Assumed Intellect

Creative Language

2011-06-10T07:28:00.000-07:00

So, they are going to fine people for swearing in parts of Australia and in Barnsley town centre.

My anger and disbelief at this idea is extremely difficult to contain. It makes absolutely no sense for a myriad of reasons, but I just have to point out the most obvious.

Language evolves and progresses over years and decades and centuries. What is considered foul language now was not considered foul language 100 years ago. You know, the kids these days are very creative. Did you know what a MILF was a decade ago? Believe it or not, Shakespeare did not pen the line “My companion, on yonder stool is thine finest mater, for she is a MILF and will make my heart take flight”. MILF is an acronym of the highest order, to be commended for its almost onomatopoeic quality. It also contains what is widely regarded as the second worst swear we have. Should it be banned? The offending word itself is not said,but surely it is strongly suggested.

My wife is American and, as such, because of her societal origin, did not believe the words “bastard” or “bollocks” or indeed “fart” to be inappropriate for use in the presence of my parents. My parents are traditional English folk and somewhat disagree.

“Shit” finds its origins in the Old English word scite, meaning dung. If we simply replace the the modern common usage by saying scite, do we still find ourselves £80 worse off? Scite cannot possibly be on the watch list for offensive words, so either a loophole has been found (start studying kids, we have a lot of derivatives research to do), or the town centre wardens will have to be judge and jury on the entirety of history of the English language.

Which brings us to another salient point. What about non-English swear words? My saying merde under my breath when yet again that I am going to hell for being a sinner purely because I am walking past a man with a placard on my way to GAP cannot possibly incur the penalty, can it?

Context is extremely important. List the following in order of offence:

1.I fingered a bird outside the club last night. She couldn't stop screaming.
2.Shit, that was a great goal. He is unbelievable.
3.I would love to stick my massive wang into her swollen vagina.

I know which of those I would consider least offensive for my family to hear on an afternoon out shopping.

And last, but most certainly not least, who has the right to tell us what we can say? It would take another ten pages to explain the list of things I don't want to hear that I find personally offensive, but I never, ever, ever tell people they cannot say them. I would never dream of it. If necessary, engage in a conversation and, yes, even an argument about whether it is appropriate. But it is not the place of government to police words leaving the mouths of autonomous individuals. I would have to publicly flog myself if I used the 'slippery slope' argument because it is bullmerde (pardon my French), but where the restrictions on word usage will end is certainly a consideration.

People of Australia and Barnsley, I stand by you. Mass swear protest outside town hall? Absolutely. I for one cannot wait to see the placards. Contrary to popular belief, people who swear well are some of the most imaginative people I know.

Not My Opinion

2011-04-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

When did this happen? Without warning, I am now the go-to guy for every contentious discussion of which anyone in the office wishes to be a part. Recently, I have started to be hit with one line points of argument which make very little sense when flippantly thrown at me out of context and which make even less sense when given context by the aggressor.

Do you think you're born gay or do you turn gay? What do you make of the 2012 end of the world? Both of these minor issues were thrown at me within the space of three hours last week from co-workers. Now, there are quick answers (“It's not for me to decide” and “It's bullshit”, taken in order), but that wouldn't do the combative nature of the questions any justice. I was asked in earnest to shed light on the subjects at hand. Although, with my reputation for being opinionated, loud and, well, a prick, I think they asked me for entertainment purposes more than anything else, like asking the drunken conspiracy-theory-guy in the pub what really happened to Princess Diana and then standing back to watch the show.

The questions in the office came fully loaded, in that an opinion had already been formed by the questioner. “I just don't see how there is a gene that can make you gay”. “What about that other planet that will throw everything in the universe off?”.

Now, I love debate, and arguing, like a fat kid loves cake. But my side of these discussions was remarkably easy. Too easy in fact. Question: What does the research tell us?

There. Simple.

