Well, unfortunately, it was not a quiet week here at Bloody Nib Manor. As happens too frequently the local hoi polloi got frisky and decided to fire their pistols at one another on Thursday night. Fortunately there were no deaths, nor even injuries. The actual result of said shooting was frightened children and barking dogs. The local constabulary spent a lot of time making fools of themselves with their dark lanterns looking for shell casing that mean nothing at all. But that's live in the shire.
Having said the foregoing, this writer asks you, dear reader, what exactly is "cultural appropriation?"
You may remember a couple of incidences within the past eighteen months in which a person, usually a person of European heritage, was accused of "cultural appropriation." Said examples would be a a southern American blonde teen-age girl wearing a cheong-sam dress to her prom, women who are not of Latin American heritage wearing hoop earrings, or whitey-birds wearing their hair in some sort of dreadlock style. There are many more examples.
It is, of course, silly and stupid and the purview of the perpetually aggrieved. A person of European or English (and they are really two different things historically despite the claims of the modern European Unionist) heritage could just as well and justifiably claim that the wearing of trousers by men or women, the wearing of neckties, the playing of the valve trumpet or pipe, or the Hammond, organ, the musical chromatic scale, or even the usage of an Indo-European language by people who are not English, European or Indo-European are forms of cultural appropriation.
If a person of European heritage comes up with a new form of balut or ramen, jerk chicken or hummus, that person is called a "cultural appropriator." But if a person of African, Asian or Latin American origin comes up with a new twist on the hot dog, biscuits and gravy, or meat loaf that is considered an addition to the European culture. It's a one way street.
The same goes for television programs and moving pictures.
The BBC has recently run a a dramatization of Victor Hugo's novel Le Miserables. In the BBC version the detective Javert is played by a black man. The BBC has also produced a series in which the Greek hero Achilles is a black man, as well as an animated series about Roman Britain in which there are black African centurions and prefects, as well as black African Anglo-Saxon warriors and priests in 100 A.D.
These things are all silly and stupid and just plain not historical. Hugo did not see Javert as a black man. Hugo portrayed Javert as a European Frenchman. Achilles was not a black African man and any black actor who portrayed Achilles as a black African man should be ashamed of himself, as should any Chinese or Vietnamese man should have been so ashamed. Achilles was a Greek sporting blonde hair. The likelihood of a Sub-Saharan African being a Roman soldier on Britain is about as likely as a Mayan being involved in the American Revolutionary War. There were more Chinese involved in the Revolution than there were sons of Aztlan, and there were no Africans, Asians or Latinos at the Battle of Hastings. The legend of Robin Hood had no Moors (even wise ones) and was, in fact, an anti-Norman legend because those Frenchies are really a pretty awful bunch. But all these things have been portrayed in popular media; Robin Hood has an all-wise Moor adviser, Mexicans fought against the British in 1776, Achilles was the son of an African demi-goddess, and Javert somehow became a French policeman despite escaping from Haiti or the Congo.
But if a writer decides to write a story or moving picture, perhaps a fantasy story, based on the stories of Shaka Zulu, Ching Shih or Antapualpah (sp?) with a third or quarter or the cast, and perhaps even the stars or main characters, as whitey-birds the politically correct crowd would pitch a bitch that would throw the earth off it's axis with claims of cultural appropriation while the Anglo-European crowd would, except for film critics (and that bunch is really pretty awful because they realize that film criticism is not a real job but a gag), would pretty much shrug its shoulders and say, "Who cares? This isn't my story. I have my story ans know my story. That's another culture's story and I really don't give a damn about their story."
And that's the thing that the elites don't really realize.
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Saturday, September 28, 2019
A Bit of Support For a Controversial Post
Your faithful writer, a few weeks ago, wrote a post stating that many Jews seem to have a suicide complex. This from American Thinker:
Jews Fight Back!
Jews Fight Back!
Sunday, September 22, 2019
When The Perfect is the Enemy of the Good
It's been a fairly quiet week here at Bloody Nib Manor. Despite the arrival of Autumn the other day the weather is still Summer-like, and, as usual for the shire in which the Manor is located, will stay so until the middle of October. The locals, as usual, make themselves and everyone else miserable by their night-time antics of running hither and thither while yelling, screaming, getting drunk, and fighting. Some cultures deal well with hot weather. Others don't. Among those who cannot handle hot days are the denizens of the shire. It will be only a few weeks before they start setting hayricks afire because, well, because that's what they do.
But, of course, this, as usual for the first paragraph of any entry written by yours truly, has nothing to do with the matter about which he wishes to write and, hopefully, have the reader to think upon and consider.
So let us get down to brass tacks starting with a bit of history to give some background to the matter.
In 1843 there was a man in England named Robert Clarke. Mr. Clarke at the time was a farm labourer. He was also inventive. At the time there was a musical instrument referred to as a musical whistle. Said instrument was made of wood, was of a long cylindrical shape with a fipple and six holes along the length of the barrel. It was used to play what is now called "folk" music among the poor and working class. But they were, while not expensive, not cheap. And the quality of the whistles varied from whistle to whistle depending on the skill of the maker. Mr. Clarke, being a man who was on the look out for a way to improve his lot in life, realized that the fairly new material of tin-plated steel might make a good and inexpensive substitute for the wooden whistle that would have a more consistent quality of sound and tuning than the hand made wooden whistle. Working with a blacksmith Mr. Clarke developed the tooling for what was to be later called the "tin whistle" or the "penny whistle."
