And so it came to pass that the semi-retired Beard found that not working meant that he actually had less time to digress than he had before... which shows more than anything how easy his job at the Co-op was... but redundancy has now followed up on its heinous threats to the Beard and Mrs Beard and both are now at the vague and tenuous mercies of the temp agencies... which is nice...
And to be honest, the lovely Mrs Beard is indeed loving her new found freedom, looking forward to furthering her already more-advanced-than-the-Beard education at Doncaster University, where she is entering into one of the caring professions... meanwhile a variety of jobs has been taken up, including one which ocasionally featured free beer... which was a bonus...
The Beard on the other hand found that after losing a job delivering furniture, he has found some small amount of work writing... which readers of this blog will find strange indeed... on top of this, he has had a complete change in career, and has spent much of the last six weeks... delivering furniture... but I digress...
Temp work seems to be the thing of the future, which may be no bad thing... especially for those employers who can't be bothered to pay for permanent staff... but hey ho, as the saying goes... of course, doing temporary driving work gives lots of time for thought and listening to the old wireless, or the new radio, whichever is fitted....and recently on the Jeremy Vine show, there was a piece about a poor organist who was beaten to death on Christmas eve...
What struck the Beard about the whole thing were two things... first, that the man's wife is being criticised for forgiving the men responsible, which is, after all, what any Christian should do... after all, does the Bible not state that defying God is the biggest sin of all, and did not the Christian God issue instructions to forgive? It reminds me of a parable that my Curate once told me, and I repeat here...
Two men went up to Jesus, asking for forgiveness for their sins... the first man was weeping, and told Jesus that he had murdered a man... the second looked horrified at this, and said "at least I'm not as bad as he is! I've sinned several times, hundreds to be honest, but they were only little sins..." Jesus told them each to go and get rocks that symbolised their sins.. the murderer returned with a rock almost as big as himself... the other man with a bag of small stones... "Excellent," said Jesus... "Now, forgiveness follows repentance, and repentance is putting back your sin... so go back, and put each rock back EXACTLY where you found it..."
Now the point our Curate was making was that to God a sin is a sin...and that many small sins are harder to forgive than one big sin... I took it to say that God had no sense of proportion.. after all, according to the Bible, repentance is everything... so a person who steals a pencil, then never even feels bad about it is damned... whereas a multiple murderer who truly repents will be saved...
So the organist's wife is on the right track...she is obeying her God, and more power to her.. if more so-called Christian behaved in such a way, maybe the world would be a better place... maybe... also, forgiveness can be cathartic... by forgiving these men, she is telling them that what they did is not going to ruin her life, that she is not going to allow them to have power over her... she is, in essence showing all and sundry taht she is a better person than they are.. which reminds me of something i overheard a Christian friend of mine say about a man who had attacked her... she was being asked, "What if he sits in prison, turns to God, and begs for forgiveness?" To he rcredit, she said "If he finds God in prison, that will be great.. if he doesn't, fair enough... but either way, if he wants to come to my church, I'll make sure everyone welcomes him..." And there are very few like that among the church goers I know...
The other thing that struck me was that everyone seemed to think that the attackers had no reason to attack the organist... when it is obvious to me that they did... I think people are just reluctant to admit what that reason was...
Nobody does anything without having some reason for doing it... if anyone says otherwise, you are reducing people to automata, unthinking machines who cannot therefore be blamed for their actions... these men, and thousands of others, had what they thought at the time was a very valid reason for beating a man to death... they thought about it, weighed the upside against the downside, then deliberately chose to do it... not to rob him, not because he had harmed them, but because they thought it would be fun... they thought, as they left the party they had attended, that the perfect way to finish the evening was to find someone and enjoy the act of beating him to death... and unless we admit that this was their reason, and that they found this to be a valid reason for their actions, we will never be able to stamp out behaviour such as this... why they thought it would be enjoyable, I have no idea.. but they did... and there are many out there who enjoy causing harm... battered spouses are not battered because they've done something wrong, they are battered because the person doing the battering enjoys it... and to make that choice, to choose to hurt someone else because you think you'll enjoy it, is possibly the most evil thing there is... it is a persons way of saying that they are more important than you, that you are there for their convenience, that you do not matter as much as their enjoyment of life... it is the supreme act of selfishness, and it is, in the truest sense of the word, evil.. but it is not senseless, it is not motiveless, and it is not without reason...
But the hour grows early, and I grow disgruntled... and, knowing that this is now not the place for humour, I shall put none down.. but I will say, all your choices are your own, and hopefully one day, we will all learn to make the right ones... but until that day, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday 20 July 2013
Saturday 9 March 2013
So, yet again, at the point where you had all given up on the Beard, and hoped, dreamed, known, that the hirsute one's blog had finally given up the ghost and disappeared, suddenly, with only a little warning, like a sudden bout of norovirus induced vomitting, he returns, complete with bad spelling and incessant use of far too much punctuation!!!!!!
So, was it really November, I hear you ask, when the irritatingly over-paranthesised Beard last posted? Well, according to the evidence available on the worlb wibe wed, it surely was... and now it seems to be March, and so much water has passed under the bridge that some of it is on its way round for a second go...
But I digress...
A lot of stuff has happened in the last few months or so... not least of which was that Beard Junior has not only become legally able to drive, but that he has purchased and insured, entirely through his own efforts, a vehicle of his own, to whit, a nice shiny red Ford Ka, built in 2005... so mobility is now his watchword... a watchword that inevitably smells rather of dog, due to his form of gainful employment as an animal care assisitant... but more power to the young man... his dream is not only being followed, but being followed by himself, which is more than most of us can say...
On the subject of dreams, the one about the teeth has reared its ugly tongue again... (you know the one... you dream it too, and if you don't, I can assure you, you soon will....)
But again, the Beard fails to get to the point, if indeed there is any point... and lest you, dear reader, think that that may be a depressing thought, allow me to correct you.. for life indeed, from a personal point of view, is indeed pointless... now, from the angle of the species, and of the ecosystem, then there is obviously a lot of point to all life... but let's be honest here... ask yourself this... what did your mother do? And her mother? What about her mum? And hers? And hers? Getting difficult? Ok, who was your most direct ancestor in 1513??? It was only 500 years ago, after all? Chances are, you have no idea... and if you do, then find something else to do, rather than digging up the past...
The fact is that in 500 years time it is almost certain that no one will remember who you were or what you did... some of us, yes, the bridge builders and famous authors maybe... as an aside, there are young people today who don't know any Beatles songs... and I met one who, at the age of 14, had never heard of the Beatles... which should be a lesson to us all...
