should I pity the oick who actually paid 1000 for it?”

No more Reduced by 30% signs – 30% of what?

The possibilities are almost endless and actually rather satisfying!

Think about it. You know it makes sense. I'm sure Del Boy would approve.

Blogged with Flock

Diss, Diss, Diss - lexia

Reading?

I compulsively sort out my papers. I find it relaxing. I take a pile of papers on my desk and go through them methodically and, maybe, find one or two I can throw away. Lest I be accused of some un-natural vice, I confess that this urge only happens occasionally.

Somehow I had mis-placed a very interesting article, “Dyslexia: a label to get you off the hook?” for about 18 months. Shame really. It's quite an interesting article and theory. Shuffling my papers reunited us.

I thought I would try to remember when I first heard the term, dyslexic. I think it might be in the 80's – maybe late 80's. I tried looking this up on Google but got nowhere. I did find that there are a lot of good folks trying to sell you aids guaranteed to help you overcome this affliction. There's clearly money to be made in dyslexia.

Not only money but also a lot of kudos. This is the main thesis of the article in question: dyslexia has become the educational lexicon replacement term for lazy, bone-idle, inattentive, gormless little nerk chiefly because it allows parents to medicalise Little Jimmy or Joanie's lack of academic progress and, therefore, gain extra advantages in the exam system.

I know this doesn't sound exactly earth-shattering and probably doesn't rival nuclear proliferation or climate change (another perhaps equally spurious label) as a threat to Western democratic society, but it does highlight an important sociological trend I have long identified and often regretted.

A few academics, St John-like, assert that dyslexia as a medical or psychological condition just doesn't exist. The insist that some children just don't read very well and for a variety of reasons, many of which are their own fault. The difficulty here is that parents believe that reading is an inherent pointer of native intelligence and, ergo, if their child is having difficulty reading they cannot be unintelligent, so they must have some medical problem.

Wrong on both counts.

Reading is not really allied to intelligence. Understanding and being able to make out what is read needs a lot of intelligence, just reading the words does not. Likewise, unless there is a problem with eyesight or some other physiological difficulty, there is no reason any child cannot learn to read adequately.

But, reading requires concentration and application. In my experience, these are what are lacking in “poor readers”. Children who have never been exposed to reading rather dislike it. Children who would rather watch television than read a book are in the majority. Children who clutch at the dyslexic straw are really quite clever.

At a stroke, they have satisfied Mum and Dad that it isn't really their fault that they are not doing very well in school, gained a life-long advantage over the rest of the population and ensured that they will be looked on with pity and sympathy for the remainder of their days. Good call.

I spent some time working for a Social Worker who was dyslexic. Most of what she wrote was gibberish, but her reading was really very good.

You figure.

Blogged with Flock

Any Given Sunday

Chiefs pound Broncos

Avid readers waiting for me to comment on the “progress” of the K.C. Chiefs have been sorely disappointed so far this season.

Not surprising really after starting the season with three embarrassing defeats there was not much to write about. The manner of the defeats promised that a long and unfruitful season was likely to ensue.

The coaches and the management had already prepared the fans by “announcing” that this was a rebuilding year and a very much “a work in progress”. But, they didn't prepare the fans to be embarrassed or embittered. So after a respectable showing against New England the Chiefs sank without a trace against Oakland and Atlanta to move to 0-3. Carelessly they managed to lose a bunch of quarterbacks in the process. Heir apparent Brodie Croyle proved too fragile and was injured in game one. He may be back – but when is anyone's guess. Damon Huard started game two, got hurt, got his “head wrong” and refused to get back in the game – leaving rookie Tyler Thigpen to take the rap. Thigpen's reward? He got to start game three and was soon shown to be alarmingly frail and clearly not up to the job.

For game four, against the rampant Denver Broncos, it was back to Huard – with no real alternative. Denver were 3-0 and looking like sure-fire play-off contenders. The Chiefs had hit rock bottom and doubts were being expressed by the local media about Head Coach Herm Edwards' future prospects for employment Would the media and fans support him through an 0-16 season? Or, would his head have to roll to restore some credibility to the organisation?

In the event, neither scenario was needed.

The Chiefs discovered that Denver could neither run the ball or stop their opponents from doing so. They say stats don't lie and Denver were giving up shed-loads of yardage and first downs. Only their high-powered offence was prospering. Still, the supposedly infallible pundits on NFL Game Day were all in agreement – the Chiefs had no chance.

On game day the Chiefs gave the ball to running back Larry Johnson and he piled up nearly 200 yards. The defence, for once playing with the lead instead of catch-up, forced fumbles and intercepted passes. Special teams provided some field goals and respectable field position. In short, everything that had been going all wrong suddenly went all right.

From the Chiefs website:And D.J.L.J. was dancing in September thanks to his 198 yards rushing. Combined with a defensive effort that forced four turnovers and allowed the Denver offence just a single touchdown, the long nasty 12-game losing streak of the Chiefs came to an end.

The old adage, any given Sunday was proved right again.

Will the Chiefs go on to make the playoffs and post a winning season? Probably not, but in future years their resurgence will, no doubt, be clearly shown to have begun last Sunday at Arrowhead against the Broncos. We hope.

Blogged with Flock

Cross of Gold

Our brows are being well and truly pressed!

I have mentioned three time very recently to some supposedly educated folks the famous “Cross of Gold” speech. I thought everyone knew about it.

As usual, I was wrong.

I am indebted to Andrew Sullivan, writing in the Sunday Times for reminding the rest of the illiterati about this most famous expression of the Populist movement in early 20^th century America.

From the Sunday Times:

The result has been one of the most emphatic populist reactions in recent history. Not since the 1890s tub-thumper William Jennings Bryan have the “little people” expressed themselves so forcefully against what Bryan derided as “the few financial magnates who, in a back room, corner the money of the world”. In e-mails, faxes and phone calls, they too have told their congressmen: “You shall not press down upon the brow of labour this crown of thorns; you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.”

It is worthwhile quoting Bryan more fully:

There are two ideas of government. There are those who believe that if you just legislate to make the well-to-do prosperous, that their prosperity will leak through on those below. The Democratic idea has been that if you legislate to make the masses prosperous their prosperity will find its way up and through every class that rests upon it.