Now, let's be clear about the difference between listening to an expert and listening to the research. You can find an 'expert' to tell you anything. Hell, you can find an 'expert' who will tell you that it is a biological fact the the brains of black people are smaller than the brains of white people, or that we don't know how magnets work (thank you, Insane Clown Posse). However, listening to the research is something that the interested and impartial scientific community gives as its gift to the world.

Am I smart enough to know through my own endeavour whether being straight or gay is biological, environmental or, like bisexuality, a bit of both? No, of course not. I have neither the time nor the expertise to fully research such a complex subject, containing biological, psychological and sociological aspects. I do know, however, that there are two extreme theories on each end of the spectrum, with a multitude of other theories in between. What I do think is that the scientific community has researched the subject, with hypotheses hypothesised, experiments performed, data collected, conclusions drawn, papers presented and then torn to shreds by a team of peers who would like nothing more than for the person presenting the paper to be made to look as ignorant as a Scientologist, rather than a scientist. The researcher then has to defend their conclusions. Amazing, right?

You throw the majesty of Google into that mix and you remove the need for my opinion on whether the guy in the bar who is really loving the Queen track that just came on the jukebox loves 'We Are The Champions' because it represents a part of him which is as unchangeable as the colour of his eyes, or because his dad didn't pay enough attention to him as a teenager.

Of course, the Mayan calender, end of the world scenario takes significantly less time to discuss. Another planet that the Government is keeping secret? The first time in thousands of years that the entire galaxy will be in the southern region of the Milky Way? Come and ask me again on 22nd December 2012. I'm sure we'll both be around.

Won't you be my neighbour?

2011-02-15T04:22:00.000-08:00

So, paranoid at number 4 tried a new tact, this time complaining that our chickens have trespassed on her property. I looked up over my laptop and through my office window to see a member of Sheffield City Council peering over our fence to examine the chicken's humble abode.

Holy shit.

I hung up the phone to whatever insurance company was busting my arse that day to pop outside and offer a kind word, asking if there was anything I could help him with. Did he want to come over and take a closer look? As it turns out, he was quite a nice fellow and we had quite an amicable chat. There was nothing wrong with owning chickens and ours look perfectly content, he said. The only thing is, would we mind trying to make their area a little more secure by putting some pea-netting over the entrance, just to make double sure? Of course, says I. Anything we can do, we'll take care of.

All the while, number 4 is seething from underneath her black hood, listening to the polite back-and-forth between perfectly friendly adults and hoping that the fine councilman would suddenly stumble across some underage prostitute ring I have been running from our garden shed.

Sorry to disappoint, but they're just chickens. And it's just a front door closing, and the next time you complain it will be something equally minor.

I think the council may now have heard the cry of wolf on too many occasions and next time they'll just let the fucker eat all her sheep.

With all due respect...

2010-10-11T02:17:00.000-07:00

And so the battle between having the greatest, and devoutly Christian, parents in the world and my very strong atheistic beliefs begins. This morning, my daughter told me that the bad people in heaven would like the fact that I have a bad cough.

My initial reaction to this was to find it a genuinely funny thing to say, immediately creating images in my mind of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disney World, with hordes of bad guys drinking flagons of ale and singing songs about my cough and chasing a buxom young wench, all while the village burns.

But then came the realization that this was a seminal moment in Emma's upbringing. Do I completely dismiss the notion of heaven and begin Emma's education in her Father's belief system? Or do I maintain the magical illusion that the people she knows and relies upon for guidance are unified when it comes to such important matters? Her Grandparents are amazing, generous, gracious people, but Daddy doesn't agree with them.

I made the most important point first. Anyone who would laugh at Daddy's cough is not in heaven, they are in hell. Interestingly, my parents had not garnished my 4 year old with any information on hell whatsoever. She's never heard of it. So she has been given details of the good bits with angels and everyone you love being together, but they leave me holding the can on the pitchforks, fire and eternal damnation. Excellent. Thanks.