Now, some of you are feeling down.. and I understand why... but I believe that many of us miss the point of pointlessness.... let me expand... which is something I've been doing since I was born, so I should be quite good at it... although, as y Father often pointed out to me, there are ten miles between should and is... and there's no bus... but yet again I digress....
The fact that nothing we do really has a point is a liberating thing.. imagine... if nothing we do relly matters, then we can do anything.. obviously, we should moderate that by only allowing ourselves to do that which doesn't affect others badly... but that's a moral issue, and technically (although horribly) doing bad things doesn't really affect anything in the grand scheme... but once we accept that the amount of harm and good we do is virtually zero, we can concentrate on the things that really matter, like enjoying what life we have...
As an example, the Beard is aware of at least one school colleague who has worked for over twenty five years doing a job he hates... and why? Because he thought it mattered... then suddenly he realised that it didn't... and mourned for the years when he could have been having fun.... and there are so many of us in the same situation...
As for the Beard, liberation from toil beckons... his workplace for the past 13 years is closing down, with the loss of nearly 400 jobs, and much wailing and gnashing of teeth... imminent redundancy has changed the attitudes of many involved, but the Beard remains determined to fill his remianing dys wth jollity and good customer service right to the end, safe in the knowledge that his role in life is small and unimportant... and so he may as well gain happiness, pride and goodwill in doing his job well... and as for the despair at being unemployed... well, the Beard has long held Mr Micawber to be one of his heroes, and is absolutely positive that something will turn up... if the Beard gives it enough of a nudge...
For the real truth of living in the Western world is this... that even the poor tend to have enough... rarely in this country does anyone starve, rarely do they unavoidably freeze to death, or get savaged by wild animals... there are people in foreign parts (such as Warwickshire) whose idea of luxury corresponds with our idea of a slum that needs clearing...
And talking of slum clearance, Mrs Beard and yours Truly have recently returned from a trip to the lovely city of Berlin, where much happiness and high-place malarkey took place, including a trip to Spandau, the Cathedral, Alexanderplatz (which I can recommend over the apparently more popular and far too Americanised Potsdamer Platz....) On the trip I managed to se Hooded Crows, a bird I've not seen since a Scottish trip nearly twenty years ago, Goshawks and a Crested Tit... which was nice... and Mrs Beard enjoyed herself immensely, having finally strolled under the Brandenburg Gate and loitered on Unter den Linden...
But time draws on, and the rest shall emerge another time... but until evrything that mattrs doesn't and vice versa, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, was it really November, I hear you ask, when the irritatingly over-paranthesised Beard last posted? Well, according to the evidence available on the worlb wibe wed, it surely was... and now it seems to be March, and so much water has passed under the bridge that some of it is on its way round for a second go...
But I digress...
A lot of stuff has happened in the last few months or so... not least of which was that Beard Junior has not only become legally able to drive, but that he has purchased and insured, entirely through his own efforts, a vehicle of his own, to whit, a nice shiny red Ford Ka, built in 2005... so mobility is now his watchword... a watchword that inevitably smells rather of dog, due to his form of gainful employment as an animal care assisitant... but more power to the young man... his dream is not only being followed, but being followed by himself, which is more than most of us can say...
On the subject of dreams, the one about the teeth has reared its ugly tongue again... (you know the one... you dream it too, and if you don't, I can assure you, you soon will....)
But again, the Beard fails to get to the point, if indeed there is any point... and lest you, dear reader, think that that may be a depressing thought, allow me to correct you.. for life indeed, from a personal point of view, is indeed pointless... now, from the angle of the species, and of the ecosystem, then there is obviously a lot of point to all life... but let's be honest here... ask yourself this... what did your mother do? And her mother? What about her mum? And hers? And hers? Getting difficult? Ok, who was your most direct ancestor in 1513??? It was only 500 years ago, after all? Chances are, you have no idea... and if you do, then find something else to do, rather than digging up the past...
The fact is that in 500 years time it is almost certain that no one will remember who you were or what you did... some of us, yes, the bridge builders and famous authors maybe... as an aside, there are young people today who don't know any Beatles songs... and I met one who, at the age of 14, had never heard of the Beatles... which should be a lesson to us all...
Now, some of you are feeling down.. and I understand why... but I believe that many of us miss the point of pointlessness.... let me expand... which is something I've been doing since I was born, so I should be quite good at it... although, as y Father often pointed out to me, there are ten miles between should and is... and there's no bus... but yet again I digress....
The fact that nothing we do really has a point is a liberating thing.. imagine... if nothing we do relly matters, then we can do anything.. obviously, we should moderate that by only allowing ourselves to do that which doesn't affect others badly... but that's a moral issue, and technically (although horribly) doing bad things doesn't really affect anything in the grand scheme... but once we accept that the amount of harm and good we do is virtually zero, we can concentrate on the things that really matter, like enjoying what life we have...
As an example, the Beard is aware of at least one school colleague who has worked for over twenty five years doing a job he hates... and why? Because he thought it mattered... then suddenly he realised that it didn't... and mourned for the years when he could have been having fun.... and there are so many of us in the same situation...
As for the Beard, liberation from toil beckons... his workplace for the past 13 years is closing down, with the loss of nearly 400 jobs, and much wailing and gnashing of teeth... imminent redundancy has changed the attitudes of many involved, but the Beard remains determined to fill his remianing dys wth jollity and good customer service right to the end, safe in the knowledge that his role in life is small and unimportant... and so he may as well gain happiness, pride and goodwill in doing his job well... and as for the despair at being unemployed... well, the Beard has long held Mr Micawber to be one of his heroes, and is absolutely positive that something will turn up... if the Beard gives it enough of a nudge...
For the real truth of living in the Western world is this... that even the poor tend to have enough... rarely in this country does anyone starve, rarely do they unavoidably freeze to death, or get savaged by wild animals... there are people in foreign parts (such as Warwickshire) whose idea of luxury corresponds with our idea of a slum that needs clearing...
And talking of slum clearance, Mrs Beard and yours Truly have recently returned from a trip to the lovely city of Berlin, where much happiness and high-place malarkey took place, including a trip to Spandau, the Cathedral, Alexanderplatz (which I can recommend over the apparently more popular and far too Americanised Potsdamer Platz....) On the trip I managed to se Hooded Crows, a bird I've not seen since a Scottish trip nearly twenty years ago, Goshawks and a Crested Tit... which was nice... and Mrs Beard enjoyed herself immensely, having finally strolled under the Brandenburg Gate and loitered on Unter den Linden...
But time draws on, and the rest shall emerge another time... but until evrything that mattrs doesn't and vice versa, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday 18 November 2012
Parties, Posts, and Productions....
So, it came to pass... but that's enough of the Beard's digestive-related problems.. I'm sure none of you are really all that interested... but I digress... it definitely came to pass though, which I'm told was a good thing... but anyway...
