We are developing the social individualist meta-context for the future. From the very serious to the extremely frivolous... lets see what is on the mind of the Samizdata people.
Samizdata, derived from Samizdat /n. - a system of clandestine publication of banned literature in the USSR [Russ.,= self-publishing house]
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A change is as good as a rest, they say, and since I have made something of a custom of reporting and commenting upon all the gloomy news emanating from and occuring in this country, I can enjoy a brief rest and kindle a flickering light amidst the miasma of despair.
It gives me no small amount of pride to note that the British still possess a spark of creativity sufficient to produce interesting developments like this:
“An innovative radio that lets you listen to internet stations anywhere in the home has been showcased at the world’s largest consumer technology event in Las Vegas.
The GlobalTuner InTune200 is a small portable radio that connects to a computer wirelessly, providing access to any music on the PC or to thousands of internet radio stations.
PDT, the Manchester-based company that developed the portable player, says it could be just the thing to persuade more people to sign up for high-speed internet services.”
I love technological advances for their own sake but this one strikes me as having some potentially important consequences. We all know how libertarian and conservative views, having been squeezed out of the mainstream media, have flowered on the internet, to the extent that some even argue that they dominate the medium. Well, I can neither prove nor entirely dismiss that assertion but I am willing to stand by the claim that the ‘anti-idiotarian’ internet-bloc is both vast and growing.
With that in mind, the next logical development, as best I can see, is for a number of these voices to move up to internet radio. Indeed, I note with delight that some already have. How auspicious that, just as a tactical move from typing to talking may be afoot, along comes a consumer durable product that will enable internet radio to explode the way analogue broadcast radio did a century ago.
I wonder what music we shall play on Radio Samizdata?
I read an article a few weeks back, in the Guardian I believe, which consisted of a lament about the lack of originality or creativity in British TV comedy production these days. I cannot remember exactly who or what the writer felt was to blame for this state of affairs (America, probably) but I have my own theory. I believe that no comedy writer in Britain could possibly produce anything as farcical as real-life:
“Former Scotland footballer Duncan Ferguson is being investigated by police over allegations he assaulted a man burgling his home on Merseyside.”
It wouldn’t surprise me if every burglar, mugger and bag-snatch in this country is going to routinely claim to have been assaulted, confident in the knowledge that their claims will be taken seriously. Burglars are rapidly becoming a ‘victim’ class.
“However, the criminal has accused the 6ft 4in former Rangers player of assaulting him during the confrontation.
Merseyside Police are investigating the allegation and officers will speak to Ferguson in the near future.”
Even assuming the allegation proves to be true, I doubt that Mr.Ferguson will actually be prosecuted. At least, I sincerely hope not. But, what are the odds on the burglar making a claim for damages for alleged breach of his Heeeeeeewwwmin Rights?
For the first time in a long while I am prepared, temporarily at least, to suspend my animus towards the BBC. When they are prepared to publish an article called ‘Why Britain needs more guns’ by the outstanding Joyce Lee Malcolm then they have earned a respite from my relentless hostility. Nay, they may even by the worthy recipients of a nod of appreciation.
“The price of British government insistence upon a monopoly of force comes at a high social cost.
First, it is unrealistic. No police force, however large, can protect everyone. Further, hundreds of thousands of police hours are spent monitoring firearms restrictions, rather than patrolling the streets. And changes in the law of self-defence have left ordinary people at the mercy of thugs.”
Amen to that. Testify, Sister Joyce!!
And, yes, it is on the BBC website. No word of a lie. Go and check the link yourself if you don’t believe me. Yes, you could have knocked me down with a feather as well.
Since they have invited comments from their readers this will give ample opportunity for the British ones to rant, scream, pull out their hair, void their bowels and otherwise hissy-fit themselves into a cocked hat. But that doesn’t matter because the truth has been spoken and it’s out there in black-and-white for every anti-self-defence nut to see and try, in vain, to rebut.