You come to us and tell us that the great cities are in favor of the gold standard. I tell you that the great cities rest upon these broad and fertile prairies. Burn down your cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up again as if by magic. But destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every city in the country.

My friends, we shall declare that this nation is able to legislate for its own people on every question without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation on earth, and upon that issue we expect to carry every single state in the Union.

I shall not slander the fair state of Massachusetts nor the state of New York by saying that when citizens are confronted with the proposition, “Is this nation able to attend to its own business?”—I will not slander either one by saying that the people of those states will declare our helpless impotency as a nation to attend to our own business. It is the issue of 1776 over again. Our ancestors, when but 3 million, had the courage to declare their political independence of every other nation upon earth. Shall we, their descendants, when we have grown to 70 million, declare that we are less independent than our forefathers? No, my friends, it will never be the judgment of this people. Therefore, we care not upon what lines the battle is fought. If they say bimetallism is good but we cannot have it till some nation helps us, we reply that, instead of having a gold standard because England has, we shall restore bimetallism, and then let England have bimetallism because the United States have.

If they dare to come out in the open field and defend the gold standard as a good thing, we shall fight them to the uttermost, having behind us the producing masses of the nation and the world. Having behind us the commercial interests and the laboring interests and all the toiling masses, we shall answer their demands for a gold standard by saying to them, you shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns. You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.

Gosh, thanks – I never knew that. I'm just so glad you told me. Honest, I can hear you, dear reader, eulogising as you sip your pint.

What's this got to do with us?

Pretty much everything.

What Bryan was moaning about a hundred years ago is pretty much what the credit crunch is all about today. A bunch of merchant bankers ( and you may substitute the rhyming slang if you feel so inclined ) have stupidly, immorally, greedily and selfishly hijacked the banking system, got themselves in so deep they are having to suck air through straws and are desperate for the government, any government, to bail them out; and, preferably, in such a way so as they can keep their immoral earnings and their yachts

Now you understand the credit crunch, at least as well as most of the bankers do anyway.

Where this analysis falls down is in believing that it could be any other way. Bankers, like the rest of us, are greedy and amoral. To expect them to act like virtuous public servants in the face of massive bonus promises is like expecting St Joan to prostitute herself to hordes of English soldiers in the market place at Rouen. It just ain't going to happen and never was.

What is most refreshing is to hear the common folk of the USA berating their government for even considering a bail-out. Let them rot, or let them eat cake seems to be the vox populi.

Contrast this neatly with the spineless surrender of Gordo in dealing with the Bradford and Bingley fiasco and you have neatly added a codicil to Shaw's “two peoples divided by a common language” paradigm. My monies on the USA.

Unfortunately, the populists never win. Bryan was a serial candidate for President, but he never won and was reduced to pleading for a rejection of Evolution in the famous Scopes trial.

Likely the credit crunch will see Ol Dubbya slink off to his Presidential library having bankrupted the nation both in war and peace. Quite an achievement.

Blogged with Flock

Donnie Hartman

Sadness.

Cyberspace is a strange world filled with unexpected and unknown thrills, excitement and, in many cases, disappointments.

I'm not a great surfer, either on the board, on the skate or on the net. I usually have a good idea of what I'm looking for and how to find it. Occasionally Google will throw up something unexpected, but I seldom flit about from site to site in classic surfing style.

I like to keep in touch with the home folks in Independence, Missouri by checking in on the Independence Examiner web site every so often. It's usually a five minute visit and a quick trawl through whatever seems interesting.

So, I was snooping about the other day and I saw one of their internet polls – you know the type – vote for your favourite local personality, singer, sports person. The Examiner were trying to find the most famous/best sports person ever from their readership. There were some nominations for professional baseball, football and other high-profile sports.

What caught my eye was the “blog” section at the bottom which asked readers to submit nominations. Someone had nominated Donald Hartman, who played basketball for Truman High School in the 1960's. I thought it odd at first that an “unknown” high school basketball player from the distant past would merit a mention in the most exalted company the Examiner readers could think of.

Then I remembered. I saw Donnie Hartman play basketball. I didn't know him personally, but we were only one year apart at school. He played basketball for Truman H.S. the year after the reorganisation of the Independence schools. He was,simply, one the best high school basketball players I ever saw.

Another light went on upstairs. I remembered that someone told me he was killed in Vietnam. Sure enough, if you Google “Donnie Hartman Vietnam “you will get:

http://www.virtualwall.org/dh/HartmanDO01a.htm

There is a very nice tribute there from a pal who knew him in the Army. It's what you'd expect. What struck me was the unexpected.

He was in the 101^st Airborne, and he was AUS. What that means is he was drafted. AUS stands for Army of the United States. If he was a volunteer, he would be RA (Regular Army) and not AUS. So, how did he get into the Airborne, which I believe was all volunteer? And, how did he get in the Army so soon? He was only 21. A note from his friend on his memorial page alludes to his basketball ability and tells that he went to college. Where? Why did he drop out? How did he end up in the Airborne? Who was his pal, Cliff? Who else remembers Donnie as an outstanding basketball player? Who, after all this time, remembered his talent so well as to nominate him as the best all-time Independence Examiner sports person? Does he still have family in Independence?

More questions that answers.

I remember Donnie Hartman. I wish I had known him better. Google can make you sad, though it is unintentional.

Blogged with Flock

Hype?

Get Real Sports Reporting

Two days in a row this week the front page of the EDP has been taken up entirely with the saga that is the Norwich City football club.

Never mind the stories themselves. What has me wondering is how the rest of the world copes without such riveting stuff to chew over.

And, it's not just the EDP. One night this week the lead story on the 6 o'clock News was the impending departure, or otherwise, of Kevin Keegan from Newcastle United.

What I wondered was this: are there no other stories which should be front page items? Is this really such a slow news week? Or, are the media just so lazy and ill-informed as to make real reporting too difficult and too time-consuming?

