This post made from recycled materials

According to Idiot/Savant, "Nominations are open for the 2008 Bloggies. It has an Australia/New Zealand category. You know what to do..."

Some posts

This is what we want: quality cat blogging. Russell writes about Colin, much to the displeasure of Idiot/Savant.

George is warming to Labour and has furries on bikes, a clean and green approach to a bizarre fetish provided by popular beat combo Bat For Lashes.

Lyndon makes predictions.

Jarrod goes shopping.

Deborah takes on the Pope

Kakariki discoversmud stencils

Zoster finds a Hello Kitty assault rifle

Terence delves into the memory hole.

Peter designs a better bach.

Catch 22 revisited

The undisputed master of milking the system is KBR, the former Halliburton subsidiary so ubiquitous in Iraq that soldiers even encounter its customer-survey sheets in outhouses. The company has been exposed by whistle-blowers in numerous Senate hearings for everything from double-charging taxpayers for $617,000 worth of sodas to overcharging the government 600 percent for fuel shipments. When things went wrong, KBR simply scrapped expensive gear: The company dumped 50,000 pounds of nails in the desert because they were too short, and left the Army no choice but to set fire to a supply truck that had a flat tire. "They did not have the proper wrench to change the tire," an Iraq vet named Richard Murphy told investigators, "so the decision was made to torch the truck."

In perhaps the ultimate example of military capitalism, KBR reportedly ran convoys of empty trucks back and forth across the insurgent-laden desert, pointlessly risking the lives of soldiers and drivers so the company could charge the taxpayer for its phantom deliveries. Truckers for KBR, knowing full well that the trips were bullshit, derisively referred to their cargo as "sailboat fuel."

From Rolling Stone, via Alternet, with hat tip to Terence.

The end of Art History

Some readers will know that I have been accepted by the Art History Department at the University of Auckland as a PhD candidate. My subject is the influence of architectural historians on architectural culture in New Zealand. I think it is what those PoMo chaps call a meta-narrative.

There are some who have misgivings about the value of meta-narratives or, for that matter any kind of narrative, such as Mark Miller Graham:

Closure denotes a satisfying end, a coming to terms, in which highly suspect and subjective stylistic and iconographic sequences form a causal chain as if they were dominoes of the gods. Thus, they play upon existential desires for resolution. One way of accounting for art history's unnatural attachment to narrative closure is to turn to the psychoanalytical notion of cathexis, as the libidinal investment made in the narrative. The history of art is propelled forward by this energy invested in narrative. Together, chronology and closure are a kind of machinery that can be likened to, or are actual expressions of, the quest for (male) sexual release.

That would explain it, then: Art History is a load of wank.

Scooters, vacation, fall

There is nothing like a list of rankings to make bloggers needy and nerdy at the same time, so it is good to see that Tim Selwyn has done sums and produced the NZ Blogosphere rankings. As expected, some bloggers are doubting the results and questioning the methodology. The Fundy Post will not be among them: this blog's standing at number 30 is quite agreeable, particularly as little was posted here for much of the survey period.

That said, I cannot resist the opportunity to examine The State of the New Zealand Blogosphere. After all, we are a nation given over to introspection, doubt and self-examination. We love this sort of thing. So, Hey ho, let's go.

For a start, there seem to be an awful lot of libertarians in Blogzealand but one hardly ever meets them IRL; is blogging a condition of membership of the ACT Party? There are a fair number of lefties as well, although I note that my own commitment to the Left is questioned by Mr Selwyn. Was it something I said?

It is also a very male list. I count ten blogs of the one hundred which are written by a woman or by a group in which a woman is prominent; only one, Red Confectionery, is a wholly female group blog. I am not sure what to think of that, especially since most of the blogs on this list are political in content. Where are the women? Are so few blogging about politics? Is it because of the troll problem?

And what of the blogs written by women which are not about politics; why are they not on this list? Where are Harvest Bird, Robyn and Make Tea Not War? Where is Wanda Harland when we need her? And why all these questions?

The answer is in the small print. This is a ranking of political blogs. It is all about "public discourse," a phrase which presumably means No Cats. There are exceptions, but then you couldn't have a blog party without inviting Brain Stab, could you? But then you can't have a party without any girls; if you don't have girls, the men stand around talking about politics.