I then went on to say that Daddy doesn't believe that either heaven or hell exist and so is not particularly worried about being mocked for having a tickley cough by bullies from the afterworld. People believe in many different things and this is where Daddy stands on the matter. It is up to you to make your own mind up.

"My friend was sad once because he thought his Grandma had died and is now on the roof. He doesn't understand heaven either".

God's Harmful Rays.

2010-08-27T07:56:00.000-07:00

Whilst running errands in Sheffield City Centre I was approached by a pleasant enough looking young man who handed me some reading material. I always take leaflets or pamphlets when they are proferred, for two reasons. Firstly, I think turning them down is confrontational and I like an easy life. Secondly, you never know what you might find out and there is no such thing as too much information (unless your best friend is trying to tell you the best way to clean obscure parts of the human body with a moist towelette after running, that is).

What I was handed was a 16 page lesson in how to (or more specifically, how not to) use graphics to illustrate your point, disguised as a guide on how not to go to hell. Now, my writing partner, Chella Quint here, and I know a little something about this, having recently produced a spoof research paper on forming the perfect pub quiz team (search 'The Venns' on Facebook), which includes many illustrations and graphs showing the internal workings of quizzes. Its a tough skill and illustrations (be they pictoral or graphical) should be treated with the utmost respect.

I will say this. This is a hard hitting pamphlet, as far as pamphlets go (man, I love the word 'pamphlet'). On page 5, 'Gospel Tracts International' come right at you with the illustration shown here:

"Your sins have separated you from God." Nice try, but that isn't what this image illustrates. THIS is what this image illustrates:

Surely this graphic is making the point that, when organising a trip to the beach, you should take a big hat, sunscreen and sin. It's the only way to be truly safe this summer.

The None Event

2009-10-02T14:32:00.000-07:00

Okay. Just watched the Derren Brown's Big Event. Just a couple of thoughts. Firstly. Why was the guy selected sweating like he was being filmed all night by a national audience while behaving like it was a surprise? Second, would your bank allow you to withdraw 5 grand without warning?

Too bad. He lost. I'm sure the guy got to keep his 5 grand, but that is a None Event.

Get this child some lavender, NOW!

2009-07-30T04:14:00.000-07:00

While meandering through the lovely district of Holborn, London, I came across the following sign:

Word to the wise. In case of emergency, I beg you to not confuse the two. If your child is suffering from leukemia and you are running late for the latest round of chemotherapy, please, please, please pay full attention. Emergency aromatherapy may make little Johnny more pleasant to sit next to in the car journey home, but it won't help in letting him live long enough to drive you home someday.

Humans 1 - Earth 0

2009-03-20T03:40:00.000-07:00

Last year I took a very pleasant vacation in the south of England with my family. Newquay is a glorious and splendid example of everything that makes England great. Every turn produces another picture-postcard image of idyllic Britain.

It was while visiting the harbour that I made this startling discovery; The human race has completely given up on the environment.

That may sound overly dramatic, but I whole heartedly believe it to be true. Don't get me wrong, I know that there are many, many occupants of the blue planet who fight tooth and nail everyday to protect her and all that share her resources with us, but I'm beginning to think this may be an uphill battle that cannot be won.

While gazing out over the harbour towards the crystal clear Atlantic Ocean on a beautiful morning with my daughter, I noticed a seal swimming next to the fishing boats. This is obviously a regular occurrence and the fishermen seemed all too used to the sight. What was startling and frankly very sad about this scene was that, from a neighbouring boat, four guys in their early twenties were pouring lager onto the seal and into the surrounding water. I have no idea what the aim of this action was. Perhaps they were on a stag party and they had to come up with a drunk seal to dress in their mother's clothing in time for the full event that evening. We've all been there. Perhaps one of the guys had a seal fetish and took a shine to the elegant beast, wanting to take it back to Essex as his aquatic bride. I think fewer of us have been there.

Or perhaps they were just idiots, because it wasn't difficult for them to see the impact of their actions. Floating just ten feet away from their trans-species kegger was the body of a lifeless, bloated seal. I couldn't have juxtaposed it better myself.

