Twisted Spinster

Mark Shea has the same problem with the BBC’s Robin Hood series that I do. The only difference is he seems to actually watch the show, and I bugged out after being presented with a scene of modest medieval maiden Maid Marian traipsing through a village market wearing a short-sleeved shirt and capri pants, both of diaphanous material that in a real girl of the period would have been confined to a scarf or headdress. I don’t care that it stars that cute guy from that Doctor Who episode (“42”) either. I’m not a stickler for complete historic verisimilitude (I love the film Gladiator, for one thing), but this is more than I’m preparing to put up with. I’ll stick with the New-Agey pagan nonsense of the 80s “Hooded Man” version starring Michael Praed.

Oh yeah — and what he said about our culture being degraded compared to that of our so-called primitive ancestors is something that I’ve been thinking for quite some time. What is always funny to me is the way people start bleating on about “dentistry” whenever someone brings up the strange fact that people in the supposed “Dark Ages” seem to live in an atmosphere steeped in enough rapturous poeticism to give a million goth kids orgasms, but when faced with the actual fact of having to go to the dentist reveal just how skin deep is their love of our sophisticated medical tech. (Full disclosure: I hate going to the dentist, and have a mouthful — well, less than that, actually — to prove it.)

(Via Kathy Shaidle.)

Next day update: a thought did occur to me, though, that made me question Mark Shea’s Absolute Fandom response to the music and poetry of ancient culture. And that thought was: just how do we really know that our ancestors were more completely steeped in excellent song and story — just because our culture seems to find those fragments which are all we have left of the long ago to be somehow better than what we produce today? It just might be that we think everyone in, say, old Babylon wandered about their society doing nothing but singing and dancing and so on, but how do we know that what they sang and danced was what we found on the clay tablets? What if “Gilgamesh” was just some “official version” of a hero story, sponsored by the local rulers of the time, which the actual bulk of the populace had little interest in, and we only have the tale because the songs and poems people really liked were only passed on orally, no one bothered to write them down. Oh, and all those popular songs and poems were about the rich bitch down the street having sex with her uncle’s goats, songs about drinking and farting, and fair similar in content (or, well, lack thereof) to the more sophisticatedly presented junk we get on the E! channel.

Another thing is life in the good old days was really hard except for the very rich, who could afford to sit around all day listening to beautiful poems about Ra. Most people didn’t have time for singing and dancing, and would have looked at you funny if you asked them about weird modern concepts such as “art.” “What do you mean do I think the songs in praise of the gods are artistically pleasing? I’m not singing just to impress folk — if I didn’t praise the gods I’d end up in the underworld having my heart eaten by a jackal!”

Concerned Reader Nigel, who must have just been banned from Tim Blair’s new site the way I apparently banned him from Tim’s old site (I banned so many, their cries of pain merge into a unified scream of horror in my memories… ah, good times, good times), is worried:

Hi. I was interested to read your comments above regarding moderation and convenience.

I’m just wondering if you will be publishing the personal email address of people who register – the way you did to me (with associated abuse) on Tim Blair’s blog in 2006.

If so, perhaps you should let people know of this possibility.

Since the post he left that comment on is ancient, I’ll reply here: let’s just say, Nige old buddy, that I’m keeping all possibilities open.

Sorry, folks, I’ve been PMS’ing like mad since Sunday — in other words, I’ve either been totally possessed by incandescent rage or slumping under the weight of apathetic depression, or is it depressed apathy… I’m feeling a little better, though, so my hormones must be getting themselves back under control. Still, my condition means I can’t read anything on the internet lest I break more of my good stuff (victims so far: one of my good wine glasses — I can’t have nice things — and a coffee cup that was fortunately one of a pair). So naturally I’ve been reading the internet, or as I’m thinking of calling it now, the Retardnet.

I’ll be back when the red light fades from my vision and people stop crossing the street to get away from me.

It would look lovely in the entrance hall to my Secret Mountain Lair: Charles Babbage’s Difference Engine is finally built. (Warning: link is to a video that starts automatically.)

Via Ace of Spades, taking a break from politics and sex.

Hi kids! I went to see the fireworks in my town last night. It’s held over this lake, so it was sort of like Bilbo’s birthday party on steroids — and without a fireworks dragon, alas. Otherwise it was a great show, suitably loud. It was also extremely crowded — it took my friends and I nearly two hours to get out of the parking lot. I think it might have been extra crowded this year because a lot of the communities around here are not having July 4th weekend celebrations due to budget cuts or something. Anyway, I had a good time, though I was also reminded of 1) my age, and 2) why I don’t go to concerts anymore.

Anyway, I plan to get rid of this rather boring blog theme as soon as I can decide which of the ones I downloaded I like, so there will be that to look forward to. There is no new Doctor Who episode tonight — SciFi is taking the 4th off and is showing a Twilight Zone montage instead. Confession: I never really liked The Twilight Zone — I always found it either too depressing (so many of the characters ended up basically insane; also every episode that was set in outer space seemed to have a “leaving the Earth is hubris” theme), or too preachy (atomic bombs are bad, mmm-kay? Oh yeah, and people suck too!). Give me cheesy old Star Trek (the original series) episodes any day.

When they came for the dogs, I said nothing, because I owned two cats…

Seriously, could this be the point of no return in Blighty? As long as they kept to questions of human behavior the Muslims were safe, because the British have made one-upmanship on bending over backwards to prove they are the most polite nation in the world a national sport. But now Muslims are attacking not only dogs — which many residents of the sceptered isles love more than their own mothers — but Scottish dogs. You know, it’s time the Scots remembered they aren’t English — and aren’t famous for being polite.* And the English thereby might remember the Saxon component in their own makeup… (I base this not on the standard weak-kneed response from the police constabulary, but from the comments to the article, which so far are 100% behind the dog.)

Via Kathy Shaidle.

*I had this sentence in my entry last night and somehow in editing and correcting my spelling etc. it disappeared! I told you I was tired…

I’ve just been busy. Getting used to the new job, etc. Well, mostly that — from sloth and sleeping all day to a full time day job that starts at 7 in the morning is quite a…

Something — I forgot what I was going to say. Well, I’m tired too. More later, when I get some rest.

PS: thanks to everyone who has contributed to my donation links. I don’t get paid until next Friday, and that will only be a temp’s wages until I get officially hired, and I don’t know when that will be, so every bit helps.

Yes, I read ahead… the episode won’t be on this side of the pond for a few weeks, but apparently Russell T. Davies has pulled one of his trademark mind screws on the Doctor Who-watching public with the last aired-over-there episode “The Stolen Earth.” If you aren’t like me and don’t like knowing what’s to come, don’t read the link — I am only mentioning it because the Wikipedia entry I read last night was markedly different from the one that’s up there now. By that I mean last night whoever typed in the synopsis must have either been reeling in shock from what he/she had just viewed, or was drunk of his/her ass, or both, because it was barely coherent and riddled with spelling mistakes, and also had a different picture (as in, much more spoilerrific) than the one they have there now. I wish I’d done a screen capture before some alert Wikipedia guardian came across the entry, went “oh shit,” and replaced it with the relatively sane one that’s there now. It just goes to show you can’t trust the internet, but you knew that already.

Vandals spray-painted “Obama Smokes Crack” and other hate messages on 60 city vehicles parked across the street from City Hall in downtown Orlando.

Via.

Kathy Shaidle is back in town after getting married. Woot! Also she looks spectacular in her dress, and not at all like Hillary Clinton.