In my less than humble opinion, the problem with blogs is that the political chaps want to have their say, so they set up blogs and link to all the other political chaps. Blogging is serious business, for serious people. The real political blogs are joined by fake ones – politicians pretending to be bloggers. The non-political blogs, often written by people with specialist interests who know what they are talking about, don't get a look in. Writing skills count less than political allegiances. And the result is a list like this, where many of the entries, whether left or right, are unreadable.

Not that Mr Selwyn is at fault in compiling this list. The dominance of political blogs seems to be a natural feature of the blogging ecosystem and is self-perpetuating. Among those political blogs are writers who are informed about the issues and can present the arguments. It is just a shame about the rest. I, for one, would rather see a good blog about cats in the list, rather than a bad blog about the Resource Management Act.

Let's look on the bright side: Mr Selwyn's list may help to bring about change. By making a list and updating it, he may bring to public attention blogs which otherwise would be overlooked. People might discover Ethical Martini, stanselen, Channel Chanel or the new blog of the legendary Liz Shaw: political, written by a woman and filled with observations such as "It's great to go outside and get some fresh air while having a cigarette."

Having read this far, you may be asking, "how do I get into this blogging craze which is sweeping the nation? Is there a dress code? Do I need special equipment?" You could start by reading the articles posted here , which includes one that tells you not to use "here" as a link term. In fact, it turns out I am doing everything wrong. For blogging success, I should be including tags (Blogger helpfully gives as examples "scooters, vacation, fall" which makes me think of Mark E Smith on a Vespa, somewhere in Italy) but I can't be arsed. I should also be using titles that are relevant to the topics, but that would be no fun.

These pages also include this helpful advice:

"To me, the most difficult thing about blogging is finding a good topic. Not all days: some days I have so many ideas that I couldn't possibly blog about them all. That's why it's handy to keep a blogging notebook or a blogging calendar. I use those 10 cent little spiral notebooks. Others I know use those calendars that the dentist, vet, and bank give away during December. There's no right answer; use whatever works for you.

I use a computer. It's a Macintosh; that works for me. I find the best thing to do with those calenders is to put them in the bin.

Here's my blogging pro-tip: nothing is predictable. Here is an example. Of all the images I have posted, the one which has brought in the most traffic is the furry girl. Yes, furries are coming to this blog. At least they don't know where I live. Yiff.

Here is The Fall, a band which has had so many members that they cannot remember the name of their first drummer:

Like, whatever

In before Russell: TCP/IP is Twenty-five.

Comments on my previous post show that readers of left and right are united in condemnation of John Key's aesthetic preferences. It is time to put our political differences aside and stand together, as we face of one of the greatest threats to this nation's well-being: bad architecture. As we enter a New Year, this blog is determined to seek out and mock tacky buildings wherever they can be found.

In the meantime, since this blog has at least one rightish reader, here are some links which reflect the Fundy Post's commitment to diversity. Staying with architecture, how about this for a laugh? A radical, a liberal, a traditionalist, and a conservative are in a car talking about palladium windows, which would be hard to see through and expensive to replace. Moving on, in the free part of Salon Camille Paglia argues for the North American intellectual tradition; it's all about the weather, apparently. In the New Criterion, Theodore Dalrymple (not his real name) discovers he likes a work of conceptual art. And here's something which will really confuse the conservatives: gay Muslims.

Meanwhile and back home, Larry Baldock claims his anti-anti-spanking petition has 250,000 signatures. This blogeur recalls Mr Baldock's previous petition which was anti-prostitution reform and which was just a few signatures away from victory before it collapsed. In Britain, MPs challenge the Bishops.

The NY Times has found a blog which lists bloggers' favourite posts of 2007, which just goes to show how easy it is these days to do print journalism. One that might interest readers is about the new Atheism. Readers might also be interested in the opportunity to date Jesus. Back home again, Horansome has learned that God is a conspiracy theory.