This is a good start. In fact, and I don’t want to runoff at the mouth here or jump the gun (pun gleefully intended) but I do believe that we could be getting just a little bit of traction with this issue. About bloody time, too.
Five police officers have been stabbed, one fatally, during a raid on an apartment in Manchester:
“The operation was linked to the discovery of the deadly poison ricin in a north London flat last week and to the Metropolitan Police anti-terrorism operation, police have confirmed.”
‘Linked’ in which way? Sadly there is not enough information here to fill the back of a postage stamp. Probably with good reason.
I wonder how deep this rabbit hole goes?
One of the advantages of giving up smoking (10 days now, folks) is that you can defend the rights of other smokers from a higher strategic ground; nobody can accuse you of having a personal axe to grind.
But not having an axe leaves me with a free hand with which to take up cudgels against busybodies and their campaigns for increased state bullying:
“The survey was carried out on behalf of Cancer Research UK, Marie Curie Cancer Care, QUIT, ASH and No Smoking Day.
Officials said they hoped the survey would encourage ministers to take steps to ban smoking at work.”
My own view is that it is up to the owners of the business to decide upon the issue of smoking on the premises and what I find grating is not that these organisations disagree with me or even that they publicise their views on the matter. No, what I find questionable if whether ‘charities’ should be engaging in these kinds of campaigns.
Incidences of charities behaving as political lobbyists are far too frequent to be dismissed as symptoms of altruistic exuberance. In fact, whilst this is probably not true in the case of organisations like Cancer Research UK or Marie Curie, one could be forgiven for suspecting that the label ‘charity’ is, in some cases, used as a fig-leaf to mask a wholly political ambition. It provides an automatic authentication for the views they express and an insulation against criticism of either their opinions or motives.
I wish to make it clear that I am not against charities. In fact, I am very much in favour of charities as voluntary organisations which can and do provide real help to the distressed and the weak with far greater efficiency and humanity that any number of indifferent state bureaucracies. But I do think that the parameters of ‘charitable status’ are overdue for some scrutiny. Organisations that confine their activities to distributing hot soup to the destitute or arranging day-trips for orphans deserve the title and the advantages it brings. Organisations which exist merey to egg on Big Brother and advance an ideological agenda are lobbyists and should be treated as such.
I honestly fail to understand all the fuss over the Judicial decision not to incarcerate burglars. It is perfectly understandable in light of the fact that, in London, the burglars are not even going to be apprehended in the first place.
Burglaries in London are only going to be investigated if the crime is “deemed solvable”, according to new guidelines for the Metropolitan Police.
What they mean by ‘deemed solvable’ is if the investigating officer actually finds the felon climbing out of a householders window wearing a zorro-mask and holding a bag marked ‘swag’. Short of that, they can’t be bothered. A complaint to the police from a householder that a burglar has assaulted them may stir the sediment in their feet and, naturally, they will still whip themselves instantaneously into a frenzy of righteous froth should a burglar ever complain that a householder has assaulted him. After all we can’t have people getting away with that sort of thing, can we.
However, mass voluntary redundancy is not on the agenda just yet:
Crimes which will be given priority must come under four categories: serious crimes like murder and rape, major incidents, hate crime and incidents that are the priority of a particular borough.
‘Priority of a particular borough’ and ‘hate crimes’ are largely synonymous and is likely to lead to victims of burglary or theft fabricating an element of racist abuse in order to get their complaints taken seriously. Thus the incidence of ‘hate crime’ will dramatically rocket and prompt politicians to hastily enact even more anti-hate legislation.
Also, I wonder how long it will be until ‘low-profile’ (i.e. non-politically sensitive) murders and rapes are quietly dropped from the agenda?
Hopefully though, some sections of the public wll begin to appreciate that the police, like all other nationalised industries, are indifferent to their customers. Equally, they may begin to re-evaluate the assumed social contract which the state is now unilaterally shredding.