Now those of you who know the Beard, and some of you who don't, and possiby a number of you who both do and don't or don't and do, or any possible combination of the three, will of course realise that on top of falling, felling and Mrs Alice Jones of 38 Winzle Crescent Brighton, there are several things that the Beard is not fond of... (and for those of you wondering about the unfortunate Alice, it's a long story, but one which I will tell anyway...simply put, the Beard once read in some half garbled self help book that irrational fears can actually be beneficial, and so decided that he would develop one of the said Brightonian...I have never actually met her, and know absolutely nothing of her, but the thought of her ills me with terror, and, let us be hones, what could be more irrational, and therefore beneficial than that... but again I digress....)
As the Hirsute one was attempting to say ("Get on with it!" I hear you cry... "Our cornflakes are getting soggy, and there is literally nothing, not even war, that is worse than that...") among the things that I dislike are noise, crowds, football, drunken people, erratic use of the "Oxford comma," and staying up after midnight... so it may surprise you that the Beard was actually at a party the other night... football was fortunately absent, but in the speech patterns of those present I detected much misuse of my third favourite punctuation device... (for those of you who are not in the slightest interested, my favourites are of course "..." and ";".... with """ falling into fourth place... oh gods, what a life the Beard leads, ranking punctuation marks.. I must go and weep....)
Sorry for the delay... took me a while to find the tissues... which is an awful predicament for a man of my staure... or even a man of my statues...
But back to the gist of the tale... I hesitate to say "point," as I am, to be honest, struggling to find one... If you can help, answers on a postcard please... please!!
Regardless of all this, the party was not the most unpleasant one I have ever attended..no, that one was unspeakable and involved.. well, you can guess... but regardless, football was not on the guest list, but all the others were...
The occasion was the end of post production at the BBC in Birmingham... now the Beard, in his naivety, assumed this meant that no one at the aforementioned tv company was now allowed to send letters or parcels, or do anything that could create them... which would have been a sad day indeed for not just the beeb, but also the Post office, itself in hard times...
But no... post production, as all of you have almost certainly either figured out or not, is all the editting, tweaking and so on that finishes off a programme so that it is actually watchble... and any directors, cameramen, etc out there, please don't take that the wrong way... but I've seen progs being made, and if they were broadcast exactly as they were filmed, then "Homes under the Hammer" would be a three day epic of execrable quality, rather than just half an hour of tosh.... but I'm sure you know that already...
Pedantically of course, this means that post-prodution should actually be labelled "the last stage of production..." for surely post means after, and editing et al obviously occurs before there is a finished product... but none of that is important... which is the way of most television... as I'm sure they will agree...
But regardless, the Beard found himself in a room of tv types now faced with the option of moving to the strange fastnesses of wales, Manchester and Bristol, or even worse, the move to a world outside of television that they really cannot understand, and do not have the skills to live in... if a zoo were to do this with its chimpanzees, there would be outcry from conservation groups and babnana growers alike... but humans are, increasingly, less valued than their other simian cousins, and the BBC's cruelty is going unremarked... the Director General (the last of whom apparently was recruited from a temp agency) makes no mention of the end of the Birmingham operation... the news is empty... no one cares... it's as if the whole of the BBC wants to forget that Birmingham ever existed... which apparently is not an uncommon feeling... that this all connects with London's jealousy of Birmingham's growth and position is self evident, and has been explored somewhere else...if I remember correctly...
So, at the noisy party, gruntled people were not much in evidence... and the Beard, with his innate dislike of people in general, found that this added to what enjoyment he could glean from the affair... the attendees fell into one of three camps... those who were otherwise normal folks who had, through no fault of their own, been sucked into a career in visual media, those who were so shallow that they saw their positions as important, and those from the cardboards tents outside who had gatecrashed... including a rather disturbing looking man who stood by the door to the toilet all night, causing many crossed legs..
The Beard unfortunately slightly upset one of the first camp by not recognising any of the progs he had worked on, and admitting that the Beard is far more of a radio man...had it been a shallow man, the Beard would have taken pleasure... however, it was rather a poignant episode...
The shallow ones were the most fun, as you can imagine... One young lady was walking around apparently talking only to those who could possibly further her career... after eavesdropping (a very difficult thing to do in those volumes) the Beard thought her shallowness worthy of note, and was gratified when she approached him... now, parties bring out the worst of the Beard... and when she inquired as to my role, I declared myself to be the UK Commisioning Agent for AmritsarGold TV, a (hopefully) fictitious Indian production and broadcasting firm... her interest waned, until I claimed that we were only a small company, with average viewing figures of around 23 million, not counting syndication to Africa and the USA... her face lit up as she inquired further, and it was revealed that the Beard apparently has the job of buying foreign programmes for the broadcast side, and is in charge of a new venture involving producing programmes in the UK using UK professionals... for which pay would not be high... funded as it is by advertising revenue alone, AGTV would be unable to pay directors, series producers, etc, much more than 150 grand per programme... programmes of course taking three months from beginning to end... the poor girls eyes were lit up with hope when the Beard unfortunately saw someone he really had to talk to... the long suffering Mrs Beard.... and maybe I shouldn't have done it, but hey, apparently one is supposed to enjoy oneself at parties..
But time draws on, and the floor beckons my feet... so little room now to mention the charming software bod who I think will be a top children's writer, and the clumsy drunken attempt at chatting up the Beard... and it remains only to say that, until Birmingham is remembered, and shallow people end up in the deeps, and production really is post, Wisebeard Salutes You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now those of you who know the Beard, and some of you who don't, and possiby a number of you who both do and don't or don't and do, or any possible combination of the three, will of course realise that on top of falling, felling and Mrs Alice Jones of 38 Winzle Crescent Brighton, there are several things that the Beard is not fond of... (and for those of you wondering about the unfortunate Alice, it's a long story, but one which I will tell anyway...simply put, the Beard once read in some half garbled self help book that irrational fears can actually be beneficial, and so decided that he would develop one of the said Brightonian...I have never actually met her, and know absolutely nothing of her, but the thought of her ills me with terror, and, let us be hones, what could be more irrational, and therefore beneficial than that... but again I digress....)
As the Hirsute one was attempting to say ("Get on with it!" I hear you cry... "Our cornflakes are getting soggy, and there is literally nothing, not even war, that is worse than that...") among the things that I dislike are noise, crowds, football, drunken people, erratic use of the "Oxford comma," and staying up after midnight... so it may surprise you that the Beard was actually at a party the other night... football was fortunately absent, but in the speech patterns of those present I detected much misuse of my third favourite punctuation device... (for those of you who are not in the slightest interested, my favourites are of course "..." and ";".... with """ falling into fourth place... oh gods, what a life the Beard leads, ranking punctuation marks.. I must go and weep....)