Whilst on the subject of myths, this blogeur (who is of Scottish ancestry and who has considerably more claim to the name of Dalrymple than does Theodore) is somewhat miffed that the story of the Water Horse has been made into a cutesy movie, particularly when the gruesome facts about the Each Uisge are so much more entertaining. On the other hand, this blogeur (who was raised in Kent) is pleased that hodening is making a come-back. And, if you are wondering about the the future of the English language, it is totally in the hands of teenage girls; random.

And finally, back to that story about the homes of the rich and famous in the Herald on Sunday; did it seem to you to be, like, so last year? Did you get a feeling (in the words of my favourite Herald headline) of deja vu all over again? Well, like, DUH: the Herald ran virtually the same story the Christmas before last.

A house fit for horrors

This is a time of year when bloggers should put aside the petty concerns of politics and consider instead matters of the Arts. So, following the example set by Mr Peter Cresswell, I shall indulge myself in a little architectural criticism.

The house pictured is the holiday home of one John Key, who is shown in the photograph. The house is one of several featured in an item from yesterday's Herald on Sunday, entitled, "Revealed: the holiday hideout of rich and famous." Mr Key, a retired foreign exchange dealer, is described by the paper as a "Prime-Minister-in-waiting."

Whilst he is waiting, Mr Key really should think about doing some gardening. I may be mistaken; perhaps the appearance of abandonment is newly fashionable among people of money; possibly Mr Key wishes to give the impression that he is too busy to spend time on personal concerns. Maybe he holds to Green principles and wishes to let his plot of land grow naturally, without human intervention. Or perhaps he has simple tastes and prefers weeds to flowers. But I think not. He should find a landscape gardener immediately, before people think he is the sort of man who would leave a car on his front lawn.

His gardener, if she has taste, will suggest tactfully that the garden be adorned with fast-growing trees, perhaps Leylandii or even Pinus Radiata. It is imperative that the house be concealed from public gaze as soon as possible. For there is only one word that can adequately describe this immodest abode and that is "vulgar."

It is difficult to know where to begin. Here is a house (described somewhat disingenuously by the Herald as a "bach") which has the appearance of a miniature office building. Rather than its present location at Omaha Beach, its design suits it to a business park on the outskirts of the city, conveniently near major transport hubs. The reader should note the extravagant and charmless cornice, apparently supported by massive piers, as well as the floor-to-ceiling windows in tinted glass. The reader should note these and resolve never to have a home with these features; unless, that is, he should wish to have regular visits from photocopier salesmen, for surely they will flock to his door.

Should one be visiting Mr Key in his holiday home, whether to attempt to sell office products or for social reasons, it would be very bad form to tap one of those seemingly weighty piers. It would chime like a bell. The piers must be hollow, since the wooden deck which apparently supports and surrounds them could not bear the weight of so much masonry. Wits might observe that this is a hollow house for a hollow man.

Fortunately, one can see little of the interior through the tinted glass. One suspects that it would contain a white leather lounge suite, on which Mr Key would relax with half a glass of Chablis while listening to Air Supply's Greatest Hits on the Bang and Olufson. One imagines the bookshelves, if there are any, would contain works by John Grisham and Dean Koontz. Doubtless, the walls are adorned with paintings of sailing boats, done in a pseudo-impressionist style.

If only, for the sake of this nation's reputation abroad, one could say that Mr Key had inherited this unfortunate state of affairs. But, as he never ceases to tell us, Mr Key was brought up in a State house, one which probably was a much better work of architecture than this. All this, apparently, is Mr Key's work. He bought the empty plot seventeen years past for a mere $147,000; with the house, it is worth $2.95 Million. The choice of design was his own, as is the location: Success Court.

I would continue, but readers of this blog are men and women of delicate aesthetic sensibilities. Instead, I shall wish you all a happy New Year.

Not in Kansas, anymore

Church sexual abuse with a twist: the perp is a woman, the church is Baptist.

Creflo Dollar, a man not unknown to these shores, is under investigation.

In Britain, the money is in charity.

Career opportunities: the Vatican wants more exorcists.

Also coming to you from the Middle Ages: martyrs.

Meanwhile, in Poland, the Church has authorised an exorcism centre.