In the long term, this may be good news. Though not such good news, I fear, in the short term.
Following last week’s ricin incident it seems that the British authorities have decided to come clean with the public:
“British ministers have been warned by their security advisers that a west European city is “likely” to be the target of a terrorist attack using a chemical or other non-conventional weapon in the short-to-medium term.
They have also warned that they cannot be sure they know the identity of more than 50 per cent of people in the UK who might carry out a terrorist attack on behalf of al-Qaeda.”
Just how long, I wonder, is that ‘short-to-medium’ term? And just how many is ’50 per cent’? Is that two people or ten thousand people? Any clue?
Is this true and we’re being softened up to endure the worst or is it hogwash because the authorities have a fairly good idea who these people are but don’t want to let on that they know? Beats me.
I will say, however, that if the claim in the second paragraph turns out to be correct then, leaving aside the possible ghastly consequences for a moment, it really does illustrate the extent to which the British internal security apparatus has been woefully misdirected these last few years.
We live in a country with more CCTV cameras per square mile than any other country on earth, our police and customs officials have surveillance and information gathering powers that the KGB would envy and, because of Money Laundering Regulations, it is almost impossible to function in our society without having to prove identity. If I failed to send in my VAT Form at the end of this month, the state will be all over me like bluebottles on a dog-turd. Yet we could, conceivably, be playing host to scores or maybe even hundreds of potential mass-murdering terrorists and the response of the security services is to shrug and say ‘sorry, guv, haven’t got the foggiest’.
Any chance of a re-assessment of priorities in future?
I have now been a non-smoker for seven days. A week. Nearly a fiftieth of a year! It is my sad duty to report that I don’t feel any better for having quit. In fact, I feel worse.
The cravings, though fewer and less severe, still lap tauntingly at my nervous system. It’s like having an itch between the shoulder blades. My temper is, shall we say, far from even. I no longer have anything resembling a sleep pattern. Oh I do sleep. At least, I think I sleep. I find myself standing in the bathroom, scratching my arse, yawning and wondering what happened to the last seven hours. That’s sleep, isn’t it? I hope so.
I no longer eat, I graze. Strange hungers afflict me at unorthodox hours. Oh Lord, why don’t cheeseburgers come in packs of twenty? I am accumulating fat like a bear preparing to hibernate.
The mood swings are the worst. Last night the BBC Weather reported roads blocked by snow in the West Midlands. I was on the verge of tears. Euphoria to desolation in the space of half-an-hour is about the norm.
People say stupid things when you’re trying to quit smoking. ‘Hey, David, it’s all in your mind’. ‘No kidding??!! And there was me thinking it was all in my foot. Of course, it’s all in my f*cking mind, you stupid c*nt. If it was all in my computer’s hard-drive I could just delete it and have done with.’
Testy. Did I mention that I was a little testy? Well, I’m a little testy.
When Oxford-based poet and professional bore Tom Paulin advocated the shooting of West Bank Jewish settlers he probably expected nothing more than the appreciative plaudits of his academic colleagues. But I daresay he had not even heard of the blogosphere. If he had, he might have kept his mouth shut. As it is, he was catapulted overnight from obscurity to ‘Global Moron’ status and assigned a transatlantic reputation as a virulent anti-semite. Paulin got a maulin’
Personally, I don’t think Mr.Paulin is an anti-semite. More likely he was caught up in the wave of anti-Israel sentiment that has swept right through the academic and media classes; a sort of fashion-induced rush of blood to the head. However, the details barely seem to matter now because, judging from his response in the Guardian the whole affair has unhinged him:
“The first answer is Beckett’s
in another context – to “Mr Beckett
they say that you are English?”
he answered “au contraire”
– he didn’t say “I am not dot dot”
which plays their game
– in this case the ones who play the a-s card –
of death threats hate mail talking tough
the usual cynical Goebbels stuff
so I say the same
and say that peace it must be talked
re Palestine and re Iraq
– Israel has got the bomb
but that’s not why
no one in their right mind
says Israel should be swept into the sea…”
Hey daddy-o it’s, like, so far-out, man. In fact, it’s so far-out I can’t see it. I can, though, imagine one of the Guardian’s editor’s accompanying him on the bongos while he read it.