Sorry for the delay... took me a while to find the tissues... which is an awful predicament for a man of my staure... or even a man of my statues...
But back to the gist of the tale... I hesitate to say "point," as I am, to be honest, struggling to find one... If you can help, answers on a postcard please... please!!
Regardless of all this, the party was not the most unpleasant one I have ever attended..no, that one was unspeakable and involved.. well, you can guess... but regardless, football was not on the guest list, but all the others were...
The occasion was the end of post production at the BBC in Birmingham... now the Beard, in his naivety, assumed this meant that no one at the aforementioned tv company was now allowed to send letters or parcels, or do anything that could create them... which would have been a sad day indeed for not just the beeb, but also the Post office, itself in hard times...
But no... post production, as all of you have almost certainly either figured out or not, is all the editting, tweaking and so on that finishes off a programme so that it is actually watchble... and any directors, cameramen, etc out there, please don't take that the wrong way... but I've seen progs being made, and if they were broadcast exactly as they were filmed, then "Homes under the Hammer" would be a three day epic of execrable quality, rather than just half an hour of tosh.... but I'm sure you know that already...
Pedantically of course, this means that post-prodution should actually be labelled "the last stage of production..." for surely post means after, and editing et al obviously occurs before there is a finished product... but none of that is important... which is the way of most television... as I'm sure they will agree...
But regardless, the Beard found himself in a room of tv types now faced with the option of moving to the strange fastnesses of wales, Manchester and Bristol, or even worse, the move to a world outside of television that they really cannot understand, and do not have the skills to live in... if a zoo were to do this with its chimpanzees, there would be outcry from conservation groups and babnana growers alike... but humans are, increasingly, less valued than their other simian cousins, and the BBC's cruelty is going unremarked... the Director General (the last of whom apparently was recruited from a temp agency) makes no mention of the end of the Birmingham operation... the news is empty... no one cares... it's as if the whole of the BBC wants to forget that Birmingham ever existed... which apparently is not an uncommon feeling... that this all connects with London's jealousy of Birmingham's growth and position is self evident, and has been explored somewhere else...if I remember correctly...
So, at the noisy party, gruntled people were not much in evidence... and the Beard, with his innate dislike of people in general, found that this added to what enjoyment he could glean from the affair... the attendees fell into one of three camps... those who were otherwise normal folks who had, through no fault of their own, been sucked into a career in visual media, those who were so shallow that they saw their positions as important, and those from the cardboards tents outside who had gatecrashed... including a rather disturbing looking man who stood by the door to the toilet all night, causing many crossed legs..
The Beard unfortunately slightly upset one of the first camp by not recognising any of the progs he had worked on, and admitting that the Beard is far more of a radio man...had it been a shallow man, the Beard would have taken pleasure... however, it was rather a poignant episode...
The shallow ones were the most fun, as you can imagine... One young lady was walking around apparently talking only to those who could possibly further her career... after eavesdropping (a very difficult thing to do in those volumes) the Beard thought her shallowness worthy of note, and was gratified when she approached him... now, parties bring out the worst of the Beard... and when she inquired as to my role, I declared myself to be the UK Commisioning Agent for AmritsarGold TV, a (hopefully) fictitious Indian production and broadcasting firm... her interest waned, until I claimed that we were only a small company, with average viewing figures of around 23 million, not counting syndication to Africa and the USA... her face lit up as she inquired further, and it was revealed that the Beard apparently has the job of buying foreign programmes for the broadcast side, and is in charge of a new venture involving producing programmes in the UK using UK professionals... for which pay would not be high... funded as it is by advertising revenue alone, AGTV would be unable to pay directors, series producers, etc, much more than 150 grand per programme... programmes of course taking three months from beginning to end... the poor girls eyes were lit up with hope when the Beard unfortunately saw someone he really had to talk to... the long suffering Mrs Beard.... and maybe I shouldn't have done it, but hey, apparently one is supposed to enjoy oneself at parties..
But time draws on, and the floor beckons my feet... so little room now to mention the charming software bod who I think will be a top children's writer, and the clumsy drunken attempt at chatting up the Beard... and it remains only to say that, until Birmingham is remembered, and shallow people end up in the deeps, and production really is post, Wisebeard Salutes You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday 17 September 2012
News, views, slews and stews.. well, some of them anyway....
Now, as you all may not know, except for those of you who don't, if that makes sense (and I fervently hope that it doesn't...) the Beard never claims to be up to date with the news... the local gossip, possibly, especially that which he makes up himself on the spot, and never mind this country's tortuous libel laws... but I digress....
However, two recent articles have caught the hirsute eye of this blogster... and, unrelated as they are, it seems thematic similarities may or indeed may not tie them together...
Of course, contrary to any sense, let alone reason, the allegedly big news this week is that some poor French photographer has managed to take some topless photos of a certain kate Middleton, wife to a possible heir to the possible heir to the throne of this country... and not, as was stated erroneously on the radio today, the wife of the heir to the throne... (for those of you who may be interested, and for the sake of accuracy, the wife to the heir apparent is currently one Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall... and prince William is currently merely heir to the Duchy of Cornwall and to the Principality of Wales...)
But regardless, a lot of fuss is being made of this, and the Beard has to admit that he cannot fathom why... for several reasons... first and foremost, as was so ably stated by one commentator today, if a British magazine managed to get similar shots of the wife of the son of the heir to, for example, the king of Norway, would we feel the same? Of course we wouldn't... but why?? The Duchess of Cambridge is, when you get down to it, no more connected to most of us than said Norwegian... for despite our tabloids telling us that we somehow own our celebs, we don't...
Secondly, it seems to me that the tabloid press is being even more than usually hypocritical in this instance... had these been shots of, say, Victoria Beckham, they'd be all over everywhere... the French, of course, who value celebrity far less, can't see what the fuss is about...
Thirdly, of course, it has to be said that said Kate should really know that the press will be following wherever, and maybe should have thought twice about removing garments where she could be seen from the road.. and I know that it was a long way from the road, but surely most peope nowadays know about telescopic zoom lenses....
Lastly, and most importantly, the reason the Beard feels there is too much being made of it all is that after seeing the pics, the Beard has to say that what she has, is, put bluntly, not really worth seeing... I know we keep getting told about how beautiful she is, but honestly, she's just the latest in a long line of vapid, vague and bland thin women who are, I'm afraid, not actually attractive... although, bucking the trend, I must admit she is better looking than her sister...
