2011 — 1 February: Tuesday — rabbits!
Leaving to one side Intel's woes1 I was greatly tickled to read this. Source and snippet:
Embedded in the corporate DNA of push media like broadcast television is the assumption that viewers are, if not exactly idiots, then passive consumers. The deal [sic] that they receive gratefully what we, the broadcasters, decide to create. The couch potato is thus the paradigmatic product of broadcast television. So you can see why television executives were so puzzled by the web, and particularly by the rise in user-generated content like blogs or YouTube videos: to them, the idea of such content is an oxymoron, like "military intelligence". Viewers aren't creative, and even if they were, there's no way anyone would let them publish their crap.
Quite so.
Being the hoarding type, I just happen to have still tucked away a lovely review Mr Naughton wrote quite some while ago of Kenith Trodd's production (directed by some young chap called Danny Boyle) of GF Newman's "For the greater good"...
The action is set in the near future with rampant AIDS, prison riots, official secrecy and a police service which is out of control.2 The only comic relief is provided by Michael Winner, who plays a mad capitalist lobbying for a free market in human organs. "Peter, Peter," he says to the havering Balliol, "we all want an ideal world, but Britain's lead in transplant technology will be lost if the supply side is left to the priests."
This seemed a bit OTT until I was reminded that just over two years ago in the Commons a Tory MP did in fact clamour for a free market in human organs. He was interrupted by the irrepressible Tony Banks (Lab) who shouted: "In that case I put in a bid for Cecil Parkinson's plonker." This brought the House down, as you can imagine, and induced extended hysteria in many of the journalists present. Alas, the exchange is obscured in Hansard, which merely records "an Interruption" at that point.
And people wonder why I no longer watch broadcast TV these days. Right. Time for some sleep. G'night.
Goodness gracious me
I had no idea the astrology chaps were gunning for the science chaps and the comedians. What a funny world.
And the astrology chaps misunderstand apostrophes, too. Where don't I (star) sign?
Hey! A new Havelock Ellis quote — that's two in the last 39 days:
The whole religious complexion of the modern world is due to the absence of a lunatic asylum in Jerusalem.
Obviously must be time for breakfast to dispel the incipient light-headedness. It's 09:32 and dull grey out there. But at least it's already 6C warmer than last night.
Font of all knowledge
Verity Stob has a great piece here, with a wonderful sting in its tail.
On the principle that it's never too late to start getting organised (until you're dead), I thought I'd download and try out this free "AceMoneyLite" software. ("Which?" thought it was the bees' knees some time ago.) Dull, I grant you, but quite possibly a Good Thing. But first, time to stock up on the next batch of chocs for my visit to dear Mama. Let's hope there are no more clumsy Mercedes drivers with tow-bars lurking in the car park. I've only got a few undamaged surfaces left on the poor car. [Pause] Late change of plan. Heading out for lunch, first, a good long way in the other direction from the care home. I'm retired, you know. Hang the weather.
Later
Right! Time to visit the Aged P. It's a bit murky out there, and rather cool. [Pause] It's now 17:22 and I'm recently back via Mike, from whom I cheekily blagged a cuppa. I shall now pour myself into a nice, hot bath before contemplating an evening meal and the various options for cerebral stimulation. These include, but are not limited to, the morsels deposited by Mr Postie while I was out this morning in the wilds of Wiltshire wending my way westward:
Spoiler Alert
Don't miss a lovely, well-reasoned, mini-rant here.