This week we have seen another hurricane hit the New Orleans area; the continuing Russian/Georgian conflict in that well-known flashpoint - the Balkans, the opening of the Republican National Convention in Minneapolis; the continuing credit crunch and any number of stories about the difficulties Gordon Brown and Alastair Darling are facing over the economy. All these have appeared in the news.

What I am asking is how can the comings and goings of football managers and the financial strength of Norwich City be front page news?

I had a quick check at the local media in Kansas City. The start of the NFL season is upon us. The sports page is full of news of the Chiefs. The front page is empty of idle, gormless speculation about who's in – who's out or who's up and who's down in the Chiefs' organisation.

Why should this be so? If you listen to the average man in the street they will gleefully assert that the Americans over-hype their sport. All the razzmatazz is across the pond. I've news. The UK media have overcome our trans-Atlantic cousins in the OTT stakes, by a long margin.

It's time that we gained some perspective in what's important and what's not. Sports fans should get to read about their team. It's on the back page.

Tomorrow's headline is already written. Delia has put another 2 million into the club to cover a (perceived) shortfall caused by the departure of the Turner money. That will make three days in a week when the EDP front page consists only of NCFC stories.

No, I have no inside info. But, remember, you heard it here first.

Blogged with Flock

V8 Milk Trucks

Italian Pots and Pans

My Dad was a milkman. For more than 40 years he was a milkman. What drove him mad were the folks who "cut him up". He took it very personally. He simply could not see that a slow-moving milk truck was always going to be passed by high-octane, high-velocity motor cars, and in the process some of them would cut it a bit close. It's just part of life.

Not in his book. It was personal.

So, one summer when I was about 19 he decided that he had had enough. He had the answer to what ailed him. He was going to install a Ford V8 to replace the rather sedate and frugal 4 cylinder that was standard equipment for Ford milk trucks. Money was no object and to hell with the environment - never mind the safety issues - for himself as well as pedestrians and other road users. It was going to happen.

Problem. The milk round is a six-day-a-week-job. How to remove a four cylinder Ford truck engine and replace it with the V8 all in one day? Not easy. Probably not even possible. Even the Old man could see that. Therefore, in his wisdom he decided to borrow another milk truck to do the round and work on the V8 conversion in the evenings. Should take a day or two, he thought.

I was instantly promoted to assistant motor mechanic and all-round dogsbody. My Mum made coffee.

To make things worse, I had recently taken a new job: washing dishes in an Italian restaurant. During the day I was attending classes at University. The plan was - OM does milk round for the day, comes home, gets to work on truck. I go to school, wash a mountain of dishes then come home and help him with the V8 conversion.

Sounds simple.

I confess I was not entirely convinced, but there was no stopping him. Alert readers may have noticed that there was no time for eating or sleeping built into his plan.

Day One

OM delivered milk. I went to school. OM came home and started removing old 4-cylinder Ford truck engine. I washed a mountain of dishes caked with pasta sauce. (I'll come to the pans later). I got home about 11:00 expecting to find the old engine laying in the driveway. It wasn't.

It sounds so easy to say "remove Ford engine". It's nowhere near that easy to do. Worked all night. OM's plan was to cut corners, as usual, by unbolting the engine from the gearbox and just removing the engine, leaving the gearbox in situ.

When we did, the gearbox fell down and hit the ground with a resounding thump. Fortunately, I was not underneath it at the time. Unfortunately, neither was the OM.

Still, we almost got the engine out. End of day one.

Day Two

OM delivered milk. I went to school. OM came home and carried on removing old 4-cylinder Ford truck engine. I washed a mountain of dishes caked with pasta sauce. About mid-night we got the engine out. Success. Now, we simply had to drop the V8 in, bolt it to the gearbox (remember it was laying on the driveway at this time) and do the peripherals, like fuel and electrical systems which may, or may not be compatible. Eventually managed to shoe-horn the V8 into the space allotted for a Ford 4 cylinder. End of day two. Not been to sleep yet.

Day Three

OM delivered milk. I went to school. OM came home and carried on installing Ford V8. I washed a mountain of dishes caked with pasta sauce. When I got home, the OM had just about managed to get the V8 in place and bolted to the engine mounts. Now, for the gearbox. Yes, that's the one laying on the driveway under the truck. Well, at least it was out of the rain. OM had rigged an ingenious system of hydraulic jacks and bricks to support the gearbox as we tried to get it up into position. It was slow going, but eventually we got it quite close. Now all we had to do was align the splines of the drive shaft with the clutch (through which it must pass) and bring the two essential parts of the drive train - the engine and gearbox - together. That took two days!

Day Four

OM delivered milk. I went to school. OM came home and carried on installing Ford V8. I washed a mountain of dishes caked with pasta sauce. No matter how hard we tried we could not get the splines to pass through the clutch and into the backplate where they belonged. We tugged. We pulled. We shoved. No go.

Oh yes, did I mention? The only functional way to achieve this precision manoeuvre was the OM laying on his back under the truck lifting and twisting the engine (any idea what a Ford truck engine weighs – even when most of the weight is being taken by the jacks?) whilst I attempted to do the same from inside by holding the gear lever and using it as a tool to move the gearbox. Probably not in the Ford workshop manual. Eventually we got it just sufficiently on to get one of the bell-housing bolts to start in its thread, then another one, then a third, By carefully tightening them one by one, eventually we got the shaft to pop into place. Hurrah! End of day four.

Day Five

OM delivered milk. I went to school. OM came home and carried on installing Ford V8. I washed a mountain of dishes caked with pasta sauce. Did I mention no sleep in four full days? Actually I was feeling quite good. In a bit of a daze, a bit of a haze but strangely not really tired. And on the fifth day we got the engine and the gearbox in. It was in the early hours, but it was in. I freely confess I'd had it by then. I quit. OM carried on until the dawn's early light when I saw him standing by the side of the truck with a few bits of carburettor linkage in his hand. I'll never forget this scene. OM with “extra bits” in his hand. OM looks at the linkage and says, soto voce, “Now, if I put this SOB there and this SOB over there . . .” Eventually he gave up, threw the “extra” bits away and started it up. It ran. I'd like to say I was surprised but by then I just didn't care.