Now I'm not saying that Kate is vile, or ugly... she's evidently not... but neither is she either good looking or sexy... and I know it's a crime to say so... but it's true... along with so much of the present day, from music, to art, to literature, beauty is very much a case of the Emperor's new clothes... people are beautiful because we are told they are, and we are told they are because they are rich and famous... it's all about image, shallowness and publicity...
Now, if the beard were any kind of cynic, he would be saying that maybe Kate is, as the tabloids claim, trying to stand in the shoes of the late Diana, Princess of Wales... that is, that she is learning how to manipulate the media and the public, and shamelessly self-publicise... for the Beard can but wonder what the young royals expect to gain from their injunction... the photos will still be published, the press will not change their behaviour, and the royals seriously do not need the money... and if you add in the fact that if they'd stayed quiet the whole thig would have been forgotten about by Thursday, then it just seems to the Beard that the only reason to make a fuss is so that more people know about it...
But I digress... the other thing in the news is, of course, education... and the news that the GCSE system with its course work si to be scrapped... which a lot of people are saying is a good thing... a return to the old system of learning for years followed by an exam must be better.... and being old, the beard must surely agree... or so you say.. but of course, as with most things, the Beard does not agree at all... but then, the Beard believes that the purpose of education should be to teach people stuff... and as we all know, except for a slightly confused couple of decades, the aim of the education system in this country has always been to restrict and regulate social mobility...
Shock! Horror!! Exclamation marks!!! That, I hear you say, is a serious accusation... and so it is, but one that bears thinking about...
Now, how many times have we heard young people complaining about what they learn at school.. when, they ask, will we ever use any of this?? And the answer of course is that they won't... so why learn it?? Well, as the Beard has previously stated, the reason school was set up in such a way was that the system was all about seeing who could memorise lots of information and recall it under pressure, a valuable skill to those who were going to have higher end, non repetitive jobs... and this system was chosen simply to favour the better off...
Simply put, imagine the following... student A has well off parents, who are educated, and have office jobs that allow them time to spend with their child... Student B meanwhile has poor parents who work long hours in a repetitive job, has to work himself in order that the family can pay the rent, and consequently has less leisure time or time with parents than student A... now which of these two is most likely to be able to memorise long strings of information in the first place?? and so, when theexam comes, which will be less stressed, and better able to recall/? And so social mobility is restricted... and all this stems from the belief that those in the higher echelons of society are better and therefore cleverer than the lower classes... and so, when universal schooling looked likely to become a reality, a system was devised to fulfil this prophecy...
Of course, occasionally a bright spark would emerge from low down, and he or she would be encouraged to advance, but only so far.. that way, rebellion was quashed, and the bright poor person was put somewhere where he could be kept an eye on... Which is one reason mine workers, with their love of proper education, were seen as more of a threat than other members of the working class...
The GCSE system, however, at least made a step towards actually educating people... let me ask, because I will anyway, which of these is your idea of a perfect education system... is it testing people incessantly and judging them by the grade they achieve there and then, regardless of any prospect of future improvement, or ist it allowing them to revisit older work, and redo it until they get it right? If you teach someone a practical skill in Scouting, for example tying knots, do we sho them a few times, then when they fail to tie the knot themsleves, call them a failure? Or do we carry on helping them until they are able to tie the knot?? Thought of in this way, surely the method of continuous assessment through coursework is, despite its shortcomings, a better method... unless, of course, you don't want the sstudents to improve??
But I digress... it remains to be seen what the future has in store, and so, until we all learn properly, and until the Emperor realises just what cloth his clothes are cut from, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!
However, two recent articles have caught the hirsute eye of this blogster... and, unrelated as they are, it seems thematic similarities may or indeed may not tie them together...
Of course, contrary to any sense, let alone reason, the allegedly big news this week is that some poor French photographer has managed to take some topless photos of a certain kate Middleton, wife to a possible heir to the possible heir to the throne of this country... and not, as was stated erroneously on the radio today, the wife of the heir to the throne... (for those of you who may be interested, and for the sake of accuracy, the wife to the heir apparent is currently one Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall... and prince William is currently merely heir to the Duchy of Cornwall and to the Principality of Wales...)
But regardless, a lot of fuss is being made of this, and the Beard has to admit that he cannot fathom why... for several reasons... first and foremost, as was so ably stated by one commentator today, if a British magazine managed to get similar shots of the wife of the son of the heir to, for example, the king of Norway, would we feel the same? Of course we wouldn't... but why?? The Duchess of Cambridge is, when you get down to it, no more connected to most of us than said Norwegian... for despite our tabloids telling us that we somehow own our celebs, we don't...
Secondly, it seems to me that the tabloid press is being even more than usually hypocritical in this instance... had these been shots of, say, Victoria Beckham, they'd be all over everywhere... the French, of course, who value celebrity far less, can't see what the fuss is about...
Thirdly, of course, it has to be said that said Kate should really know that the press will be following wherever, and maybe should have thought twice about removing garments where she could be seen from the road.. and I know that it was a long way from the road, but surely most peope nowadays know about telescopic zoom lenses....
Lastly, and most importantly, the reason the Beard feels there is too much being made of it all is that after seeing the pics, the Beard has to say that what she has, is, put bluntly, not really worth seeing... I know we keep getting told about how beautiful she is, but honestly, she's just the latest in a long line of vapid, vague and bland thin women who are, I'm afraid, not actually attractive... although, bucking the trend, I must admit she is better looking than her sister...
Now I'm not saying that Kate is vile, or ugly... she's evidently not... but neither is she either good looking or sexy... and I know it's a crime to say so... but it's true... along with so much of the present day, from music, to art, to literature, beauty is very much a case of the Emperor's new clothes... people are beautiful because we are told they are, and we are told they are because they are rich and famous... it's all about image, shallowness and publicity...
Now, if the beard were any kind of cynic, he would be saying that maybe Kate is, as the tabloids claim, trying to stand in the shoes of the late Diana, Princess of Wales... that is, that she is learning how to manipulate the media and the public, and shamelessly self-publicise... for the Beard can but wonder what the young royals expect to gain from their injunction... the photos will still be published, the press will not change their behaviour, and the royals seriously do not need the money... and if you add in the fact that if they'd stayed quiet the whole thig would have been forgotten about by Thursday, then it just seems to the Beard that the only reason to make a fuss is so that more people know about it...
But I digress... the other thing in the news is, of course, education... and the news that the GCSE system with its course work si to be scrapped... which a lot of people are saying is a good thing... a return to the old system of learning for years followed by an exam must be better.... and being old, the beard must surely agree... or so you say.. but of course, as with most things, the Beard does not agree at all... but then, the Beard believes that the purpose of education should be to teach people stuff... and as we all know, except for a slightly confused couple of decades, the aim of the education system in this country has always been to restrict and regulate social mobility...
