I was in a car-crash a few minutes ago. Nothing serious — I can still move my arms enough to blog. Actually, there's no damage at all, which is kind of a shame, because the guy who caused the crash needs to learn to drive, and an accident that cost him nothing but mild embarassment probably isn't going to be the necessary incentive. On the plus side, it's nice not to have whiplash.
It was at traffic lights. I was sitting at the red light, handbrake on. Now, you're probably thinking that he was going too fast and didn't manage to stop in time. Nope. His car was stationary, too. So my car wasn't moving, his car was behind mine, not moving, and the car behind him wasn't moving, either — he didn't have the excuse of being shoved. Yet, somehow — I'm guessing through sheer tongue-dragging, gravel-eating idiocy — he managed to crash into me.
He seemed quite surprised, but then he's probably surprised when the sun rises every morning.
Wednesday, 2 November 2005
Monday, 31 October 2005
I'm rich! Rich, I tell you!
According to this cunning little calculation thingy, this blog what you're reading right now is worth $28,791.54. Blimey.
However, as far as I can see, there is no way whatsoever for me to sell the thing. Damned dead capital.
However, as far as I can see, there is no way whatsoever for me to sell the thing. Damned dead capital.
A big new thing.
I've been meaning to post about this for a while, but... er... haven't. True story.
Anyway, this is The Wikablog. It was Tim's brainchild, Chris provided the hosting and has done a spot of programming, and I built the thing. What it is is a big wiki full of blogs. The astute amongst you will realise that this means it should really be called the Blogwiki or something like that, but Wikablog just sounds better, damn it.
The great thing about wikis is that they're edited and updated by their readers, which leads to an accumulation of knowledge, which leads to large amounts of helpful information. What better way to catalogue the blogs of the world? Go and have a look at the thing. If you have a blog, add it to The Wikablog. Add other people's blogs too, if they're not already there and you think they should be. If they are already there, add your comments about them. The idea isn't to have arguments — if you think a particular blogger is an utter pain in the arse, mention it in their comments or email them or insult them on your own blog — but to add description. So "staunch Christian fundamentalist" is OK, but "rabid fucking Bible-bashing lunatic" is not. But you knew that.
Chris has some things to say about it, and has even created a special Wikablog logo for you to put on your site. I really ought to get around to putting it on here at some point.
My entry's here, if you're interested.
So off you run then, and enjoy. You can ask me for help, if you need it.
Anyway, this is The Wikablog. It was Tim's brainchild, Chris provided the hosting and has done a spot of programming, and I built the thing. What it is is a big wiki full of blogs. The astute amongst you will realise that this means it should really be called the Blogwiki or something like that, but Wikablog just sounds better, damn it.
The great thing about wikis is that they're edited and updated by their readers, which leads to an accumulation of knowledge, which leads to large amounts of helpful information. What better way to catalogue the blogs of the world? Go and have a look at the thing. If you have a blog, add it to The Wikablog. Add other people's blogs too, if they're not already there and you think they should be. If they are already there, add your comments about them. The idea isn't to have arguments — if you think a particular blogger is an utter pain in the arse, mention it in their comments or email them or insult them on your own blog — but to add description. So "staunch Christian fundamentalist" is OK, but "rabid fucking Bible-bashing lunatic" is not. But you knew that.
Chris has some things to say about it, and has even created a special Wikablog logo for you to put on your site. I really ought to get around to putting it on here at some point.
My entry's here, if you're interested.
So off you run then, and enjoy. You can ask me for help, if you need it.
Thursday, 27 October 2005
Land's End to John O'Groats.
I was just looking at a map of the UK, and realised that I've been as far north as Dornoch and at least as far south as Plymouth. It seems like such a waste, somehow, to have travelled so much of the length of the country but not quite to have done the whole distance. So I'm going to do it. I don't know when, and I'm not going to try anything rash like walking it or cycling it, but I am now determined to see both ends of Britain.
I'd do Ireland too, but the drive from the border to Dublin is just so boring. No challenge is worth that.
I'd do Ireland too, but the drive from the border to Dublin is just so boring. No challenge is worth that.
Wednesday, 26 October 2005
Cenk Uygur is wrong.