OM was ecstatic. As it was time to start the milk round, off he went. I went to bed and didn't surface for about 18 hours.

Addendum

After some time spent barrelling around at breakneck speed and frightening the life out of anyone so timorous as to even attempt to overtake him, the OM's Ford V8 Milk truck blew up, scattering bits of metal and oil all over the tarmac.

Poetic justice I'd say.

p.s. I promised to get to the pots and pans in an Italian restaurant. I left a perfectly good job at a fast food restaurant (not McDonald's) because my sister said she could get me the dish washing job in the Italian restaurant she waitresed in. It paid another 15 cents an hour. She didn't tell me that I was the only dishwasher. So, all the dishes from lunch-time were neatly stacked for me when I got there about 4 in the afternoon. When I waded through them, I was just about ready to start on the evening dishes which had been neatly piling up. Finally I could get to the pots and pans about 9 at night By comparison, pulling back sink at KP in the Army was easy. Italian sauces stick to the bottom of pans like Teflon. And this was before Teflon had been invented! Worst job I ever had, but, at least I was able to claim membership in the Ancient Order of Pearl Divers – the unofficial trade organisation of all dishwashers.

Blogged with Flock

NCFC Shenanigans

Delia's True Colours

Fantastic shenanigans at Norwich City! Fans are finally beginning to see that the club is not being run as a kind of “Let's be having you” frolic, but rather as a money-making concern.

Meanwhile, the club still thinks that investing in players that might actually improve the team is an anathema. Brainlessly the EDP runs story after story about this player or that player who may or may not be available or may or may not sign for NCFC. Eventually they manage to get one of the minor, bit-part players from a failing Championship club and proclaim that things are looking up!

It really would make a grown man cry.

What's new is that the fans are beginning to get smart to Delia's real agenda. They are wondering how a club which cannot afford to sign any players can be worth 64 million pounds!

That's a good question.

Fans are getting tired of the Delia line as promulgated by that arch-bean counter Neil Doncaster. Either the club is being run as a local charity and St Delia is it's saviour – providing money like manna from heaven or it is really a business and able to afford to invest in assets, I.e. players. That's what this is all about.

Football is a business. So, along comes a businessman who wants to invest in the club. It's not as simple as “here's a load of money” - there are strings attached. This is not unusual, for businessmen don't often lob millions of quid around without some say in what it's going to be used for.

What's Delia's response? Nothing. Pretend it doesn't exist and maybe it will go away.

Don't look now but St Delia's halo is slipping.

In the latest development it appears that maybe Delia will meet with the potential investor after all. Why? It's not hard to figure. The hostile press and fans. Supporters are drooling at the prospect of real money to buy real players. Delia will have to deal with this.

My prediction? Delia will manage to side-step the issues and repulse any take-over bid. The question is why? The answer is money. If you doubt it just remember the furore that ensued when the list of profitable football clubs was recently published and NCFC was on it. Doncaster nearly died! Next day the press was full of his protestations of outrage that anyone should assert that Norwich City actually made money. Spin – spin – spin – his head must go round like a top by now.

In a sense he is right. As long as the morons who are now questioning Delia credentials to run the club keep trooping through the Carrow Road turnstiles not much is going to change.

That's a fact.

Blogged with Flock

China

Strangely Out of Touch

Somewhere along the way I got lost.

Or, the world has gone one way and I went the other – rather like the road less travelled.

The media is now and has been for some time deluging us with images and statistics about China – chiefly as a focus on issues of global warming and the worsening economic situation. We are told that the Chinese are building coal-fired power stations faster than we build houses and the entire western economic prosperity has been built on the back of cheap good imported from China.

When did the Chinese stop being coolies?

What I know about China I learned from books and other media. The Good Earth - Pearl Buck – describes vividly the life of the Chinese peasant in the 1930's and neatly encapsulates my early understanding of Chinese culture. They are a bunch of fairly cultured peasants.

Films like 30 Seconds Over Tokyo – 1944 encapsulates the Chinese integration into the Second World War. Suddenly they became “good guys”- helping the downed American pilots to evade capture by the dastardly Japs. Still, the scenes in China are very “Good Earth-ish” - full of peasants and steeped in the poverty of the people.

Moving on to The Bridges at Toko Ri (1954) we find the Chinese had also moved on into bogeyman country. Now they are the “Yellow Peril” and the faceless Communist ideologues being battled by the brave men of the US Navy. Still, the emphasis is on the backwardness of the Chinese and their powerlessness in the face of superior western technology – in the form of F86's.

Even In MASH the Chinese are seen as an afterthought and incidental to the real concerns of the stories. They are still illiterate peasants governed by Chairman Mao's Little Red Book.

In the Vietnam Era China was viewed with hostility and suspicion. It was assumed that they were supplying and encouraging other slant-eyed peasants, the Vietnamese, to enable them to attack the US on the periphery. Importantly, they are still viewed as peasants – if only by proxy.

Then I must have missed something. After Tiananman Square when the Chinese Old Guard jealously defended their right to rule the masses and the peaceful hand over of Hong Kong, China changed and nobody told me.

Everywhere you look China is rather like us. Chinese cities which were described as cess-pits in The Good Earth are now progressive, cosmopolitan and modern. The hordes of mindless, moronic, automatons aimlessly charging the massed machine guns in Korea are now driving cars on modern roads with Western infrastructure evident in every photogenic shot. Mao is now a quaint old guy whose Long March is viewed as a kind of cultural pilgrimage instead of a Communist ideologue and the architect of human rights abuses that make Sadly Insane look like a saint.

I must be getting old.

Blogged with Flock

Sea Change

American elections

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange. - Shakespeare

Shakespeare usually said it best – and said if first. Barack Obama's nomination as the Democratic candidate for President fits Ol Will's description of a sea-change exactly.

The papers are full of the historic nature of his victory and it's hard to improve on their analysis. How he galvanised a legion of new supporters to the Democratic party and overcame the Clinton's political muscle will be etched deeply in the “Practical Guide to Becoming President”.

The sea change is something different. It is something most Americans of my generation never thought to see -a black candidate for President. We are the generation that saw Mississippi burning, saw Martin Luther Kind gunned down, saw black men destroying Watts, saw racial prejudice as an enduring legacy and an immutable constant.

