I happened upon this quote from Adam Gopnik of the New Yorker while doing some research on a social media project. (Yes, again with the serendipity.) Continue reading
Politics
Right off
I came across this via the LinkedIn Higher Education Academy Group.
It’s a dire (in every sense of the word) warning about “the rapid infiltration of the UK’s education system by those espousing right wing dogma“.
Please … let’s be serious here.
Right-wing infiltration of our education system?
In my dreams.
Egypt: all of a Twitter?
Animal wrongs
Animal rights fascists have claimed another scalp. Lydd Primary School headteacher Andrea Charman has quit after campaigners threatened violence against her and her primary school.
Why? Because she sent a lamb for slaughter.
To see a lamb at school
The lamb, called Marcus, was reared on a school farm set up by Mrs Charman.
The farm was meant to educate the children about the reality of farming, and to let them know where their food comes from.
The bleating obvious
Marcus, though no doubt a winsome beast, as lambs tend to be, was therefore an animal raised for meat.
Ee aye ee aye
The decision to slaughter him was approved by most of the children, and by the governors.
Oh…
But the balaclava bigots couldn’t stomach that, and launched a hate campaign against the school.
Bah bah
In this, of course, they were helped by the cuddles brigade – hundreds protested outside the school; there was (sigh…) a “Save Marcus” Facebook page; and TV host Paul O’Grady offered to give the lamb a home if it was spared.
And some parents claimed their children had been “traumatised” when they learnt the lamb had to die.
This is obviously not true, of course, ‘traumatised’ being probably the most misused word in our much-misused language.
I blame the schools. Speaking of which…
When Mrs Charman arrived at the primary school, it was in special measures.
When she left, it had just got “a glowing Ofsted report”.
Nuff said…
Ticking the right box
I had to fill in a form the other day to register for a course at my university. Most of the information was relevant, and there for an obvious purpose – name, address, place of work, etc.
No Harman done
But then we got to the Harriet boxes: race, gender, etc. I can see why these data would be useful and even harm(an)less for some purposes. But the fact is, that after 12 years of Labour rule, I just don’t trust anyone who wants to know all this; and I don’t know what they’ll do with the information.
Aside from leave it on a train, of course.
The Bartleby box
So I looked for what I call the Bartleby box – the one that lets you tick Rather Not Say.
This always struck me as a bit feeble. So you can imagine my delight that the legend had been replaced by the much more robust phrase, Information Refused.
MYOB
It’s not perfect – my preferred legend would be Mind Your Own Business.
But it’s a start.
So I ticked it.
Information refused.
Nuff said.
Honourable members
MPs always seem puzzled by the way they’re viewed with such contempt. Well, here’s one reason, in a revealing story from the Hull Daily Mail: Continue reading
I spy
Lincolnshire County Council are playing their own game of I-spy. But it’s no fun. Continue reading
A very civil servant
Anyone heard of Sir John James Cowperthwaite? I hadn’t until last week, when I came across his name in a review of a book about Hong Kong.
But we should campaign for a statue of him to be erected in Whitehall. preferably in front of the Treasury, and preferably big enough to block the entrance. Continue reading
Cuba: the bottom line
In yet another triumph of socialist planning, Cuba has announced that it’s about to run out of toilet paper.
Climex, the state-run organization that makes all the toilet paper for the Workers’ Paradise, says it won’t be able to make any more until at least December.
Bum deal
A Climex spokesperson said: “The corporation has taken all the steps so that at the end of the year there will be an important importation of toilet paper”.
Good news
Look on the bright side, though: at least now, Cubans have found a use for Granma, the party newspaper.