Minimal

Read it and... well... sigh, I guess

Although I doubt it will make the slightest bit of difference, the resignation of a US diplomat on the grounds of US foreign policy should at least alert people to the fact that it’s not just foreigners who are worried. Note: registration with the NY Times is required to read the article. Link via v-2.

Read it and weep

Kev of Little Red Book blogs about this upcoming ‘humanitarian’ war and tells it as it is.

JFDI

Think tanks are great, aren’t they? Despite the fact you hear about left- or right-wing think tanks, they almost always come up with ideas and solutions that tackle issues head on and don’t worry about... well... they don’t worry about politics, in the broadest sense.

I guess, however, that can also be part of their downfall. Having the freedom to think about solutions in isolation of other aspects of the real world is great, but no action is ever consequence-free. Bloodying US noses over Middle-East foreign policy might be a noble and just action, but you can bet your ass, the US administration would bully us into backing down, using some form of economic pressure.

Whenever I stop to think about this kind of stuff, it just depresses me. God knows, I have to deal with enough crappy politics at work. I can’t imagine how stressful it must be trying to get stuff done in government. :(

Polishing turds, pt 2

Not so long back, I blogged about the remarkable transformation that Cale Cross House, a tower block next to the Tyne Bridge, was undergoing. I likened the process to the miracle of turd-polishing. Well, shortly after I committed that thought to Blogger’s databases, it seems the city council has followed suit just across the road at the All Saints complex.

The All Saints buildings — Bede House, Aidan House and Cuthbert House — are quite possibly my all-time favourites in the love-to-hate-them, crappy-concrete-carbuncle charts. They’re absolutely hideous creations, with floor upon grim, grey floor of offices jutting out like stacked sidepods bought from some Battlestar Galactica garage sale. (Actually, that makes it sound almost retro-chic, but trust me, it isn’t.)

Imagine my shock, then, when my daily walk past Bede House found me thinking “Hmmmm... that’s a nice change; I wonder what’s going on there.” What I was looking at was actually just a load of scaffolding obscuring the buildings, but it was still a pleasant change. Even more surprising was the fact they actually looked quite good once it had been removed. A quick lick of white paint, and all was well in the world. Gone was the drab grey and the almost complete lack of contrast. In its place was a remarkable, bright office block, whose clean white walls contrasted wonderfully with the dark, cobbled towers at its corners. Next thing you know, they’ll be painting the ceilings in Manors multi-storey car park in pastel shades!

Not in my name

There are times people do things that make me feel deeply ashamed to be British. Step forward, The Sun newspaper. If ever you needed proof that Britain has a xenophobic island mentality, here it is. We really don’t mind shitting on our neighbours.

Haunted by you?

Judging by the searches performed on this site in the last week, I think I’ve got myself a stalker from my school days. The thing is, I’m not sure whether it’s an old mate or an old teacher. Surely not the latter? That would just freak me out. Whoever you are, if you want to get in touch, just send me an email.

And if you’re not sure it’s really me, then yes, I am Mooka. :)

The way you’ll see it

Propaganda can be a shocking thing, but often you only realise long after you were taken in by it. Today’s G2 section of the Guardian contained a series of news stories and photographs we missed out on from the first Gulf War. It’s the kind of thing that makes you think “This should be compulsory reading for Americans and Brits alike”. Therefore, here’s the full list of articles it contained, though sadly you don’t get the pictures online:

• This is war
• “The most pitiful sight I have ever seen”
• “You are the Goebbels of Saddam’s regime”
• A cold coming
• “What I saw was a bunch of filled-in trenches with people’s arms and legs sticking out of them. For all I know, we could have killed thousands”

I’ll admit I’ve not read all of the articles yet, but I’ve read enough to make me feel bad about not going to the anti-war rally in London tomorrow. Thankfully, I expect there’ll be plenty more people more organised and committed than me showing up.

Modern life art is rubbish

Spotted in today’s Metro (Newcastle edition), I just had to copy this word for word:

Currying favour
An artist due to earn £12,000 for kicking an empty take-away curry box down a street has cancelled his show — because too many people wanted to see it. Andre Stitt, 44, had hoped his performance in Bedford would “focus on oppression, isolation and the experience of alienation”.

Good grief. What a chuffing charlatan. I’d do it for half that price. ;)

Seventy up

Bobby Robson talks to the Guardian about his impending 70th birthday and the ambitions he has yet to fulfil. It may a little sugar-coated, but for a Newcastle fan — for any football fan, I suspect — the article is a wonderful read. Plenty of Bobby, plenty of passion, plenty to look forward to.

Of course, it’s the kiss of death for our title prospects, but we’re used to that. ;)

Columbia

Space shuttle Columbia disintegrates on re-entry — seven dead. Sends a shiver down your spine, doesn’t it? :( Exactly as the Challenger incident did when I was a kid, in fact. Exactly the same.

It’s odd — there are so many things happening in this world that involve far higher death tolls and yet something like this can catch the attention so much more. Maybe it’s the loss (even if a temporary one) of a shared dream. Maybe the realisation of man’s fallability is more intense when one of our greatest achievements is made to look like so little. Maybe it’s the unjust death of those who were working for all our futures.

Or maybe it’s simply because it’s so rare. Senses dulled to the near-daily reminders of war, famine and mass-murder are pricked by something so unusual that it reminds us what it’s like to feel shock. Whatever it is that makes me so numb, I can’t deny the scale of its effects.