07 August 2016
Words used to have meaning, used not to be mere scribbles on paper or sounds made to satisfy popular demand.
Take ‘hero’. A hero to me is someone who battles near-impossible odds to save a life, or works for a lifetime against near-impossible odds to change lives. A hero is emphatically NOT someone who kicks a ball for a few minutes each week or runs/swims/cavorts quite fast/energetically - or does both - whilst being paid an entertainer’s wage. Real heroes do it because it’s there, because it must be done, not for the rewards.
For some the distinction between the modern and classical versions of the term is unimportant. And that’s a shame.
‘Truth’ used to be something incontrovertible, sustained by peer or objective review, unassailable. Nowadays it’s whatever some politician says - or believes they can get away with saying. And they do. Get away with it. No amount of fact-checking can overcome a recognisable face on the TV or in a favourite newspaper.
Wholesale use of hyperbole is peaking, we can see it all around. There will come a time when even the most hardened Sun or New York Post journalist at least considers giving up.
At least I hope so. I really don’t like this erosion of meaning. What’s next though?
To be sure, languages must evolve, take at least that for granted. In a lot of cases it’s necessary as technology or social change mandates the reduction of complex phrases in favour of a jargon adopted by the general public. In some cases it’s the adoption of trivial, inconsequential, transient words emerging from social media. In others it’s borrowing of foreign words used regularly by a sizeable proportion of those who speak whatever language is evolving. It seems to me though that dictionary committees are spending more time courting the press than accurately following trends.
Trust and tradition, both are being eroded at rates faster than previously seen. ‘Trust’ in an age during which words lose their meaning is a bit of a misnomer. There are a very very small number of people and organisations I can trust without thought. And the list diminishes with time.
Yes of course all ‘traditions’ aren’t necessarily good. Hunting foxes, chasing cheese down hills, Morris Dancing, you know…
Well there’s a phrase: ‘Less is more.’ What a load of crap! Someone influential should redo it to be a true reflection of our times: ‘More is less’.
Hah! There’s a gap in the market; I should apply for a part-time job as a writer, opining from the perspective of a grumpy old bast…
As traditions, trust, language all degenerate where can we find solace in these uncertain times?
Reverting back to one of the biggest comforts of the modern age, at least the sporting world provides some useful distractions: for instance the Olympics (hashtags) and football (obscene spending.)
Reading the news earlier I came across a couple of rage-inducing sentences:
Grabbing a couple of sentences from the article: “Manchester United are on the brink of re-signing Paul Pogba from Juventus in a world record £89m deal. United will pay 105m euros for Pogba and performance-related bonuses and other costs could see that figure rise.”
And that’s a lot of money - some would say ‘obscene’ - for an as-yet unproven talent. It’s a fifth of a hospital, and amounts to a lot of shirt sales.
‘Rage’ though? That may be overstating things a bit; I’ve broken nothing, lashed out at no-one, kicked no dogs, swung no cats…
Best to calm down a bit and look at the…
…
…let’s not, it’s altogether too depressing.
02 August 2016
For a man wanting to become one of the few this world has ever seen to attain the status of a nuclear’ button’ pusher, Donald Trump has a lot of personal buttons he just does not want pressed.
Unusually for me I’m not going to spend time listing what I think they are, it’s pretty evident that every attack on his statements (to begin with) is a trigger for the man.
Keeping the world safe would now seem to be appropriate for all political ‘sides’ - in the USA and the rest of the sane world - there can’t be much more ramp left up which Trump’s increasingly adversarial tone can ascend.
‘Change’ seems to be the driving force behind the man’s support. Not the same kind of positivity shown 8 years ago prior to Persistent Obama’s success, no. This change is as dark as things get in the so-called civilised world…
I have a theory. Soon ‘The Donald’ will do something so ridiculous and… no, abhorrent, that the Republican Party - and US voters with at least half a brain - will be FORCED to shun the man. Nothing he’s done thus far has worked, but I can imagine his growing despair as each initiative fails.
To be fair though, I thought that about the run-up to Brexit; surely no-one would be daft-enough to vote ‘Leave’ knowing how ill-prepared we were, how ill-prepared we remain. Look how wrong I was there!