Amy Alkon has linked approvingly to this little diatribe from Cenk Uygur. She says it's eloquent, and she's half-right. If true eloquence includes the ability to persuade people to change their minds, crap like this fails the test abysmally. But Mr Uygur does do a very good job of clearly and precisely explaining to us all just how much of an arrogant twonk he is. Come to think of it, his writing is almost good enough to turn me religious, but, that being the opposite of his intention, I don't think that puts any points in his eloquence basket.
He then makes the same point again and again for another million or so paragraphs. We've heard it all before: religion is stupid, religious people are stupid, religious leaders cause wars; if only we had no religion, we wouldn't have wars. Oh, and anyone who voted for George W Bush is stupid — because Bush is religious. Call me suspicious, but I suspect Mr Uygur doesn't think quite the same about people who voted for the Christian John Kerry, the Christian Al Gore, or the Christian Bill Clinton.
Anyway, speaking as a staunch atheist, I think that Mr Uygur is deeply stupid.
First off, applying today's knowledge to the beliefs of our ancestors is a very stupid thing to do.
And so on. Anyone who has ever claimed to believe in a god, thinks Mr Uygur, was stupid or insane or lying.
In all of mankind's history, we have come up with only two good explanations for biological diversity: the theory of evolution, and some form of god. Prior to Darwin's publication, atheism was the stupid option. Science is the search for explanations for the universe. To refuse to consider giving any explanation at all for the existence and variety of every organism on Earth is not the scientific approach.
But that's really quite a minor quibble. Mr Uygur's real idiocy lies in his insistence that the reason we have so many disastrous wars, genocides, and sundry atrocities is that most of the world's leaders are religious.
It is possible — common, even — to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Let's just remind ourselves of which side were the theists and which were the atheists in the Cold War. And how about World War Two? One of Churchill's reasons for his determination never to surrender to or compromise with Nazism was his absolute dedication to the moral code that he believed mankind had received from God. Pol Pot? Mao? Atheists both. We were hearing a lot a couple of years ago about how Al Qaeda would never work with Saddam Hussein because he was a secular leader. His alleged secularism doesn't seem to have turned him peaceful, does it?
What's important in a leader is how they believe people should be treated, not which metaphysical and unprovable phenomena they believe exist. I don't look to the Prime Minister to inform me about the nature of the universe. Would you rather have a leader who doesn't believe in evolution but does believe in opposing fascists, or one who understands genetics and microbiology and thinks that his economic theories are worth sacrificing millions of lives for? No contest.
We live in a twisted world, where right is wrong and wrong reigns supreme. It is a chilling fact that most of the world's leaders believe in nonsensical fairytales about the nature of reality. They believe in Gods that do not exist, and religions that could not possibly be true. We are driven to war after war, violence on top of violence to appease madmen who believe in gory mythologies.
These men are called Christians, Muslims and Jews.
He then makes the same point again and again for another million or so paragraphs. We've heard it all before: religion is stupid, religious people are stupid, religious leaders cause wars; if only we had no religion, we wouldn't have wars. Oh, and anyone who voted for George W Bush is stupid — because Bush is religious. Call me suspicious, but I suspect Mr Uygur doesn't think quite the same about people who voted for the Christian John Kerry, the Christian Al Gore, or the Christian Bill Clinton.
Anyway, speaking as a staunch atheist, I think that Mr Uygur is deeply stupid.
First off, applying today's knowledge to the beliefs of our ancestors is a very stupid thing to do.
Mohammed was a pure charlatan -- and a good one at that.
....
Jesus is said to have said on the cross, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" Because Jesus was insane and the God he thought would rescue him did not exist. And he died on that cross like a fool.
And so on. Anyone who has ever claimed to believe in a god, thinks Mr Uygur, was stupid or insane or lying.
In all of mankind's history, we have come up with only two good explanations for biological diversity: the theory of evolution, and some form of god. Prior to Darwin's publication, atheism was the stupid option. Science is the search for explanations for the universe. To refuse to consider giving any explanation at all for the existence and variety of every organism on Earth is not the scientific approach.
But that's really quite a minor quibble. Mr Uygur's real idiocy lies in his insistence that the reason we have so many disastrous wars, genocides, and sundry atrocities is that most of the world's leaders are religious.
