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.
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I am not the shockable type but this preamble to an article singing the praises of the tv hit, 24, had a pretty bracing effect on yours truly:
Fox’s hit drama normalizes torture, magnifies terror, and leaves conservatives asking why George W. Bush can’t be more like 24’s hero.
To use the word “normalise” next to the word “torture” is extraordinary. Maybe 24 does raise the issue of using torture as a desperate but necessary act, but I hardly imagine that the viewer is left thinking that there is anything “normal” about it, like brewing a cup of tea in the morning for breakfast or taking out the garbage. From what I recall, torture is seen as shocking, and rightfully so. Think also of the scene in Dirty Harry when Clint shoots and then beats up the psycho. You “know”, unlike in real life, that the baddie is a baddie and hence do not feel bad when he gets the Eastwood treatment. Real life is different, which is why we have pesky laws like no jail without trial, etc.
For what it is worth I enjoy 24. I have no idea what the programme-makers would think of their programme being thus described by the American Conservative.
For a brilliant demolition of those who use the “ticking bomb” scenario in movies and books to rationalise torture, this by Jim Henley is a must-read.
(Update: I should in fairness point out that the American Conservative article makes it pretty clear that it loathes the show, although the way in which the introductory paragraph is written sucks the reader into thinking that conservatives support the practice. I guess I fired off my angry post a bit too quick. That said, it does appear that some of the “appeal” of the show is in how it unashamedly portrays the use of torture. Remind me not to ever watch this show again).
People will bet on anything these days.
You give me all your love You give me all your kisses And then you touch my burqua And do not know who is it!
Heh. Who says the Germans have no sense of humour?
(h/t: Nick M.)
Classical music blogger Jessica Duchen yesterday featured a bit of video/audio of the great Grigory Sokolov playing the wonderfully manic third and last movement of Prokofiev’s Seventh Piano Sonata, which is marked Precipitato. I have a DVD of Sokolov playing this, plus some Beethoven, and I assume this clip is from that. (The Beethoven on that DVD is also marvelous. I’ve never heard the somewhat poor relation Op. 14 numbers 1 and 2 sonatas sound better. Or, maybe I’ve just never listened properly before, and this DVD of Big Bear Sokolov finally got me doing that. Don’t know, don’t care.)
To succeed, music has to have at least one of: melody, harmony and rhythm. Too much twentieth century classical type music scores zero out of three, and hence will never be widely liked. This Prokofiev movement scores a thunderously successful ten out of ten (to switch marking systems) in the rhythm department, and does pretty well on the other two as well, I think. (Which, come to think of it, is a description that applies pretty well to Prokofiev’s entire output.) Do have a listen/look if you’ve not heard this piece and enjoy white hot piano playing. It is about four minutes long, with lots of understandably noisy clapping at the end that you can ignore.
It helps that this is the kind of music that, I think, easily survives cheap computer-type speakers.
“…and the nominees in the category of Best Fashionable Issue in a Guilt-Supporting Role are….(pause)…World Poverty (applause)…AIDS (applause)…the Iraq War (bigger applause)…Africa (applause)…and Saving the Planet (huge applause).
And the winner is…..(rustle, rustle, rustle)…Saving the Planet!! (more huge applause, whoops, whistles).
Sadly, the Planet can’t actually be with us tonight because its currently on location shooting another movie with Al Gore. But it is going to speak to us now by live satellite link.”
PLANET: (by satellite feed) Oh…oh…this is just so…I don’t know. What can I say? I’m overwhelmed, you know. I mean, I’m up there with World Poverty and AIDS, I mean, WOW, what competition!! I’m just….I don’t know, let me tell you that I am one thrilled, happy, proud biosphere right now. But, you know, this Award isn’t for me. It’s an Award for all the brilliant people who made it possible to save me, all those NGOs and…especially Al Gore…and let me tell you, I am so in awe of that man. I am totally, unbelievably excited to be working with him again. He is my saviour. Absolutely, you know. And I’m accepting this for him as well. What else can I say? I need a drink. Somebody get me a drink (burst of laughter, close up of Jack Nicholson busting a gut). But, seriously, I really want to thank the Academy and I also want to thank my agent, Murray Felberman….I love you, Murray, I love you man. So, I got to get back to work now but I just want to say that I love you all and when I get back to LA we’re going to have a big party (blows kiss).
And about time too:
One of the world’s most popular operas opens in Covent Garden today amid fresh claims of racism, colonial misadventure and outmoded, “sordid” morals…
Professor Roger Parker, a teacher of music at King’s College London and a Puccini specialist, suggested that opera audiences could be unwitting participants in racism because of the stereotypes Madama Butterfly contains.