We marvelled at the talent that brought Jackie Robinson to the Dodgers; we applauded (sometimes secretly) the explosion of talent that is Motown music, we all knew a “token” black, but we didn't want to live with them or invite them to our bbq.

In 1951 I stated school in Chicago. Blacks were beginning to move into the neighbourhood and whites didn't like it. Therefore, we all went to the local Catholic school. All white kids that is – all the blacks went to the local public school. Everyone knew this and accepted it. We had more Jewish white kids at St Ambrose than any other demographic group. The nuns would go mad on Yom Kippur – none of the Jew came to school.

I was into the eighth grade before a black was in my school. At High School we had a grand total of eight black kids out of three thousand students. Everyone was their friend. No-one invited them to their parties. The idea of inter-racial dating was so shocking that it was impossible to contemplate.

Then cam e Viet Nam. I trained with 200 men – 75% black. Blacks accounted for casualties about in the same proportion as their percentage of the population – 12.5 %. White casualties were significantly lower. Fact replaces legend. The white man's war was fought by blacks, and they knew it.

So, is it any wonder that the era of Black Power followed? Fed up with the war; fed up with inequality; fed up with Mississippi; black people looked to the government to change things and they got Lyndon Johnson.

Poor old LBJ gets a bad press and he deserves it. The war was his, but the Civil Rights Bill was also his. LBJ was obsessed with carrying on Kennedy's legislative program and to his credit he did. So, a hundred years after the Constitution guaranteed fundamental rights to those who had been in “ a previous condition of servitude”, LBJ made sure that the words were matched with action to eliminate the cosy political relationships in the South (and in the North as well) which ensured that blacks were effectively excluded from the political process.

LBJ is directly responsible for Barack. Or, Barack is directly indebted to LBJ. Either way old LBJ should get some of the credit.

It took thirty years, but it happened. Black men and women are seen in new roles. In the media, in sports, in politics, blacks are empowered by the successes and trials of a generation and can now even hope for a black man to be President.

Truly a sea-change.

Miracles do happen.

Blogged with Flock

New Zealand Tests

Unconvincing.

I'm off to Nottingham next week to see the Third Test against New Zealand – well not the whole thing, but the second day (Friday) weather permitting.

Good time to assess where the England team are at this present time.

Opinions are varied. You can, of course, only beat the opposition that is in front of you. In that respect, England's victory in the Second Test was welcome – if overdue. Wisdom has it that NZ are not really very good. Wisdom is probably correct. They have lost a world-class batsman, Stephen Fleming, and a world-class bowler, Shane Bond. Fleming has retired – far too soon – and Bond is making big bucks in the IPL. What's left, meanwhile, is fairly mediocre.

What is even more telling is the way England won at Old Trafford. It was hardly convincing. In the first innings when you should get the majority of your runs, they didn't. The bowlers rescued the batsmen with an inspired performance by Monty to dismiss NZ for next to nothing in the second innings. Before then, NZ were really in the driving seat.

Not really much to crow about!

Commentators keep banking on about the England batting, and they are right. I've been saying for as long as anyone will listen that Bell and Collingwood are not really Test batsmen. I also say that Pietersen is greatly over-rated. For my money he is no better than a Test number six.

I like the Sky commentators line. Batsmen get endless opportunities and faith in continuity from the selectors: bowlers get the chop. Fact is the bowlers are carrying this team at the moment. Some continuity is good, but too much is just stubborn and pig-headed.

One commentator suggested that the England First Innings failure was down to the batsmen being nervous and playing for their places. This is nonsense. Batsmen should always be nervous and playing for their places. What the selectors have been doing is the opposite: they have given endless chances to some technically un-gifted players!

There is a school of thought that England have too many players to choose from. New Zealand, on the other hand, have a small pool and make the best of what they have. This is also nonsense. Having a large pool of players should ensure that the most talented rise to the top and get picked. Then it's a results game.

You get results or you get dropped. Having a number of ready-made replacements on hand should concentrate the batsmen's minds. Competition is good, but it only works if it is put into practice. Endlessly talking about changing the team is no good unless occasionally you actually change it!

It's time to change some batsmen for some others. Bell and Collingwood should go and go now. With the series as much as won – it's time to see what others can do before the South Africans get here.

Blogged with Flock

All My Best Ideas

The Mistake-Maker - Me

I distinctly remember reading a book review in the Sunday Times on 18 May and thinking: someone has stolen all my best ideas again!

I remember thinking: I must remember to put this to one side so I can blog about it later.

I remember forgetting to do so and looking for the magazine this morning. I couldn't find it; for in a show of mesmeric competence she had thrown it away. Sometimes I can find the last three for four issues of the Sunday Times sitting patiently in my living room – just waiting for me to explore them. This time she has thrown all away except for last week's. And, the dustmen took the recycle bin on Tuesday.

Never mind. I bet I can find the relevant review on-line. Google here I come.

I don't remember the name of the book or the name of the author, so it's no good searching for them. That would be too easy. If I did know the name of either, I bet I could find a review in a flash. I don't.

Next choice: try to search the Sunday Times web site for the review. I know the date – it was a week ago Sunday – i.e. 18 May 08. here's where technology should be a real boon and a real buddy.

Fat chance.

The Sunday Times has extensive search facilities on their web site. What they don't have is back issues. It's easy to find the book reviews from 25 May (of which I have the relevant magazine in my hand!) but for the previous week it appears to be impossible.

Now, when Google have the disk and processor capacity to trawl the net and index the entire thing and then store it to make it accessible with just a few key words; why should the Sunday Times not do the same?

Why can't you simply type into Google: “Sunday Times book review 18 May 08” and get a list of the books reviewed that day. Try it. All you get are links to the Dalai Lama and a Verdi opera.

By now, dear reader, you are probably wondering where this is going?

Nowhere.

Despite my previous week's exasperation at the pinching of my best ideas I can not remember enough of the important points of the mystery book to sensibly comment on it.

I permit you a reasonable snigger at my expense.

Blogged with Flock

Been There - Done That - Seen it

Education?