It is possible — common, even — to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Let's just remind ourselves of which side were the theists and which were the atheists in the Cold War. And how about World War Two? One of Churchill's reasons for his determination never to surrender to or compromise with Nazism was his absolute dedication to the moral code that he believed mankind had received from God. Pol Pot? Mao? Atheists both. We were hearing a lot a couple of years ago about how Al Qaeda would never work with Saddam Hussein because he was a secular leader. His alleged secularism doesn't seem to have turned him peaceful, does it?
What's important in a leader is how they believe people should be treated, not which metaphysical and unprovable phenomena they believe exist. I don't look to the Prime Minister to inform me about the nature of the universe. Would you rather have a leader who doesn't believe in evolution but does believe in opposing fascists, or one who understands genetics and microbiology and thinks that his economic theories are worth sacrificing millions of lives for? No contest.
Now, that's acting.
I can't stand Eastenders, arguably the worst program on British television, therefore don't watch it. But I caught a few minutes while channel-hopping the other night, and have to take my hat off to the writers for a masterful piece of irony. Imagine my surprise to see Barbara Windsor expressing anger and disgust towards an East-End gangster. Apparently, Ms Windsor's character, Peggy, thinks that men who have other men tortured for "not showing enough respect" are bad. I've never rated her acting skills up till now, but she was really quite convincing.
I'd just love to have seen her face when she first saw the script. I wonder whether there's a spot of backstage tension between her and the writers. Perhaps she had angered them in some way — by murdering most of her lines, for instance — and this is their revenge. Utter genius.
(Don't get the wrong idea. Doing this to Barbara Windsor is genius. The show's still pish.)
I'd just love to have seen her face when she first saw the script. I wonder whether there's a spot of backstage tension between her and the writers. Perhaps she had angered them in some way — by murdering most of her lines, for instance — and this is their revenge. Utter genius.
(Don't get the wrong idea. Doing this to Barbara Windsor is genius. The show's still pish.)
Knackered.
Edinburgh was OK. The venue, being a backpackers' hostel, was well attended by backpackers. Not a lot of people who came along especially to see us, though. And the sound was good out front but not the greatest on stage. That's perfectly normal, to be honest: we have a non-standard set-up and a singer prone to feedback, so engineers are less practiced at getting our kind of sound right than your average guitar band's. Anyway, what it meant is that we played perfectly well but that doing so took concentration, and that means no effortless and jubilant losing ourselves in the music like we did at The 13th Note on Thursday. But it was still fun, and the crowd cheered. The support acts, Asa and Replica, were both rather good. Asa were kind of William-Orbitish — never a bad thing — and Replica were like the late great Sputniks Down with vocals, which, if you ask me, is a Good Idea.
The poor car was seriously unhappy on the way back. I managed to stop it collapsing by driving most of the way at 60mph in third. We hired a van for Sunday.
There was some argument a while back about whether the drive from Dundee to Aberdeen is more or less dull than the drive from South Armagh down to Dublin. Concensus was that it was far more dull, which I found hard to believe. Well, having done it now, I still find it hard to believe. The drive up to Aberdeen has some boring bits, certainly, but nothing approaching the unbroken stretch of nails-in-the-brain tedium that is the road from the border to Dublin. What's more, it is relieved at regular intervals by some rather beautiful and dramatic bits of scenery, while the boredom of the drive to Dublin is broken up by industrial estates that appear to have been transplanted out of Belgium. Even the drive back from Aberdeen, in the dark, wasn't that boring.
The Aberdeen gig was great. Superb sound by Jenny the sound engineer, small crowd, lovely venue, nice people, and a couple of good support acts: Death By Dave and The Boy Lacks Patience. Death By Dave are entertaining and fun and a bit odd. The Boy Lacks Patience is just one bloke with a piano, and he deserves to become hugely successful — though probably by writing stuff for other people; I can't see him storming the charts. But you never know.
And now I'm back at work, paddywhackered. Yippee.
Dunfermline next week, and that'll be the lot.
The poor car was seriously unhappy on the way back. I managed to stop it collapsing by driving most of the way at 60mph in third. We hired a van for Sunday.