31 July 2016
Because there’s nothing else in this world worth commenting on, not yesterday’s family trip to Blackpool, not Brexit, not terrorism or the perceived threats from people we don’t know to our way of life, not climate change, not all the other things, I shall post a link to an article about Donald Trump.
Its nothing major, merely relating to yet another of his insensitive statements. It’s nothing particularly inflammatory, especially compared to some of the insane opinions he’s voiced, no.
The article itself is, to be fair, almost incidental to the gradual expansion of the footnote accompanying every Trump-related article on the HuffPost site.
Please visit and scroll and click the links within the Editor’s Note:
Trump Responds To Father Of Killed American Soldier, Can’t Name A Single Sacrifice
Thanks.
24 July 2016
Inspired by a Tweet:
“@rabryst: Tell me an example of an uncommon reason for crying, in a particular film. That warm bristly feeling just before the tears counts. And go.”
Well, I though about it. Here goes:
My all-time favourite movie is Armageddon. It’s a roller-coaster ride of epic proportions, a film during which I can suspend my sense of disbelief, ignore my engineer’s-innate sense that the physics isn’t exactly Newtonian, and simply relax into the story.
Not-quite a ritual but I’ve watched it at least once a year since the film came out on DVD. I’ll never tire of it.
I cry. I cry every time I watch it. I cry safe in the knowledge that my emotions are being manipulated by industry-proven methods not limited to…
No Baz, let’s not spoil this.
I laugh too, I cringe, I empathise, I literally sit on the edge of my seat. Literally, not figuratively; I LIVE the movie. Sure the characters aren’t as fully-fleshed-out as I’d like, but I really don’t care.
Here’s a typical quote:
Colonel William Sharp:
“Get off… the nuclear… warhead.”
Awesome. In the very best sense.
There are indeed a couple of low points: the short cuts between the world’s celebrations of the unlikely teams of drillers and bona-fide astronauts seem calculated to tug at the heartstrings. My disbelief returns. And there’s something else not-quite-believable, but I’m not here to fact-check or find bloopers, no.
The very best bit in the whole film, it’s tiny, it’s understated amongst the joy and the sheer gung-ho spectacle around it. ‘Poignant’ is a good word to use at this point.
Dan Truman leads a team of NASA scientists tasked with the destruction of the terrifyingly-big lump of rock swinging round from the depths of space towards the destruction of Planet Earth; something at which I’m sure it would excel without breaking a figurative sweat. Now, a childhood disability robbed the man of the chance to become an astronaut; nonetheless he followed his dream and made a massive contribution to our salvation. He believed in the team he was putting together.
Amidst the cheesiness of the concluding scenes after the heroes return to earth he approaches the recently-deceased Harry Stamper’s daughter Grace, just reunited with A.J., her love - their marriage finally approved by her dad “I wish I could have been there to walk you down the aisle…”…
A.J. breaks his embrace with Grace, turns to Dan and hands him a piece of cloth, a tattered and charred Misson patch, testament to the trials the team endured: “Harry wanted you to have this”. Dan takes it: “He did huh.”
Understated, powerful as anything else out there. Perfect. I can feel it now.
And the music starts to swell, a military plane formation arrives, one peeling away as they reach the landing site; it’s called The Missing Man Formation.
And then Aerosmith, ‘I don’t want to miss a thing’.
And then I cry.
No hidden messages here, sorry dear reader.
24 July 2016
Pizza is on its way.
Late yesterday one of the girls asked to go see ‘The BFG’: the film adaptation of Roald Dahl’s excellent book. My wife has read it to my daughters, and I remain part-way through a similar reading.
Everyone should read the heartwarming tale of a…
Ahhh, but I don’t do spoilers.
Suffice it to say we enjoyed the film, I saw enough of the story in my head from the book to be pleased and entertained…
Under normal circumstances the suspension of my disbelief isn’t a problem; I’m not massively critical of films I pick or take the girls to.
Rewinding to a point halfway through The BFG though, the insistent pressure on my bladder became utterly intolerable; we had to leave our seats and visit the gents. Awkward with 2 girls in tow. Not that I cared! (We didn’t miss much.)
Every time the go out I counsel my two to make sure they’ve been for a pee. We’ve done well so far. This time I’d actually taken my own advice and had one just before we left for the pictures.
(sighs) Getting old?