I also like things like this...

(original pic)

usually from www.deviantart.com

Advertising

One of my great library of annoyances is adverts. Unimaginative, predictable, twee, and downright misleading adverts. But I like this one. I think all adverts should be creative and arty and long. Then we can get rid of rubbish adverts.

Dear Mr Derren Brown

Good morning, Mr Derren Brown

Perhaps you've been expecting me?

My name is iBen Foster and I too am a fellow mentalist. I have immersed my very self in the realms of the psychic for many years now. A great many years Mr Derren Brown. Perhaps you've heard of me? I keep myself to the Norwich underground scene.

I'm here (on e-mails) today to speak to you about a phenomenon which I have been studying called `Pascoe's Ubiquitous Personality Basket Effect` (or P'UPBE). It is a very little known phenomenon which I have only be'heard fromce Pascal's very own great great grandson, Guy Pascoe himself. (You probably wouldn't have heard of him)

For P'UPBE to take place there needs to be present but seven people and the Basket-Master himself/her making a grand sum total of 8 physical people. The Basket-Master begins with the words `François D'François! Myne friend, myne ubiquitous Lord, I beseach thyself to com'eth unto this gathering!` Once François D'François has been summoned by the Basket-Master the gathered assembly all write down the name of the person sitting to the left of themselves, then having folded the paper in half four times, put it in the Personality Basket in the middle of the table.

The Basket-Master then declares `François D'François, you have treated us well` at which point François D'François departs. The Basket-Master pulls out a piece of paper, literally at random and declares the name loudly and clearly to the assembly (EG: `MARY!`). The benamed assemblee would then stand to his feet/her and face the Basket-Master. The Basket-Master will stare into his eyes/her and will initiate a conversation, the result of which will be the delegate will be compelled to bespeak a truth to the gathered that he hasn't/she ever told anyone (EG `I've been poisoning my husband with lead these last few years`). The now cleansed person will thence beseat themselves and the Basket-Master will take another item of paper from the Secrets-Basket.

Now, Mr Derren Brown, I have mastered the entire routine by heart. but struggle to get the deligee to bespeak a real human truth. Perhaps you can help me? I shall be performing at a secret location on Theatre Street, Norwich later this year for a private performance. Perhaps you would be inclined to join me?

Yours sincerely

Mr iBen Foster

It's all just a little bit of history repeating...

``The bourgeoisie, by the rapid improvement of all instruments of production, by the immensely facilitated means of communication, draws all, even the most barbarian, nations into civilization. The cheap prices of its commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters down all Chinese walls ... in one word, it creates a world after its own image.``

- The Communist Manifesto (Friedrich & Engels) 1848

We're entering a world, it seems, where China is in all but liberty, the new great embodiment of a national capitolist dream. The world's biggest country (by population) struts about the global free market with a steadily urbanizing economy, jettisoning its reliance on agriculture in favour of centralized industrial labour. China is, in fact, the most significant industrial revolution in living memory.

But the hypocricy of using the words `industrial`, `centralized` and `urbanizing` for a communist state seems to somewhat detatch from the nature of arms based egalitarianism on which Chariman Mao first founded the republic.

The truth is that the course of capitolism is so permiated by human nature one nation cannot help but be seduced by it. One nation's rocks are another one's jewellery; and to recipricate their own labour costs are the diamond wearer's year-on-year performance growth margins in the manufacturing sector.

Mutual trans-national exploitation is a worthy substitute for war.

This is the situation China has reached now. Gone are the days when cheap manufacturing kept our bourgeoisie in Jaguars and the People's Republic's people in leaky shanties. China has reaced an economic critical mass - the fine line is being toed where their labour force can unionise like the Western industrial revolutions that preceeded it - demand better healthcare, a vote and ultimately a stake in the businesses that run them - or at least the freedom to start their own enterprises without the legal obligation to nationalise 50% of their business. The alternative outcome to the critical mass is China keeps its work force subdued and Stalin's dream of the proleteriat's ambivolence to ambition will be acheived.

In this just as likely instance, China will not cease its growth, will continue to outsource its lesser industries to poorer African states and use its economic and sheer geographic might to envelop the West. And the West, crippled by the laws that protect workers, will be powerless to stop Hu Jintao's empire.



The irony is that in this doomsday scenario, it will be the West's indolent overunionised industrial-reactionists that caused their own demise because they didn't bank on another nation growing their industries in the areas in which they put up roadblocks. And that is history full circle from the time when imperial China became the PRC.

Poem for Summer

I've long been a fan of Taylor Mali, roughly since the time (but not related to) when Garcia showed me some of his performance poetry on youtubes.

This is a transcript from one of my favourites


Silver-Lined Heart
By Taylor Mali (www.taylormali.com)
I’m for reckless abandon
and spontaneous celebrations of nothing at all,
like the twin flutes I kept in the trunk of my car
in a box labeled Emergency Champagne Glasses!
Raise an unexpected glass to long, cold winters
and sweet hot summers and the beautiful confusion of the times in between.
To the unexpected drenching rain that leaves you soaking
wet and smiling breathless;
“We danced in the garden in torn sheets in the rain,”
we were christened in the sanctity of the sprinkler,
can’t you hear it singing out its Hallelujah?
Here’s to the soul-expanding power
of the simply beautiful.
See, things you hate, things you despise,
multinational corporations and lies that politicians tell,
injustices that make you mad as hell,
that’s all well and good.
And as far as writing poems goes,
I guess you should.
It just might be a poem that gets Mumia released,
brings an end to terrorism or peace in the middle east.
But as far as what soothes me, what inspires and moves me,
honesty behooves me to tell you your rage doesn’t move me.
See, like the darkest of clouds my heart has a silver lining,
which does not harken to the loudest whining,
but beats and stirs and grows ever more
when I learn of the things you’re actually for.
That’s why I’m for best friends, long drives, and smiles,
nothing but the sound of thinking for miles.
For the unconditional love of dogs:
may we learn the lessons of their love by heart.
For therapy when you need it,
and poetry when you need it.
And the wisdom to know the difference.
The solution to every problem usually involves some kind of liquid,
even if it’s only Emergency Champagne
or running through the sprinkler.
Can’t you hear it calling you?
I’m for crushes not acted upon, for admiration from afar,
for the delicate and the resilient and the fragile human heart,
may it always heal stronger than it was before.
For walks in the woods, and for the woods themselves,
by which I mean the trees. Definitely for the trees.
Window seats, and locally brewed beer,
and love letters written by hand with fountain pens:
I’m for all of these.
I’m for evolution more than revolution
unless you’re offering some kind of solution.
I’m for the courage it takes to volunteer, to say “yes,” “I believe,” and “I will.”
For the bright side, the glass half full, the silver lining,
and the optimists who consider darkness just a different kind of shining.
So don’t waste my time and your curses on verses
about what you are against, despise, and abhor.
Tell me what inspires you, what fulfills and fires you,
put your precious pen to paper and tell me what you’re for!