Ephemeral Isle
Archives
Wednesday
1 December 2004
Great Moments in Romance
Hector was certain that if he did not ensnare Eloise in the web of his charm his sartorial elegance would do the job.
Thursday
2 December 2004
Neville Chamberlain Award
The EU Three celebrate their brilliant nuclear deal with Iran
Friday
3 December 2004
The Alexander Aftermath
In a rare moment of clarity, Oliver Stone wonders where he went wrong.
Monday
6 December 2004
Where Are the Madmen of Yesteryear?
The BBC has an article about the lack of chemistry students, but the most informative part is reader’s comment section where former chemists explained why they left the field. If you look closely you won’t find one that includes the remark, “Fools! I’ll destroy them all!” If Britain cannot produce suitably disgruntled mad scientists, what hope can there be for the nation?
Master/Slave
The California challenge of the technical term “master/slave” to describe primary and secondary hard disk drives has been named the worst example of political correctness of the year—and in an atmosphere where Reuters refuses to use the world “terrorist” to describe terrorists, that’s saying something.
At least we aren’t referring to skeletons as “meat-challenged persons,” but give them time, give them time.
Ludicrous
When I thought that Zimbabwe couldn’t get any more insane comes this report that the Zimbabwe Tourism Board is offering holidays where overweight Western tourists can come to the Sub-Saharan Gulag and work off the pounds as unpaid, underfed farm labourers.
Yes, be treated like a political prisoner without all that fuss of being arrested and hauled before a show trial!
A Lenin Christmas
The neighbourhood of Fremont in Seattle is celebrating Christmas… Sorry, the “midwinter holidays” by festooning their infamous statue of Lenin with Christmas (sorry, there I go using obscenities again) lights.
Yes, nothing speaks to the spirit of the birth of Christ (Sorry, sorry) like making a centrepiece of one of the worst bloodstained tyrants of the 20th century.
Space Spam
There is a new proposal for communicating with aliens from beyond by beaming the Internet verbatim into outer space. The author admits that all that porn might be a problem, but he shrugs it off as just part of the story of man. What he doesn’t shrug off, or consider, is the implications for us when the Vorlons end up with their computers infested with our Trojan viruses and their e-mails become overloaded with our spam.
Daleks and the threat of the handicap ramp
On a
related topic, the Ministry of Defence has published a white paper wherein
they point in that though handicap ramps on buildings and street corners
have been a tremendous boon to the disabled, it has nevertheless opened the
nation to deadly peril in the event of a Dalek invasion.
Be prepared!
Birds of Peace… in our time
The Thai people, in a remarkably disingenuous move, have opened a new front against Islamofascists by deploying one hundred million origami “peace” birds over Thailand’s Islamic provinces. Islamic terrorist leaders were unavailable for comment, as they were too busy doubling up with laughter.
Milan Awash with Scala Fever as Opera Reopens
Tuesday
7 December 2004
A New Weapon in the War on Terror
In a cunning move, the Pentagon has fielded a new weapon in the War or Terror. New U S Army radios operate on the same frequency as garage door openers and are able to jam them at a considerable distance. Hah! What good is a car bomb if the terrorists can’t even get to the street?
What the Media Doesn’t Like to Talk About
Speaking of bombings, take a look at the good news coming out of Iraq. Schedule a fair bit of time, because there’s a heck of a lot of it.
Elementary, My Dear Watson
Here’s an update on the case of Richard Lancelyn Green, the Sherlock Holmes expert who was on the trail of the stolen Conan Doyle archives and ended up garrotted in his flat.
Could Prof. Moriarty be involved?
Wednesday
8 December 2004
Marital Miscommunication
Sidney was beginning to suspect that this what not what Jane meant about putting the spark back into their marriage.
Thursday
9 December 2004
Okay... Sandwiches, then?
A truffle recently purchased by a syndicate for £28,000 has gone off in the fridge. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Friday
10 December 2004
Emma: Toddler Domestic Goddess
My daughter is a domestic goddess— which is saying something at the age of 2 ½. We were already aware that she was definitely headed down the girly girl path; what with her love of pink, fascination with baby dolls, and an insistence on wearing dresses on every possible occasion, but it wasn’t until we bought her a set of plastic dishes and cutlery for her table that we realised that we had a little Martha Stewart on our hands; minus the felonies, of course.
I was used to her pulling the dishes out of their cupboard, stacking them up and tossing them about. What I was not expecting was the day when she laid the dishes and cutlery out on her little table in proper settings in front of her larger stuffed animals and then slipped a large plastic plate underneath a smaller one. Good Lord, I thought, she not only understands place settings, she has grasped the subtler concept of the charger.
To find out whether this was a fluke or not, we bought her a set of toy pans. Frankly, I didn’t think she’d have the slightest idea about what they were for, since we’re so busy that meals tend to be snatched affairs in our house and when we do have time for proper cooking I put out a formal notice banning everyone within a twelve mile radius from entering my kitchen. And yet, by some instinct, there Emma was boiling and frying up a storm at her table and presenting her pretend fare to Mama and Daddy with remarkable pride.