Meanwhile, in England, Poles

Meanwhile, in Canada, empty pews

Meanwhile, in Italia, il terrorismo islamista.

Back in England, there are too many Bishops

The War Against Christmas continues in Oklahoma.

Even Kansas is not in Kansas.

Finally, an atheist movie

with thanks to Craig for the links

Leftovers

It's that time of year again. Yesterday's lead story in both the Herald and the Dom was that a New Zealander had been bitten by a snake, in Australia. Woop de woop, as the young folks say. In an effort to provide readers with something to read, here are some links to some items of interest.

In the New York Review of Books, Malise Ruthven reviews some books concerning the religion of peace. In the TLS, John Habgood grumbles about the New Atheism, "which has a sharper tongue, is gleefully aggressive rather than solemnly regretful, and makes much use of ridicule." Oh yes, indeed. In the Guardian, Timothy Garton Ash talks about faith, reason and Mitt Romney. Robert Bellah longs for a global civil religion.

Turning towards a more important matter, n+1 discusses dating. John Lanchester tells us all about derivatives. Frederick C Crews talks about drugs.

Lincoln Caplan makes an exhortation about executive supremacy. Jonathan Jones gets the creeps from the Isenheim Altarpiece. Paul Hockenos considers the romanticising of the Red Army Faction. Christopher Hitchens measures his words.

Finally, Caleb Crain contemplates the twilight of the books.


There, I bet that cheered you up. Today's illustration was provided by the excellent Mr Samuel Finnemore, who has spent most of this year commenting for great justice on Mr Wishart's blog.

Have yourself a very Fascist Christmas

One of my favourite traditions at this time of year is the War Against Christmas. Like many traditions, it is not that old: the religious right in the USofA discovered that Christmas was under attack from secularists only a couple of yuletides ago. However, hostilities have broken out all over the place, including the Old Country. A Member of Parliament called Pritchard, who represents the Conservative interest in the Wrekin, has taken up the call to arms. Apparently, "many shoppers find it increasingly difficult to buy greeting cards with references to Christ." It is obvious why: the fascists have bought them all. Mr Pritchard says the British National Party in Staffordshire has sent out cards showing the holy family and bearing the words 'heritage, tradition and culture.' I am so glad I am not on their list, or any of their lists.

Things are so different in the Levant. Mr Pritchard told his audience, "yesterday I received an e-mail from a Jewish gentleman in Beirut, who told me of nativity plays performed in schools there. If it is good enough for Lebanon, it is good enough for London." I should think so, too. London should have an endless war between Christians and Muslims, with help from Syria and Israel. That would give the youth of today some moral fibre. Instead, they have Amy Winehouse, who is Jewish but no gentleman (incidentally, on Waiheke Island recently, I saw a teenage girl who looked like Ms Winehouse and who had styled her hair accordingly; I bet she is a worry to her parents).

The full text of Mr Pritchard's speech can be found here. It is a masterpiece of imagery. He exalts his fellow members to "slay the dragon of political correctness" and provides what must be the simile of the year: "taking Christ out of Christmas is like serving the Christmas turkey without the stuffing."

Mr Pritchard also has stern words for us heathens: "turning to secularists, it is wrong of the anti-Christian lobby, whether atheistic, humanist or secularist, not to afford the level of tolerance to the Christian faith that they rightly demand for their own world view and beliefs or lack of belief." I must say, it is very nice of him to be so politically correct as to distinguish between the different kinds of non-believer. But I don't think atheists can be blamed for the rarity of advent calendars.

Whilst we are at it, and thinking of war, why did none of these crusaders ever complain about the war films shown on television at Christmas? When I was growing up in England, on Christmas Day the BBC would always show Von Ryan's Express or The Guns of Navarone. It is no wonder that the only people left who care about the reason for the season are the Staffordshire fascists: the holy family keeps folks' minds off killing Nazis.

Dispatches from the war against Christmas in the USofA can be found here, while Flumadiddle brings us the true tat of Christmas. And, in case you didn't know already, it was all invented by Charles Dickens.

Finally, and thinking of the Wrekin, here is a unrelated song from Wreckless Eric

One more thing: here is my Christmas card to you. I hope you will find it tolerant and secular.