I think I shall compose a response in similar poetic vain. Ahem…(clears throat):
“First Michael Moore,
Now Tom Paulin,
One by one,
The idiots are fallin’.
Thank you. Thank you.
How fortunate we are to be British. Just how may we count our blessings? While other nations are wracked with chaos and their peoples suffer the vicissitudes of lawlessness and anarchy, we blessed citizens of this Sceptered Isle can enjoy our peaceful lives knowing with cast-iron certainty that our brave and determined public officials are working night and day to ensure that we live in comfort and security.
Ever-vigilant, there is no threat to our national fabric on which they will not pounce:
“Two children in Lancashire have been told they need planning permission for a playhouse they have erected in their garden.
Hours after the wooden house was erected, planning officers told them it would have to be taken down if the permission is not secured.”
Did these miscreants honestly believe that they were going to get away with this? Did they imagine that their flagrant disregard for order was going to be tolerated? Did they think, for even a second, that such delinquent behaviour would not be noticed by our eagle-eyed and steely-nerved planning officers?
“However, the council said the wendy house, which is on the side of the family home, is an “unauthorised development”.
“As the wendy house borders a highway, the law states that planning permission is required,” a spokesman said.”
There is no need to thank our faithful council officers. As they would be the first to point out, they are only doing their jobs. But let us spare a moment in any event, to savour the gratitude they have so selflessly earned with their sterling defence of our way of life.
“Eight-year-old Ben and his sister Katie, six, are said to be devastated that their playhouse, given to them as an early Christmas present, may be moved.”
How sad that criminality should afflict those so young. But tenderness of age should not deflect the righteous wrath held ever-ready to be visited upon those guilty of trying to sabotage our placid and convivial society. Who knows if this allegedly harmless toy was not, in reality, to be used as a stash of illegal weapons? Does anyone need to be reminded of the well-established ‘link’ between wooden playhouses and international terrorism?
But let us not dwell on the morbid consequences of this kind of wild insurrection. Let us, instead, pay a simple homage to our fearless public officials who have saved us, yet again, from civilisational catastrophe. We may now all sleep safely, in the prescribed manner, in our properly regulated beds.
I have been asked on more than one occasion why I smoke cigarettes. The answer is all too simple. I smoke cigarettes because I enjoy smoking. No, I love smoking. I love the film-noiresque pose of cupping my hand around a lighter in a breezy street; I love the silky rolling comfort of the little cylinder between my fingers; I love the draw of tangy, rasping smoke into my lungs.
Let’s face it, smoking is sexy. The effortless self-assurance required to exude sex-appeal is precisely the quality required to look good with a cigarette. Healthy food is not, and will never be, sexy. Working out is not sexy either, regardless of the number of leotard-clad catalogue models prancing around aerobically to 80’s disco beats.
Smoking is sexy despite being dangerous. In fact, it is all the more arousing because it is dangerous. It is a daring and insouciant accomodation with a prowling, patient, predatory beast. For those of us who will never know the adrenalin rush of sitting in the cockpit of a Tornado or an F-15, smoking is a defiant dalliance with death.
For me, cigarettes are like a mad, unpredictable and fatally attractive mistress. Even though I know her wild behaviour, her endless painful taunts and unreasonable demands are both eroding my life-force and gouging out my bank account, I love her desperately and irrationally. And for all that she hurts me, I must have her in my life.
Until now, that is. Because I am in the process of ending this corrosive love-affair. Why? Because although I believe that the risks of smoking have been exaggerated for political reasons, even I can no longer ignore the symptoms of the harm being done to my respiratory system. Wheezing after climbing a flight of stairs is one thing but combine that with the trademark hacking, staccato cough I have now developed and that’s enough to set alarm bells ringing. I fear that if I do not end this relationship soon, then my mistress will do me some harm from which I will not have the option of being able to walk away.