Two Sunday Times articles, seemingly unrelated, caught my eye.

Ray Lewis is “Pied Piper to the wild boys”- is, apparently one of the Tories favourite black activists. His programme of “tough love' is a strategy for dealing with severely disruptive teenage boys. He is Boris Johnson's favourite community leader – though he leans towards the Labour Party when voting.

Ray's programme is really fairly simple. He takes some very naughty boys and instills some discipline into their lives. At his Eastside Young Leaders' Academy he works “minor miracles” He makes the boys march “African style – our boys have rhythm” and salute and get extra help in Maths and English. He insists they say “please and thank you” and hold open doors for grown-ups. He probably makes them help old ladies across the road and give up seats on buses.

These are all good things. They are not new. Hitler could teach discipline to kids.

Ray keeps kids off the streets by occupying them from 4 till nine – when their parents get home. He is doing good and valuable work.

He thinks the army of “ologists” in schools and social services are dominating our schools with dyslexia and ADHD – but (as he says) do they have any solutions for these problems? No, they don't.

Ray believes that it's parents and activists like him who are likely to improve the prospects for his boys. He's probably right.

So, when on TV last evening I saw a report that mothers are leaving babies only a few months old to go back to work so they don't lose their home to mortgage repossession, it seems likely that Ray's programme will need to be expanded. When the Dewsbury Chavs set the standards of behaviour for the civilised world, Ray is going to be in business for a long time!

Turn the page and we have TV's QI Quiz show. Apparently people who ought to know better are advocating a “child-centred” approach to learning. Learning by discovery. Learning by play. Have we heard this before? Oh, yes.

Does it work? Oh no.

Are these two articles related? Oh, yes.

First: young people of school age need parents. Two parents. One at home. If they don't have them, or their parents are so gormless and feckless that they can't or won't care for their children – the state will have to do it.

That's the job of schools.

I bet you thought that the job of schools was to educate our children. Only peripherally. It is a good thing if children learn some things whilst they are there – but the primary purpose of schools is to occupy children all day so their parents can go out to work. Once you realise that you know why Ray has so many children to save and why our schools are often a mess.

The great men who barely went to school – Einstein, Churchill, J.S. Mill, Bertrand Russell, Galileo, Da Vinci – the list is long – didn't need after-school care!

The dorks who think they can make school compete with Playstations are deluded. Point one of their manifesto is just stupid. Play not work – they say. If you wish to produce a crop of people who are good at playing, then this is a viable programme. if you wish to produce good, productive members of the community – it's just crap.

The purpose of school is to babysit children for 10-15 years. Along the way if they learn to read and write and do arithmetic – that's a bonus. Some will want to be rocket scientists. You won't learn aeronautical engineering by building model aeroplanes. You might awaken an interest in flight – but you could to that with comic books.

Unless we are prepared as a society to have half the work force at home (chiefly mothers) for five or six years looking after their offspring, we are not going to solve the problem of disillusioned teenagers.

Full stop.

Blogged with Flock

Chiefs Draft Dodgers

A new dawn?

The 2008 NFL Draft is history and the Chiefs hope that they have filled a lot of holes on their roster and dodged the bullet of underachievement.

Certainly in the first round most NFL pundits think the Chiefs were either very lucky or very clever by picking two outstanding young linemen who should make an immediate impact on the team: Defensive Tackle Glenn Dorsey and OT/G Branden Albert. By immediately going a long way to filling the gap left by the departure of Jared Allen the Chiefs answered their critics big-time. There are no guarantees in the NFL but with two top draft picks ready to bolster two of the real problem areas of last season - things look good. Now the front office must make sure these players are signed, sealed and delivered before training camp starts!

The Giants Super Bowl win has firmly focussed coaches minds on defence so it was no surprise when the Chiefs took Brandon Flowers, CB, in the second round. The Chiefs need someone who can step right in and they obviously think he's the man to do it. If so, fantastic, if not they covered themselves by taking another CB in round five, Branden Carr from Grand Valley State. I readily confess to not knowing where Grand Valley State is or what kind of football program they have. Obviously, the Chiefs think they do! If the Chiefs can get another starting CB out of Round Five, they will be beyond ecstatic!

The third round was interesting. Three picks produced a running back, a tight end and a safety. If all three make the final roster, even as special teams and backup players, this suddenly becomes a fantastic year.

With their 4^th round pick the Chiefs took Missouri wide receiver Will Franklin. Whether this was just a sop to the local fans and sports writers only time will tell. If you're not a complete cynic you have to think a Fourth Round wide receiver has a chance to make the team and be more than just a special teams player. Remember, Jared Allen was a fourth round pick!

The scouts and coaches really earn their money when you get to rounds six and seven. Chiefs had two picks in each round. In round six they took another lineman, Tackle Barry Richardson and a WR and Kick Returner, Kevin Robinson. You do get NFL players from rounds six an seven – but if you do it regularly, it's a real bonus. If you are one of the scouts who recommended these guys, you've got your fingers crossed!

Finally, in round seven the Chiefs took a DE (more cover for Allen?) Brian Johnston from Gardner-Webb – and who ever heard of Gardner-Webb? A quick search finds that they have provided Jim Maxwell, linebacker of the Bengals and Gabe Wilkins a former GB Packers defensive end, so they are not entirely without pedigree! With their final pick they chose Michael Merritt a tight end from Central Florida.

The bottom line is the draft is the Chiefs chosen route to the promised land. This looks like a good start, but all the draftees are untried at the NFL level. If half of them make the team that's six good young players. If among those six are the replacements in the real problem areas, then we are on the way. If two of the top picks sink without a trace, things look very bleak indeed.

The NFL draft is unique in that it supplies a conveyor belt of exceptional athletes for the professional game, and it (mostly) ensures that the talent is shared out among the 32 pro teams. Regardless of what the fans think it's up to the coaches and the front office to get it right. They have made the call and will have to live with it. Another 4 and 12 season and heads will roll. Young QB not good enough – fans will want to know why they didn't draft one?

Armchair Quarterbacks – get ready to rumble!

Blogged with Flock

Chavs and Chavistas

Dewsbury? Screwsbury more like it!