The point is this. The guys on that boat had absolutely no thought about the impact this process might have beyond the immediate gratification of seeing a drunk seal (side note - the seal was having none of it. She looked more of a Pinot Grigio type and viewed the common brand lager with obvious disdain). I know that, compared with the CO2 emissions of North America, India and China, this event is just a drop in the ocean*, but it is important from the perspective of how difficult it will be to get civilians to change our behavioural patterns and lessen the impact we have each and every day. What chance do we have of getting the guys in the harbour to walk to work or recycle when they won't even desist from attempting to drag marine life back to their own pre-evolutionary level?

Plus, what a waste of beer.

*pun intended

The Secular Faith

2009-03-20T03:04:00.000-07:00

I am trying to raise my daughter to have faith. Not faith in unproven, existential beings. Not faith that all people are essentially good (I don't believe that to be true and so would have a real problem selling it to Emma as a philosophy). No, I am trying to raise her to have faith that asking questions until you hear an answer that satisfies your curiosity is a worthwhile endeavour. In fact sometimes, asking questions is more important than getting answers. That takes real faith in your convictions.

It is extremely difficult to attempt to instil faith in another living, breathing, pooping human being when the word itself has been commandeered by the non-secular. When I discuss the things I want for my daughter with other friendly, ever so slightly passive- aggressive parents, I am told that developing faith means that I must educate her to believe even without proof and hand over some of my daughter's already well developed sense of inquisition. I don't use the word “poppycock” very often, but that is what that is. What I am trying to nurture is faith in inquisition, faith in method and faith in striving for personal knowledge.

Having lived side-by-side with Evangelical Christianity for the last 30 years, I can say that the belief and behaviour exemplified by the people I know in that community is commendable. I am certainly not anti-religion, but the idea of surrendering Will to a higher power is more than just a little unnerving. Above almost anything else, I would teach Emma to defend her Will vehemently. What I find unsettling is the notion of making a conscious decision to stop asking questions because you are told inversely “not to question faith”. To me, this sounds like a re-hash of the old “because I said so” line of reasoning that proves so popular with parents.

During a bath time this week, I told Emma not to touch the hot water coming out of the tap as it would hurt. Instinctively and, with hindsight obviously, she doesn't take my word for it. She wants to know why Daddy is being so imperious and she wants to know for herself exactly how hot it is. Now, I'm not saying that allowing your offspring to grab the kettle, attempt to iron their face or purposefully trap their hand in the door joint is the way to promote intellectual clarity, but a large part of me is encouraged that she decided to test the water for herself. She had a theory that the water wasn't as hot as Daddy said it was, she developed a method to test that theory, she executed that method and got a conclusive answer (for her post-doctorate she has put forward a theory that hitting Daddy in the testicles with her toy broom doesn't hurt nearly as much as he says it will).

A favourite quote, which I am extremely pleased to crow-bar into this article, is from Albert Einstein, who stated “It's a miracle curiosity survives formal education”. That applies not only to formal schooling, but to all constrained and limited education pathways, be they religious, from the classroom or from derivative parenting learned from Dr Phil or Oprah.

I want to instil in Emma a faith that the fundamental basis of endless questions and limitless answers will one day find a cure for cancer, that the origins of life will discovered and that one day we will discover if the Hokey Pokey is really what it's all about. But none of these things happen purely because she or I have faith that “everything will be okay”. It's because of our faith that people who care will work extremely hard and keep asking extremely difficult questions. I want my daughter to know that, if she has faith in herself and faith in pursuing solutions, she could help make those things happen.

I know that when Emma is 5 I may regret teaching her the value of asking “Why?”. In fact, I've tried to pre-empt that issue by having a house rule that all questions must presented in properly formed sentences. But it would be a much bigger issue in my mind if she didn't ask me anything at all. I have faith that she will keep asking and that I will run out of answers. I just hope then that she will start ask ask someone who knows more than her Father.