Shock! Horror!! Exclamation marks!!! That, I hear you say, is a serious accusation... and so it is, but one that bears thinking about...
Now, how many times have we heard young people complaining about what they learn at school.. when, they ask, will we ever use any of this?? And the answer of course is that they won't... so why learn it?? Well, as the Beard has previously stated, the reason school was set up in such a way was that the system was all about seeing who could memorise lots of information and recall it under pressure, a valuable skill to those who were going to have higher end, non repetitive jobs... and this system was chosen simply to favour the better off...
Simply put, imagine the following... student A has well off parents, who are educated, and have office jobs that allow them time to spend with their child... Student B meanwhile has poor parents who work long hours in a repetitive job, has to work himself in order that the family can pay the rent, and consequently has less leisure time or time with parents than student A... now which of these two is most likely to be able to memorise long strings of information in the first place?? and so, when theexam comes, which will be less stressed, and better able to recall/? And so social mobility is restricted... and all this stems from the belief that those in the higher echelons of society are better and therefore cleverer than the lower classes... and so, when universal schooling looked likely to become a reality, a system was devised to fulfil this prophecy...
Of course, occasionally a bright spark would emerge from low down, and he or she would be encouraged to advance, but only so far.. that way, rebellion was quashed, and the bright poor person was put somewhere where he could be kept an eye on... Which is one reason mine workers, with their love of proper education, were seen as more of a threat than other members of the working class...
The GCSE system, however, at least made a step towards actually educating people... let me ask, because I will anyway, which of these is your idea of a perfect education system... is it testing people incessantly and judging them by the grade they achieve there and then, regardless of any prospect of future improvement, or ist it allowing them to revisit older work, and redo it until they get it right? If you teach someone a practical skill in Scouting, for example tying knots, do we sho them a few times, then when they fail to tie the knot themsleves, call them a failure? Or do we carry on helping them until they are able to tie the knot?? Thought of in this way, surely the method of continuous assessment through coursework is, despite its shortcomings, a better method... unless, of course, you don't want the sstudents to improve??
But I digress... it remains to be seen what the future has in store, and so, until we all learn properly, and until the Emperor realises just what cloth his clothes are cut from, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday 9 September 2012
The Travels of the Beardd... well, some of them...
As strange or not as may seem, although to be honest strange is a word that hints at far more than seeming, especially when used in connexion with the Beard, several months have passed since the hirsute blogster has put virtual ink to screen and posted anything of interest... I know, I know, oh ye regular readers of said blog.... if I'm honest it's probably several years since the beard has had anything interesting to say either on here or elsewhere... but I digress...
So, why the silence, I hear you ask?? Or, to be pedantic, why the absence of words.. for as you have probably realised, Wisebeard!!!! , no matter how many exclamation marks it has, lacks any form of sound save for that which the reader hears in his or her head.. for which I, as always, deny all responsibility....
Well, in order to answer the question, the Beard needs to take you back in time to a rather nice part of his life when he met the young lady destined to be Mrs Beard...As you know, that led to a house move to Solihull, and a one and a quarter hour each-way commute to the wonderland that is Coalville... But over that last few months, due to work developments at the beautiful Mrs Beard's place of employ, the family Beard has downsized, downpriced, and downpillowed, leading to yet another move... this time back to the Beard's homeland, that beautiful area of the East midlands that lies at the borders of Derbyshire, Leicestershire, Staffordshire and Warwickshire... and that, coupled with the house hunting, packing, moving, going on holiday and helping Mrs Beard move into her temporary digs in Bristol, along with trying to get on with wwriting that I actually get paid for or might get paid for, and still working full time,the old Blog has been sadly neglected...
But fear not Beard fans, for the Beard is back... at least, i assume he is.. but I may be wrong...
For those of you who are interested, which i realise is probably a minority of less than one, teh Beard has finally visited France... and a rather nice experience it was... as you all know, the Beard is a great fan of comics, and especially that form known as the Graphic Novel.. and to be quite honest, the french are possibly the greatest proponent of the genre... even more so than the Japanese, the British and the Amercans... so the beard makes no apologies for the time he spent hidden away in a Hypermarket reading Moebius (for those in the know, and for those who don't, the pseudonym of Jean Giraud, possibly the greatest comics artist ever...).... The adventures of Mike Blueberry being among the greatest westerns ever written....
Now the Beard has spoken several times about comics... and makes no bones about his love for the things... to me, a good comic is preferable to a good movie or tv show... and possibly even to a good book... and yet the comic is, even now, seen in this country as some lesser form of story telling... just as animation is seen as the poor relation of live action... but as any artist can tell you, a picture can be worth a thousand words... and comics for many used to be their entry to discovering the pleasure of reading... they are, when done well, like a film in still form... each frame advancing the story through the amalgamation of image and word, just as the cinematograph does... and they are suitable for adults, despite what some may say... adult comics deal with issues that somehow hit harder or become more accessible than if they were in any other form... and adult does not necessarily mean violent or obscene.. take Persepolis, for example.... and yet, comics are also very suitable for kids, being as they are a good halfway house between the childrens picture book (big pictures, few words) and the childrens story book ( smaller pics, lots of words)...
Which is why the Beard was saddened to hear of the demise of the Dandy.... and gladdened by news that it will survive, albeit in digital form... now we can moan all we like about the superiority of the paper comic over it's digital cousin, but like it or not, sales of paper comics are declining... and surely anything that encourages the reading of comics, that beautiful joining of art and literature, is to be applauded... ok, so you can't swap digital comics, you can't easily lend tham to friends, but lets's be honest, that sort of thing only happens rarely anyway... and there will always be paper comics... hopefully these digital ones will lead people to some of the good stuff out there.. hopefully, the modern, digital format will at least stave off the accusation that comics are old hat... but the Beard has always been full of hope...
I will admit that I was neer a big fan of the Dandy... I was more of a 2000AD kid... especially after the demise of Action, possibly the comic that more than any other inspired the more adult, darker, British comics industry that gave us Luthe rArkwright, Watchmen, Judge Dredd and V- for Vendetta.... and with more and more comics on the shelves that seem to consist mainly of a free gift, with one or to simplistic tv based stories and a rubbish quiz, maybe the digital Dandy will show kids taht comics vcan be so much more... so roll on December, and fingers crossed...
But it grows late, my internal spellchecker has decided to give up, and I still haven't told you about the Red-rumped Swallows, the possible Bonelli's and definite Short-toed eagles, Honey Buzzards and other such wonders, let alone the wolves howling in the Pyrennees, and the marvellous wildlife at teh new Beard-house.... but they can wait for another time... it just remains to say that hope springs eternal, and until all our springs gain that eternity, Wisebeard Salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, why the silence, I hear you ask?? Or, to be pedantic, why the absence of words.. for as you have probably realised, Wisebeard!!!! , no matter how many exclamation marks it has, lacks any form of sound save for that which the reader hears in his or her head.. for which I, as always, deny all responsibility....
