2012 — 16 August: Thursday
Well, it's not actually raining.
Remind me never to seek diplomatic asylum in a foreign embassy on UK soil. I don't recall mention of the threat of the 1987 Diplomatic and Consular Premises Act being used to winkle the fragrant Pinochet out of his bolt-hole, but for Mr Wikileaks the 'Establishment' is prepared to invoke it. There's justice1 for you. And on the anniversary of Peterloo, too. Makes you proud to be British.
Yawn
Well what do you expect if you don't actually get to bed until 01:30? — the lure of Sorkin's "The Newsroom" was too powerful. Silly chap. Me, not Sorkin.
Banks take note:
For most of the past decade, the Navy has sacked COs at a rate of roughly one a month. But last year the Navy fired 22, and less than halfway into 2012, the number of sackings stood at 10.
This is not about holding leaders to some imaginary exacting standard. While every case is different, alcohol abuse, boorish behavior, inappropriate relationships, and verbal and even physical
abuse of crew have all figured in recent firings. Such cases have far outstripped firings for operational accidents or errors. Yet for years, Navy leaders insisted there was nothing wrong
with their screening process.
I wonder how long Captain Queeg would have survived?
Smile!
As ever, the innocent have nothing to fear. But assymetrical surveillance is truly offensive. Besides (also as ever) who guards the guardians? Should I be looking into and wasting my life worrying about Trapwire? Or should I just continue to avoid London? And Disneyland? And New York?
Until we reach the craziness of the Stasi days with almost half the population spying and reporting on the other half I will merely observe that large scale screening measures that have a non-zero number of false positives will always exhaust/waste resources long before achieving any worthwhile result. There are far better things to be done with our limited resources and our limited time on this planet. (Link.)
Who knew?
While searching, with limited success, for my database entry of the CD of the Utah Symphony Orchestra playing music from the "Star Wars" trilogy I've just discovered that Alfred Newman (Randy's uncle) is credited with the 20th Century Fox fanfare. I don't think I knew that. And down comes the next shower. I think I shall break for 'lemonses'.
Just in time to soothe the shock of a credit card bill for my new CD player, comes this lovely chunk of parcel post:
Ms Byrne asserts "Saki rarely put sensible words in duchesses' mouths... In the course of a conversation about 'Right and wrong, good conduct and moral rectitude', the Duchess is given a set-down that would have stunned2 a hippo." Having taken my OCR software out for a flawless little scan of the story in question (Reginald at the Theatre), let's see:
"Oh, you're simply exasperating. You've been reading Nietzsche till you haven't got any sense of moral proportion left. May I ask if you are governed by any laws of conduct whatever?"
"There are certain fixed rules that one observes for one's own comfort. For instance, never be flippantly rude to any inoffensive, grey-bearded stranger that you may meet in pine forests
or hotel smoking-rooms on the Continent. It always turns out to be the King of Sweden."
"The restraint must be dreadfully irksome to you. When I was younger, boys of your age used to be nice and innocent."
"Now we are only nice. One must specialize in these days. Which reminds me of the man I read of in some sacred book who was given a choice of what he most desired. And because he didn't
ask for titles and honours and dignities, but only for immense wealth, these other things came to him also."
"I am sure you didn't read about him in any sacred book."
"Yes; I fancy you will find him in Debrett."
The rain has stopped. Lunch, methinks.
I've been rummaging...
... through a box or two of Christa's papers. In this case, mostly old (and I do mean old) family letters, photos, newspaper clippings, diaries. Some of it is the source material for her intended retirement project — a comprehensive history of the place in which she grew up: Meisenheim. Here, for example, is a lovely rendering of the cathedral, directly across the square from her parent's house.3
I was once allowed to ascend the bell tower, 38 years ago, after some special pleading by my then not-quite father-in-law! I was surprised how quickly I got used to the sound of the bells, though it's now over 20 years since I last heard them. I was also (pleasantly) surprised by not getting upset this afternoon while going through this material. I miss Christa — very much — but I also have a skull full of happy memories of our life together.
Well, blow me down. I'd been going to nip out to the green bin with a pile of discardable stuff (having culled everything I don't wish to keep, or see again) only to realise it's pouring with rain. When did that happen? [Pause] And now it's 19:26 and time for a spot of video-based entertainment.
When the world and I...
... were both a few years younger — and (crucially) Christa was around to help — getting things up into, and back down from, the loft was pretty much a doddle. Those days, and some proportion of flexibility in various limb joints, are (sadly) a thing of the past. It's just taken me about 45 minutes, and more than a few choice cuss words, to locate and then relocate two storeys down, a mere three cartons of CDs.
I need a cuppa!