Then Emma had an early Christmas when a package from Grandma arrived a couple of days ago and she not only had an electric mixer and coffee maker to play with, but a tea set, more pans, and assorted plastic utensils. She fell on these with utter delight and was soon preparing some obscure dish that required power mixing and then frying up with a potato masher.
The truly frightening point came when she discovered the party dress that Grandma had sent. Emma will never wear trousers when a skirt is going spare and she insisted on donning the dress immediately. I didn’t think much of it, as it’s the sort of thing she does, but a half an hour later I was typing away on the laptop when up toddles my daughter in her dress, sets down a tiny cup and saucer by my hand, offers the pot, and asks “more tea?”
Two and a half and she’s already having tea parties. By the end of the evening Mama, Daddy, Mr. Bear and Lady Bunny had consumed an estimated eighteen gallons of imaginary tea between them and Emma was still doling it out.
Eventually, she left Mama and Daddy to their own devices and settled for sitting at her table with Mr. Bear and Lady Bunny to whom she was serving imaginary cakes with their tea. Suddenly, I heard my daughter raise her voice and I found her standing at her table, shaking a finger at Mr. Bear, and telling him off in no uncertain terms as Mr. B cowered as best an inanimate object can.
Suddenly the years melted away and I was transported back to Oxford where I had seen similar scenes played out many times and with a good deal less maturity.
Incredible. In one evening my daughter had ran through the whole evolutionary scale from pretend fry up to the imaginary academic tea— up to and including venomous personal attacks delivered over the cake stand.
Makes a father proud.
Monday
13 December 2004
Rover Appreciation Day
Good morning, good morning, good morning!
And a very good morning it is, too! The sun is shining, it is a pleasant 73° outside, and it looks set to be another glorious day!
Here is some exciting news: All citizens of the Village (and remember that it is your Village) are reminded that today is Rover Appreciation Day.
Yes,
today is the day that, by order of No. 2, we spontaneously celebrate the
wonderful job done by our enigmatic biomechanical guardians in
keeping us safe and secure from subversives, would-be escapees,
freethinkers, and ourselves with only a minimum of innocent victims
suffocated because they were foolish enough not to stand stock still when
Rover passed by unannounced.
To mark the occasion there will be many exciting events such as the
ever-popular brass band concert (mandatory attendance on pain of severe
psychological torture), the 500 metre dash (open to all suspected
non-conformists; contestants to be announced by whomever Rover goes after
first), and the "Yes, you are too a number" lucky dip with the grand
prize of a free lobotomy.
Be seeing you!
Tuesday
14 December 2004
So they opted for brunch.
From the BBC:
Seven of Saddam Hussein's former top officials end a short-lived hunger strike in protest at their detention. They refused breakfast, but asked for food a few hours later.
I hate to stick my oar in, chaps, but where I come from opting for brunch does not count as a hunger strike.
Perhaps Humiliation is a Good Thing
According to this report, many Iraqis feel less grateful to the Coalition for liberating them from Saddam's tender mercies than they do humiliated. While they realise that they are no longer on a time share for a place in the Baathist torture cells, they resent the fact that a load of Christian infidels have been the agents of their salvation.
While some may see this as another set back in the campaign to bring Iraq into the civilised world, I see it as a positive step forward because, used correctly, humiliation can be a powerful tool in reforming a former dictatorship. One reason why the democratisation of Germany and Japan went so well (and it wasn't nearly as smooth as most people think) is because the Allies fairly, but firmly ground the villains' faces into the evil they'd done and made no apologies for overthrowing regimes that their people hadn't had the courage to chuck out themselves.
It may have hurt their pride, but it also made them realise that being a civilised country isn't a free ticket.
Environmental Update
Save the whales? Save the Italians!
Sowing and Reaping
This is one of those times when I hate being proven right. Thirty years ago when the the Netherlands and much of the rest of the Continent jumped with both feet into all that multi-culti nonsense I predicted that the whole thing would eventually implode like Howard Dean's presidential bid. Sure enough, we now see Amsterdam is a haven for drug addicts, the economy strangled by regulation, the people taxed to death, the churches empty, gay politicians assassinated, and left-wing filmmakers brutally murdered in the streets. The chickens have come home to roost and the Dutch middle class is legging it for safer climes. Mind you, since many of them are off to Canada and New Zealand it's a bit like running from one burning house to another, but at least some of them are recognising that laid-back Holland has turned into a cess pit.
How's that for labouring the old metaphors!
Wednesday
15 December 2004
Great Moments in Engineering
As work continued on the city's new nuclear power plant, Phillip was beginning to suspect that Prof. Marwell had misread the scale on the blueprints
Thursday
16 December 2004
Great Moments in Aviation
It is generally accepted that Albert Figus was the worst air traffic controller in history.
Friday
17 December 2004
Great Moments in Christmas Gifts
Oscar didn't have the heart to tell Deirdre what he really thought of the turtle-neck she'd bought him.
Monday
20 December 2004
Happy Christmas!
I'm off on a Christmas break, so here's wishing you all the best of the season from Ephemeral Isle. Back in the New Year.
Ephemeral Isle