Someday I’ve got to get to Dewsbury, West Yorkshire. Some day, but hopefully not too soon.

Dewsbury must be the Chav City, Arizona! Judging by the shenanigans surrounding the “disappearance” of Shannon Matthews, Dewsbury is inhabited by more completely dysfunctional Chavs and Chavettes than anywhere else on the planet.

The Telegraph has the best article to try and explain this intricate and pathetic situation:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2008/04/08/nshannon108.xml

I find it very difficult to judge or even comment on this situation, and I don’t usually find myself at a loss for words!

Here are the highlights of the Telegraph article:

The Daily Telegraph understands that Miss Matthews, who has seven children to five fathers, was arrested on Sunday as she sat in a police car with Det Con Christine Freeman.

Miss Matthews allegedly admitted that she had wanted to leave her boyfriend, Craig Meehan, 22, and that his uncle, Michael Donovan, 39, had offered her a place to stay. Miss Matthews is alleged to have said she intended to leave home but at the last minute "lost her bottle". However, sources said she denied having an affair with Mr Donovan and had not asked him to take Shannon.

Mr Donovan, who slit his wrists while on remand at Leeds Prison on Sunday, is awaiting trial charged with kidnap and false imprisonment.

Mr Meehan is in custody charged with 11 counts of possessing child pornography and will appear before Dewsbury magistrates on Friday.

Now, call me old fashioned, but I’m not convinced that dysfunctional adequately covers the Dewsbury Chavs. Whilst trying desperately to not sound completely like Victor Meldrew, one is tempted to shout, “You cannot be serious!” What chance has society got if the Dewsbury Chavs take over?

Not much.

And, they might.

They might just “out-breed” the rest of us. After all, they seem to have not a lot else to do!

A real case: in my immediate family we have produced four boys. All of them are now just into their thirties. One is married. One has a “partner”. Two have no on-going relationships. None has children.

And the Dewsbury Chavs? Mrs Matthews (and this is no more than an honorary title) has, at last count, seven children by five different fathers. Apparently, she is now fed up with her present “partner” – a gormless looking lad who is charged with child pornography offences.

Ok – we can see the problem – what’s the solution?

I was carelessly musing on this question just the other evening and (jocularly) let slip the contention that perhaps Hitler had the right idea. Certainly there would have been no Chavs or Chavettes in Nuremburg. He would have gassed them.

Consequently, Hitler gave fascists a bad name. And, more importantly, his legacy is to make us all slightly queasy at any idea that bears only the remotest similarity to his obscene attempts to rid Germany of undesirables.

Could it be that in this new century we could dust off some of the ideas and have a sensible discussion?

The European Convention on Human Rights guarantees Ms Matthews the right to a family life. So it should.

Does it also guarantee her the right to reproduce as much and as often with whomever she chooses – whilst the State picks up the tab?

I don’t think it should. I think there should be limits. We can discuss where the limits should be – but, unless we accept that there should be some kind of limit we are open to the charge of fascism. Can we afford to ignore this? No. What chance have we if the fittest in our society choose selfishly to “look after number one” while the Dewsbury Chavs do belly-bouncing - secure in the knowledge that the state (you and I) will pick up the tab?

Now we find that Chief Chavette Matthews has been arrested and charged.

My case is nearly rested. These morons have a right to life – but not an indiscriminate right to breed like rabbits (or perhaps vermin might be more apropos)!

Blogged with Flock

Nobt Waving - but Sinking

Harmison sinks his way to the back of the queue!

The travelling chorus of cricket troubadours has arrived triumphantly from New Zealand. After losing the first test, they managed to comprehensively demolish a very mediocre Kiwi side and restore some much-needed confidence. Whether or not this is a false dawn is more problematical.

Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the series concerned the batsmen who found runs difficult to come by.

Commentators Bob Willis and Michael Atherton were banging on throughout the whole series about how bowlers seem to get the chop after a few poor performances, whereas the batsmen just keep going on and on – seeking to find their form – without any activity from the selectors. At various times, the commentators were almost apoplectic in their rage at the selectors.

Bob and Michael were probably being a bit over-simplistic. Much was made about the lack of centuries. Statistics “prove” a poor runs per over rate from England batsmen since the Ashes series. As a unit, the batsmen have definitely under-performed.

Problem is: there are no batsmen charging to the front of the selection queue, nor will there be until the English season gets under way. It is more than slightly unrealistic for Willis and Atherton to call for changes when there are no batsmen in the tour party surging for selection. They know this. Perhaps they were just filling in the time for the benefit of Sky TV?

Here are the facts – as I see them.

Michael Vaughan is out of touch, but he’s the captain and will not be replaced because of a dip. He will be given lots of opportunity to play himself into form this summer before anyone seriously challenges his place in the side.

His opening partner, Alistair Cook, has an exceptional record for a young test opener. Those who question his attacking skills are just being silly. Even though the commentators bemoan the lack of Test centuries, he is one batsman who is likely to grind out a big score in difficult circumstances.

Andrew Strauss is not a number three. If he’s not opening the innings it’s difficult to find a spot for him if Vaughan and Cook hold any sort of form. What England need is a solid batsman at three for the times when an opening partnership doesn’t come off, but one who can attack when the situation presents itself. Strauss is probably not the man for this job. Petersen should bat at three. (see below)

Ian Bell is a lucky batsman. That’s not a bad thing to be, but in his case his luck will probably run out some day soon. Every time he hits a run of low scores and is just about to be axed – he finds a big one. One thing is for sure – he’s not a test number 4.

Kevin Petersen is over-rated. Bowlers have worked out his limited game and he is struggling. He seems indispensable because he is capable of the Holy Grail – a big score and in quick time. Unfortunately, his average is plummeting as the going gets more difficult. He had one good score on tour against a very weak attack. He ought to stop reading his press clippings before he starts believing explicitly in them.

Paul Collingwood is perhaps the one batsman who can take some credit from the series. He consistently got runs and at a reasonable pace. He even did a bit of bowling. He seems at least to understand his role in the side and plays to his strengths. He’s probably the best we’ve got right now to bat at 5 or 6.