Well, in order to answer the question, the Beard needs to take you back in time to a rather nice part of his life when he met the young lady destined to be Mrs Beard...As you know, that led to a house move to Solihull, and a one and a quarter hour each-way commute to the wonderland that is Coalville... But over that last few months, due to work developments at the beautiful Mrs Beard's place of employ, the family Beard has downsized, downpriced, and downpillowed, leading to yet another move... this time back to the Beard's homeland, that beautiful area of the East midlands that lies at the borders of Derbyshire, Leicestershire, Staffordshire and Warwickshire... and that, coupled with the house hunting, packing, moving, going on holiday and helping Mrs Beard move into her temporary digs in Bristol, along with trying to get on with wwriting that I actually get paid for or might get paid for, and still working full time,the old Blog has been sadly neglected...
But fear not Beard fans, for the Beard is back... at least, i assume he is.. but I may be wrong...
For those of you who are interested, which i realise is probably a minority of less than one, teh Beard has finally visited France... and a rather nice experience it was... as you all know, the Beard is a great fan of comics, and especially that form known as the Graphic Novel.. and to be quite honest, the french are possibly the greatest proponent of the genre... even more so than the Japanese, the British and the Amercans... so the beard makes no apologies for the time he spent hidden away in a Hypermarket reading Moebius (for those in the know, and for those who don't, the pseudonym of Jean Giraud, possibly the greatest comics artist ever...).... The adventures of Mike Blueberry being among the greatest westerns ever written....
Now the Beard has spoken several times about comics... and makes no bones about his love for the things... to me, a good comic is preferable to a good movie or tv show... and possibly even to a good book... and yet the comic is, even now, seen in this country as some lesser form of story telling... just as animation is seen as the poor relation of live action... but as any artist can tell you, a picture can be worth a thousand words... and comics for many used to be their entry to discovering the pleasure of reading... they are, when done well, like a film in still form... each frame advancing the story through the amalgamation of image and word, just as the cinematograph does... and they are suitable for adults, despite what some may say... adult comics deal with issues that somehow hit harder or become more accessible than if they were in any other form... and adult does not necessarily mean violent or obscene.. take Persepolis, for example.... and yet, comics are also very suitable for kids, being as they are a good halfway house between the childrens picture book (big pictures, few words) and the childrens story book ( smaller pics, lots of words)...
Which is why the Beard was saddened to hear of the demise of the Dandy.... and gladdened by news that it will survive, albeit in digital form... now we can moan all we like about the superiority of the paper comic over it's digital cousin, but like it or not, sales of paper comics are declining... and surely anything that encourages the reading of comics, that beautiful joining of art and literature, is to be applauded... ok, so you can't swap digital comics, you can't easily lend tham to friends, but lets's be honest, that sort of thing only happens rarely anyway... and there will always be paper comics... hopefully these digital ones will lead people to some of the good stuff out there.. hopefully, the modern, digital format will at least stave off the accusation that comics are old hat... but the Beard has always been full of hope...
I will admit that I was neer a big fan of the Dandy... I was more of a 2000AD kid... especially after the demise of Action, possibly the comic that more than any other inspired the more adult, darker, British comics industry that gave us Luthe rArkwright, Watchmen, Judge Dredd and V- for Vendetta.... and with more and more comics on the shelves that seem to consist mainly of a free gift, with one or to simplistic tv based stories and a rubbish quiz, maybe the digital Dandy will show kids taht comics vcan be so much more... so roll on December, and fingers crossed...
But it grows late, my internal spellchecker has decided to give up, and I still haven't told you about the Red-rumped Swallows, the possible Bonelli's and definite Short-toed eagles, Honey Buzzards and other such wonders, let alone the wolves howling in the Pyrennees, and the marvellous wildlife at teh new Beard-house.... but they can wait for another time... it just remains to say that hope springs eternal, and until all our springs gain that eternity, Wisebeard Salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday 7 June 2012
Royalty, poignancy, and racism.....
Now, it may or may not have escaped your notice, but this weekend contained a certain celebration concerning the royal family that we are currently hosting... and while the Beard has never been what you could call or Royalist (despite not being a republican either, he hastens to add...) he does have a certain amount of sympathy for an old woman who has no real choice but to try and look interested as hours and hours of boats pass by in the cold and wet, knowing that at the end of it she also has no choice but to listen to the by-now-superannuated Cliff Richard and (horror of horrors) several screeches from Cheryl Cole... if I'd been her, I'd have faked a bladder infection to get out of it before my Greek husband beat me to it...
But one digresses... The Beard was reintroduced the other day to one of Beard juniors once-favoured tv shows, from his very youth, I hasten to add... i speak of the most poignant childrens animation ever conceived, the heart-breakingly sad "Huxley Pig..."
Now, to the uninitiated of you out there, Huxley Pig and heart-breaking may seem to be unconnected ideas-wise... but the Beard is about to ruin your childhoods (at least possibly) by pointing out to you the finer point of the show, and something that I never realised until a five-year old Beard Junior began to weep on my knee... "why do you weep, oh son of mine?" the Beard did ask, attempting even then to inject an air of pretension into the proceedings... to which the young hirsute one told me that Huxley Pig was "sad..." i the old sense of the word...
Now, the Beard could not, of course, leave this unchallenged, and demanded that the primary school pupil explain himself... after all, i pointed out, in the three episodes we had just watched, Huxley had met a sea Monster, had a day on the beach, and had climbed the Himalayas... "But he hasn't, dad," said the youngster... and he was right...
The poignancy and brilliance of Huley Pig lay in this; the thing that most viewers never realised, or were distracted from by the fun fantasy elements... Huxley was a Pig who had arrived in a small, closed-for-winter seaside town, checked into a bare room in a run down guest house, and stayed there... we were never told where he had come from, and it became obvious that he was not there on holiday... and all he had to his name was "a suitcase full of clothes..." that his Gran gave him, which seemed to contain only dressing up stuff... and, most poignant of all, as pointed out by the son, was this... he never leaves his room... his only friend is a seagull... and he never leaves his room... he has a rich fantasy life, but, and this is very important, HE NEVER LEAVES HIS ROOM! What has gone wrong with his life? After that revelation, neither me nor Beard Junior could watch Huxlety Pig without crying at the futility of his life, and I believe that helped us both over a bit of a dark patch... and even today, I hope and hope that one day Huxley managed to find his own happiness...