There was some argument a while back about whether the drive from Dundee to Aberdeen is more or less dull than the drive from South Armagh down to Dublin. Concensus was that it was far more dull, which I found hard to believe. Well, having done it now, I still find it hard to believe. The drive up to Aberdeen has some boring bits, certainly, but nothing approaching the unbroken stretch of nails-in-the-brain tedium that is the road from the border to Dublin. What's more, it is relieved at regular intervals by some rather beautiful and dramatic bits of scenery, while the boredom of the drive to Dublin is broken up by industrial estates that appear to have been transplanted out of Belgium. Even the drive back from Aberdeen, in the dark, wasn't that boring.
The Aberdeen gig was great. Superb sound by Jenny the sound engineer, small crowd, lovely venue, nice people, and a couple of good support acts: Death By Dave and The Boy Lacks Patience. Death By Dave are entertaining and fun and a bit odd. The Boy Lacks Patience is just one bloke with a piano, and he deserves to become hugely successful — though probably by writing stuff for other people; I can't see him storming the charts. But you never know.
And now I'm back at work, paddywhackered. Yippee.
Dunfermline next week, and that'll be the lot.
Friday, 21 October 2005
Ups and downs.
Well, St Andrews was a bit of a wash-out: we played to about a dozen people at the crowd's peak, more like seven for most of the gig. The Union, we were told by the gig's disgruntled organisers, hadn't bothered with the publicity. Idiots. Nothing's changed since I was there, then. (Might rant about that some other time.) Anyway, it was still quite fun, and the people who were there got up and danced, and we could do with the practice. Long way to drive for a rehearsal, though. Oh, and the car really wanted to break down on the way back, but I didn't let it. Got to bed at about four-thirty.
Then, last night, it was Glasgow. We only discovered on Wednesday that The 13th Note had billed this as Gig Of The Month, and we'd had a couple of favourable reviews in the local press. The two support acts had both pulled out at the last minute and the new support act that had been drafted in to replace them simply didn't turn up, so it was just us. But who cares? We don't need no steenking support act. We're the Gig Of The Bloody Month, we are. The place was packed.
There's no rational reason why any of us should be able to play better to a large crowd than a small one, but we did, of course. That's just the way it works. It was, I am told, one of the best gigs we've ever played. Ronnie turned out to be rather a good singer, and his performance helped make Given one of the highlights of the evening. John's settled in wonderfully on bass duties and was grooving away groovily. Donna's been taking jazz impro classes for months and is now an even better singer than she used to be — and she used to be brilliant. Alun's in fine form, and I hardly fucked up at all. Brendan O'Hare, lynchpin of Glasgow's music scene and nicest man in the world, was doing the sound and also did guest vocals on Mustard, which was a laugh. What with there being no support, we played extra songs and strung the whole thing out a bit. The crowd cheered a lot, wisely bought our CDs, and demanded an encore. A few old friends were there, and it was good to see them. It was just a fantastic night.
Alun is demanding that we start recording the second album immediately. I think we will. We're thinking of touring Ireland next year.
A day off today, then Edinburgh tomorrow. Can't wait.
Then, last night, it was Glasgow. We only discovered on Wednesday that The 13th Note had billed this as Gig Of The Month, and we'd had a couple of favourable reviews in the local press. The two support acts had both pulled out at the last minute and the new support act that had been drafted in to replace them simply didn't turn up, so it was just us. But who cares? We don't need no steenking support act. We're the Gig Of The Bloody Month, we are. The place was packed.
There's no rational reason why any of us should be able to play better to a large crowd than a small one, but we did, of course. That's just the way it works. It was, I am told, one of the best gigs we've ever played. Ronnie turned out to be rather a good singer, and his performance helped make Given one of the highlights of the evening. John's settled in wonderfully on bass duties and was grooving away groovily. Donna's been taking jazz impro classes for months and is now an even better singer than she used to be — and she used to be brilliant. Alun's in fine form, and I hardly fucked up at all. Brendan O'Hare, lynchpin of Glasgow's music scene and nicest man in the world, was doing the sound and also did guest vocals on Mustard, which was a laugh. What with there being no support, we played extra songs and strung the whole thing out a bit. The crowd cheered a lot, wisely bought our CDs, and demanded an encore. A few old friends were there, and it was good to see them. It was just a fantastic night.
Alun is demanding that we start recording the second album immediately. I think we will. We're thinking of touring Ireland next year.
A day off today, then Edinburgh tomorrow. Can't wait.
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