Tim Ambrose looks a promising bat and a reasonable keeper. Therefore, he plays. Mind you, this time last year we also had a promising bat and a reasonable keeper. We seem to have a lot of promising bats with reasonable keeping skills. What we don’t have is an Alec Stewart. It’s unlikely we’re going to find one.

Stuart Broad should now be a “must play” player. He can bowl and will get better. He can bat. He may be a genuine all-rounder. When Andrew Flintoff returns, England could have two class all-rounders in the side and bat right down to number 8.

Ryan Sidebottom is having the best time of what will be a short career – but only because he is the wrong side of thirty. In England this summer he should take a packet of wickets and have the NZ openers having nightmares.

After years of injury worries, Jimmy Anderson looks set to cement his place. Waiting in the wings should he stumble are Hoggard and Harmison. Both should be smarting from being discarded in NZ. The press had a field day when it was revealed how much they were getting paid to under perform. I expect to see Hoggard fighting tooth and nail to get back. Harmison should be discarded – he simply brings too much baggage and his salary should go to a younger bowler.

Monty Panesar is a bowler and a number 11. He cannot do anything else. He must play every test match regardless of the perceived conditions. He must not be allowed to bat or field if possible. How about a strategic spell of intestinal diseases when England are in the field – recovering when he needs to bowl?

Much has been said about beating a mediocre NZ team but I'm more positive. If Flintoff is 100% he can work his way back into the side without much pressure. The Ashes can be won in 09.

Blogged with Flock

Thanks, Phil

Thanks for nothing!

Phil Banyard of the EDP has taken it upon himself to create a controversy in local cricket. He hasn't done it all by himself – but, it appears, he is the prime mover. With help from Norfolk's own version of Victor Meldrew, John Murrell, he seeks to upset everyone he can.

We've had three weeks of stories about plans to expand the Norfolk Alliance at the expense of the feeder leagues. It's obvious, various people are not happy.

The title of “Chief Whinger” surely goes to John Murrell of Sprowston C.C. It's a shame to personalise what should be a serious debate about cricket, but when John is involved – it's difficult no too!

John exhibits all the characteristics of a real “Nimby-Jobsworth”. He thinks he's on a mission and the rest of the world is out to get him. We see this every year at the Annual General Meeting of the Norfolk Cricket League. First, John puts forward umpteen amendments – the purpose of which is to make the Norfolk League more like the Alliance – we spend a long time reading them and trying to make sense of his poorly constructed proposals, and then they are all rejected by an overwhelming majority.

Like all good Jobsworth's this does not really deter John.

So, this year he has run to the Alliance Committee and persuaded them to back an expansion of their league. In other words, what he can not get by democratic means he seeks to impose. There's a word for this, and I think it's fascist.

What is it exactly he wants? Under the guise of raising standards he wants to resurrect the Alliance closed shop that the ECB did away with when the pyramid structure was set up some years ago. The rest is just window dressing.

To do so, he has resurrected a document “Norfolk Cricket Board – Feeder Leagues Proposed Standards for 2005”. There is much to be commended in this document. Unfortunately, John has chosen to focus on what I describe as the “toilet and twaddle” parts of the document. Whereas the focus should be on item one: good playing surface”, John has ranted on about showers and toilets and separate changing rooms.

I resist the temptation to ascribe motive to his concerns.

Let's be clear, the aims expressed in this document are good. But, in trying to beat his fellow cricketers to death with the minutiae, John just makes himself look foolish.

It's a shame that Phil Banyard has chosen to give him a mouthpiece.

Blogged with Flock

The Americanisation of England

Small World - isn't it!

A bumper issue of the Sunday Times this week provides a thematically interesting perspective on some current issues.

First, on page one is the story, “Children's oath to Queen”. Lord Goldsmith thinks that this kind of procedure might strengthen the understanding of children as to what it means to be British. The article goes on to equate this proposed oath to the Pledge of Allegiance, which is a very common way of starting the day in American schools.

I can recite it by heart: I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, under God with liberty and justice for all.

Actually, I, apparently, got it a bit wrong. Here's the words Wikipedia thinks are correct:

"I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Perhaps the “under God and indivisible” have switched places in modern times. I believe the indivisible was traditionally first because of the Civil War – but I could be wrong. Either way, since I was last in school over 40 years ago - I didn't do too bad in the “anti-Alzheimers” stakes!

The point is that the Pledge of Allegiance is relevant to Americans every day. It hearkens back to the time when all Americans were resisting European ideas of government. It reminds citizens in a moving kind of way that their birthright and heritage are still relevant today.

I'm not sure this “Americanism” would transfer very well to the U.K. Because the U.K. pledge would be to the Monarch, it is too personal. People who didn't like the Queen or any future Monarch would object.

My view: it's another government gimmick.

Page 4 informs us that the U.K. armed forces are to get Purple Hearts for wounds received in battle. The government would like to see the public's support of the Armed Services be affirmed and be made more visible. Reacting, perhaps, to news that personnel at RAF Wittering are told not to wear their uniforms in Peterborough, the government's response it to call for more public award ceremonies to present medals to soldiers. America is held up as a model of how a nation should honour those who serve in the Forces.

If a week is a long time in politics, then a generation is a life time in honouring soldiers. The government should remember how the American public's condemnation of the Vietnam war and the soldiers who fought in it nearly tore the country apart and, it can be convincingly be argued, gave us Nixon's paranoia and Watergate.

Looks like the government floating an idea in response to what it perceives as a real public concern. Not working for me.

Lastly, we have the article, “Earth's secrets kept in lunar ark”. It's Arthur C. Clarke and 2001 all over. This time it's the European Parliament who are trying to outdo the Americans. Let's bury an obelisk on the Moon and fill it with Earth's secrets. All we have to do is persuade NASA to play ball and we can get the whole thing under way soon.

What happens when the “future apes” eventually evolve to take our place – in 8 to 10 million years or so, and whose job it will be to repopulate the planet after we destroy it discover the thing buried on the Moon? I would love to be around to see that one!

Because we will have archived all the old films we won't need a HAL 9000 computer to work out the answer!

Blogged with Flock