But I digress... more important than the poignancy of pigs is the , well, not quite stink but at least slight aroma that has arisen over the plan to send the England Football team to Auschwitz... which even to me seems harsh, though justifiable... but, seriously, the trip seems to have engendered bad feeling over it's publicity-stuntiness... now, like it or not, footballers are role models... not very good ones, admittedly but role models nontheless, and maybe, just maybe this visit may make them better ones... who knows, maybe they can use this to promote the cause of anti-racism... which apparently is the aim... a film is to be made, after all... and as for the worry about whether the WaGs wil somehow desecrate the place... wel, the Beard has it on good authority that a lot of the visitors to said camp of atrocity treat it as a macabre tourist attraction rather than as a shrine or memorial... and to be honest, that is the very nature of things... one friend of the Beard claims to have seen someon eating ice-cream in the gas chambers, but the Beard hopes that such a thing is apocryphal... but regardless of their motives, if this can be turned into a force for good, then the Beard applauds it... but feels that he should mention to footballers, especially the higher paid ones... if you are truly wishing to promote tolerance and get rid of racism, then there is one good way in which you could do it... but you won't like it...
The Beard, you see, would like to ask one of the Premiership teams to take a lead in this... Man U would be a good start, or Arsenal... but whichever, please consider doing this... next time you hear racist chants from the terraces, stop playing and walk off... get changed, and go home... and make it very clear that the reason you are doing this is because you hate racism... if the racist football fans out there see that you treasure tolerance above football, they may think twice, then stop coming to matches and be racist elsewhere... but to the young people who see footballers as inspirational, it may inspire them to take a hard line against racism too... and that could only be a good thing... or so the Beard believes... but please try it... not just once, but consistently... oh, and I know this one will be even harder, but set a good example to the youth when it comes to respect of authority... stop arguing with the ref, and if you get sent off, thank the ref for his time, apologise, and shake his hand... it's amazing how much respect you will receive in return...
But it grows early, and even a Beard must sleep... so, until we all refuse to tolerate intolerance, and we all have the wisdom to fake illness to avoid boring and tedious irrelevances, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But one digresses... The Beard was reintroduced the other day to one of Beard juniors once-favoured tv shows, from his very youth, I hasten to add... i speak of the most poignant childrens animation ever conceived, the heart-breakingly sad "Huxley Pig..."
Now, to the uninitiated of you out there, Huxley Pig and heart-breaking may seem to be unconnected ideas-wise... but the Beard is about to ruin your childhoods (at least possibly) by pointing out to you the finer point of the show, and something that I never realised until a five-year old Beard Junior began to weep on my knee... "why do you weep, oh son of mine?" the Beard did ask, attempting even then to inject an air of pretension into the proceedings... to which the young hirsute one told me that Huxley Pig was "sad..." i the old sense of the word...
Now, the Beard could not, of course, leave this unchallenged, and demanded that the primary school pupil explain himself... after all, i pointed out, in the three episodes we had just watched, Huxley had met a sea Monster, had a day on the beach, and had climbed the Himalayas... "But he hasn't, dad," said the youngster... and he was right...
The poignancy and brilliance of Huley Pig lay in this; the thing that most viewers never realised, or were distracted from by the fun fantasy elements... Huxley was a Pig who had arrived in a small, closed-for-winter seaside town, checked into a bare room in a run down guest house, and stayed there... we were never told where he had come from, and it became obvious that he was not there on holiday... and all he had to his name was "a suitcase full of clothes..." that his Gran gave him, which seemed to contain only dressing up stuff... and, most poignant of all, as pointed out by the son, was this... he never leaves his room... his only friend is a seagull... and he never leaves his room... he has a rich fantasy life, but, and this is very important, HE NEVER LEAVES HIS ROOM! What has gone wrong with his life? After that revelation, neither me nor Beard Junior could watch Huxlety Pig without crying at the futility of his life, and I believe that helped us both over a bit of a dark patch... and even today, I hope and hope that one day Huxley managed to find his own happiness...
But I digress... more important than the poignancy of pigs is the , well, not quite stink but at least slight aroma that has arisen over the plan to send the England Football team to Auschwitz... which even to me seems harsh, though justifiable... but, seriously, the trip seems to have engendered bad feeling over it's publicity-stuntiness... now, like it or not, footballers are role models... not very good ones, admittedly but role models nontheless, and maybe, just maybe this visit may make them better ones... who knows, maybe they can use this to promote the cause of anti-racism... which apparently is the aim... a film is to be made, after all... and as for the worry about whether the WaGs wil somehow desecrate the place... wel, the Beard has it on good authority that a lot of the visitors to said camp of atrocity treat it as a macabre tourist attraction rather than as a shrine or memorial... and to be honest, that is the very nature of things... one friend of the Beard claims to have seen someon eating ice-cream in the gas chambers, but the Beard hopes that such a thing is apocryphal... but regardless of their motives, if this can be turned into a force for good, then the Beard applauds it... but feels that he should mention to footballers, especially the higher paid ones... if you are truly wishing to promote tolerance and get rid of racism, then there is one good way in which you could do it... but you won't like it...
The Beard, you see, would like to ask one of the Premiership teams to take a lead in this... Man U would be a good start, or Arsenal... but whichever, please consider doing this... next time you hear racist chants from the terraces, stop playing and walk off... get changed, and go home... and make it very clear that the reason you are doing this is because you hate racism... if the racist football fans out there see that you treasure tolerance above football, they may think twice, then stop coming to matches and be racist elsewhere... but to the young people who see footballers as inspirational, it may inspire them to take a hard line against racism too... and that could only be a good thing... or so the Beard believes... but please try it... not just once, but consistently... oh, and I know this one will be even harder, but set a good example to the youth when it comes to respect of authority... stop arguing with the ref, and if you get sent off, thank the ref for his time, apologise, and shake his hand... it's amazing how much respect you will receive in return...
But it grows early, and even a Beard must sleep... so, until we all refuse to tolerate intolerance, and we all have the wisdom to fake illness to avoid boring and tedious irrelevances, Wisebeard salutes you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday 20 May 2012
My breaks are broken....
And it came to pass that, after months of diligently putting in paragraph breaks, the great Blogger in the sky has taken them all out of my last post, and no amount of editing will put them back....
So, until the beard figures out how to do the little buggers, please bear with him...
And until my broken breaks are mended, Wisebeard salutes you....!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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About Me
- Kirk Wisebeard
- Well, about me.... in the words of Gag Halfrunt, "Wisebeard's just zis guy, you know.." My official biography reads "Kirk Parsons is." Once i die,which I plan to do at some point in the future, this will become, "Kirk Parsons isn't." But for those who really want to know, the answers are all in here somewhere....