So, as I type these words, it is now two-and-a-half days since I stubbed out what I hope will prove to be my last pleasure stick. Despite the nicotine patch on my arm, I am fighting the tickling, torturous craving that sweeps over me in savage, but mercifully brief, waves. Whenever they come they are accompanied by the roaring sound of my mistress banging frantically on my front door demanding to know why I have suddenly stopped returning her calls. Given time, she will tire, get the message and leave me alone. By my reckoning, after four days of this hell, things will get easier.
By this time next week, I hope I will have completely de-coupled myself from this harridan and although I know I will be a better man for being free of her tyrrany, I also know with doleful certainty that I will miss her forever.
I was struck by two contrasting emotions upon reading this editorial in the Telegraph. First, pleasant surprise that views of such obvious common sense have found their expression in a major British news organ but, secondly, dismay that this fact should come as a pleasant surprise at all.
“Since the Government’s “total ban” five years ago, there are more and more guns being used by more and more criminals in more and more crimes. Now, in the wake of Birmingham’s New Year bloodbath, there are calls for the total ban to be made even more total: if the gangs refuse to obey the existing laws, we’ll just pass more laws for them not to obey. According to a UN survey from last month, England and Wales now have the highest crime rate of the world’s 20 leading nations. One can query the methodology of the survey while still recognising the peculiar genius by which British crime policy has wound up with every indicator going haywire – draconian gun control plus vastly increased gun violence plus stratospheric property crime.”
For those of us who knew only too well that this was going to be the result of the absurd and destructive war on self-defence there is a certain amount of satisfaction to be had from having been proved right. But, equally, a mounting despair at the seemingly wilful refusal of most Britons to learn from, or even acknowledge, the evidence that is staring them smack, bang in the face.
Even now, the straightforward truths expressed in this leader would be totally absent from the thoughts of any British journalist and even if that were not so, I suspect none would dare put them into print. We have Mark Steyn to thank for this serice.
“After Dunblane, the police and politicians lapsed into their default position: it’s your fault. We couldn’t do anything about him, so we’ll do something about you. You had your mobile nicked? You must be mad taking it out. Why not just keep it inside nice and safe on the telephone table? Had your car radio pinched? You shouldn’t have left it in the car. House burgled? You should have had laser alarms and window bars installed. You did have laser alarms and window bars but they waited till you were home, kicked the door in and beat you up? You should have an armour-plated door and digital retinal-scan technology. It’s your fault, always. The monumentally useless British police, with greater manpower per capita on higher rates of pay and with far more lavish resources than the Americans, haven’t had an original idea in decades, so they cling ever more fiercely to their core ideology: the best way to deal with criminals is to impose ever greater restrictions and inconveniences on the law-abiding.”
It may seem bizarre these days, but I grew up believing and parrotting the lockstep axiom that the British police ‘are the best in the world’. It is an assertion that may appear obnoxiously arrogant but, considering how things used to be, may be understandable. There was a time when the British police were charged with enforcing laws that were, for the most part, sensible and it was a task to which they devoted their energies with commendable vigour all whilst remaining routinely unarmed and fostering a public perception that they were both honourable and decent. → Continue reading: The sleep of reason
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Who Are We? The Samizdata people are a bunch of sinister and heavily armed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the values of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many crimes is a sense of humour and the intermittent use of British spelling.
We are also a varied group made up of social individualists, classical liberals, whigs, libertarians, extropians, futurists, ‘Porcupines’, Karl Popper fetishists, recovering neo-conservatives, crazed Ayn Rand worshipers, over-caffeinated Virginia Postrel devotees, witty Frédéric Bastiat wannabes, cypherpunks, minarchists, kritarchists and wild-eyed anarcho-capitalists from Britain, North America, Australia and Europe.
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