He said: “An authentic production [of the opera] is a racist production. It has a lot of ideas within it that would be seen in any other circumstances as racist. It is not just a question of the words, it also Puccini’s music.”
“We have become much more sensitive [about racism] and the interpretation of Madama Butterfly is one of those operas that needs to reflect that.
Quite right, I say. This insenstive cultural anachronism is completely outmoded and needs to be consigned to the dustbin of history. In fact, I have taken the liberty of writing a short synopsis of a new, modernised version of the Puccini opera which will more accurately reflect the values of a modern-day audience. → Continue reading: Lepidoptera Grrrl
I love the BBC TV programme Top Gear but even great men have their weaknesses. Jeremy Clarkson takes the ‘Borat’ route by making fun of folk in America’s Deep South. How jolly original of you, Jeremy. Is not the whole “These guys from the South are thick, whisky-swilling in-breds with mullet haircuts and guns” a bit tired?
Oh well, even the good guys have their off-days (thanks to Andrew for the link). Clarkson should stick to driving insanely quick Bugattis and cheering us all up.
“I always felt this country was going down the tubes when the television folk replaced Basil Brush with Roland Rat.”
My dad, with his finger on the pulse as usual. Here is a tribute page to television’s most superior fox.
Yesterday, I attended a most enjoyable Sunday lunch, with an old school friend and his wife . It began at a civilised time, 2pm, which enabled me, before departing, to hear the winner of CD Review’s pick of the best available recording of Haydn’s Symphony No. 88 on Radio 3. This delightfully sunny piece is one of my favouries, and Colin Davis and the Concertgebouw played it wonderfully. As I walked across the Thames to Vauxhall Station I took photos, in the perfect early February yet spring-like weather. The train I travelled on arrived at Vauxhall exactly when I reached the platform it stopped at, and was agreeably uncrowded. The walk from Wimbledon Station to my friend’s home was most pleasant. So I was in a good mood when I got there, and nothing happened from then on to spoil my enjoyment in any way.
Anyway. One of those present was a rather rich man, and I now know how you can tell a rich man. Ask him how many houses he owns. He hesitates, and then he starts counting on his fingers.
“The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder”.
– Alfred Hitchcock, who was always a practical fellow.
On a Sunday afternoon, when recovering from a close friend’s birthday the previous evening – in the Dover Street wine bar – god help my liver and I – there is no better way to resume some semblance of humanity than to listen to this woman. I first chanced upon one of Diana Krall’s CDs about a decade ago and she has held a firm place in my music-playing selection ever since. Her version of “Face the Music and Dance” was my choice of first musical piece at my wedding last year, taken from this CD.
Norah Jones is great, Peggy Lee was wonderful and Ella Fitzgerald could charm the birds off the trees, but Krall is as good as any of them – not to mention rather easy on the eye – and hopefully will be around for a long time yet. No wonder Clint Eastwood went nuts when he saw her playing in a local Carmel bar before she became a megastar.
My hangover is fading already.
The other night I glanced at the television to see an advertisement for a smooth-looking new car by Hyundai. All very clever with a sort of liquid metal effect – due to the wonders of computer generated technology – but absolutely nothing at all about the car. There was no description of how fast the car could go, what sort of gearbox it had, how many seats, how much it costs, what its fuel consumption is. Nothing. It was about as informative as watching a North Korean press release.
The reason, I think, why modern car advertisements are like this is because of a campaign by the UK authorities, with bodies like the Advertising Standards Authority, to remove all reference to the idea that a car is desirable because it goes fast. One must not offend against the Gods of Health and Safety by implying, stating or otherwise celebrating that this or that set of wheels goes like a rocket. No sir. One must not lead the gullible British public into the sin of speeding and other naughtinesses. What we therefore have are adverts that are self-indulgent eye candy, of no more import than a nice piece of modernist artwork. Here is an example of what I mean.
It is, I suppose, a reflection of the society in which we live that advertisements, like old Tom and Jerry cartoons, get bowdlerised or otherwise influenced by the desire to remove all risk from life. But life is not free from risk, and risk is actually one of the ways that you know that you are alive rather than dead.
On a brighter note, Richard Hammond, “The Hamster” as he is known to his Top Gear TV colleagues, is back to the screens this Sunday after recovering from a stunt that went badly wrong. What I continue to love about that show is that you know, you just know, that the serried ranks of the do-gooder classes cannot abide this programme.
Go Hamster!
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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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