As soon as Mr. Clarke got his tooling and methods to his satisfaction he and his son pushed a cart with tin whistles and the tooling to Manchester, England. On the way to Manchester they sold tin whistles and made tin whistles, and once they reached their destination they set up a small factory. Mr. Clarke called his first tin whistle from the Manchester factory The Meg. "Meg" was a slang word for a half-penny. A Clarke tin whistle was sold at the cost of a Meg or a half-penny. Below is an image of the descendant of the Meg being played by a sweeper boy.
The whistles were so cheap that they could be bought by the poor for entertainment or to make money. They were cheaper than the wooden musical whistles and more consistent in sound and tuning. One famous whistler during the early days of the Clarke company was a man called Whistling Billy. Billy made basic living playing the Clarke tin whistle on street corners during the winter and spring and entertaining farm laborers during the Summer and Fall. It is said that his repertoire consisted of about 50 tunes. He was probably the first, and perhaps only, tin whistle super star.
For some reason or another, the Irish living in England took to the Clarke tin whistle. They took the whistles back to Ireland with them and there developed a musical tradition based on the tin whistle, and for near 100 years the Clarke tin whistle was the tin whistle used for Irish music. For better or worse the English forgot their own traditional music and the tin whistle came to be a thing shoved into a restless child's mouth with the order, "Go out and play." To the English the tin whistle had become a toy for children. They preferred to take on the trappings of American popular music or have their traditional music taken over by art composers such as Percy Granger and turned into something "noble" instead of on the ground. Any tin whistle music in the English media meant rural and unsophisticated much like a Jew's harp means "hillbilly" in the U.S.
The Irish, being Irish, decided that a Clarke tin whistle was a bit of an English toy. It was made, and had been made for many years, over one hundred, the same way that cheap 1950s tin plate toys were made. They were cheap and they wore out (usually the wooden fipple plug, after about eight months would fall out of the tin plate body because of the glue used to hold the fipple in the body just wore out). Never mind that a Clarke tin whistle could be purchased for less money than a couple of saxophone reeds. So the Irish decided that they would make a "better" tin whistle; a tine whistle that was more suited to Irish music. The result was an instrument made from a brass or tin plate tube with a plastic fipple and straight bore that was more shrill than the Clarke tin whistle. And it was an instrument that was more expensive than the Clarke tin whistle. Below is a photo of a Feodog tine whistle made of brass and made in Ireland.
And by the time the 1960s came along the Irish form of tin whistle was considered THE tin whistle because, well, the Irish. They seem to own the instrument these days despite the fact that in timbre the Irish form of the tin whistle is not suited for all music. And the modern Irish tin whistle costs more than the original Clarke. In fact, nowadays, many times more than the Clarke whistle. A lot of tin whistle players (mostly those playing Irish music) like the Irish form of the instrument and consider the original Clarke form as obsolete and crude despite the fact that a Clarke, by an fuss budget, can be customized and tuned in ways that Generation, Oak or Feodog whistle cannot.. And since the 1990s there have been attempts by various manufacture more and more "perfect" tin whistles. In fact, it seems that some tin whistle makers are attempting to make tine whistles that are of the same quality and tone as expensive recorders made of pear wood. But the fact of the matter is that a tin whistle, whether it is made of tin plate, brass, or even wood, is not a recorder. It is a "folk" or "traditional English/Irish" instrument. It is an instrument that was originally made for the farming and working class with a bit of bleeding over into the middle and upper classes. The Clarke was, and is, a good product. It is not perfect. But it is good, which means that the search for the perfect form of tin whistle is an exercise for the fussy and, well, really unbearable sort. To try to make a more perfect of the Clarke form of penny whistle is akin to trying to come up with a better can opener from the old cheap thing that we here at the Manor started using back in the 1950s. There's always a new and more "perfect" can opener, but despite this new wonder can opener there is always that cheap and old can opener that one goes to when one really wants to open a can and not show how modern or proper or with it one is.
The Clarke penny whistle/tin whistle is a good thing and has been good for years. It's not perfect. Nothing, even this writer, is perfect. But since the Clarke penny whistle was first manufactured during a time when there was a tradition of English "folk" music and Irish "traditional" music not infected by eggheads, it reflects, by it's manufacture and sound something that was and is and will be for a fairly cheap price compared to the modern Irish penny whistle. It is the sound of the original product. It's imperfect, And thus reflects us.
And here's a short video about the Clarke penny whistle:
The Clarke Tinwhistle Story DVD Trailer - YouTube
But, of course, this, as usual for the first paragraph of any entry written by yours truly, has nothing to do with the matter about which he wishes to write and, hopefully, have the reader to think upon and consider.
So let us get down to brass tacks starting with a bit of history to give some background to the matter.
In 1843 there was a man in England named Robert Clarke. Mr. Clarke at the time was a farm labourer. He was also inventive. At the time there was a musical instrument referred to as a musical whistle. Said instrument was made of wood, was of a long cylindrical shape with a fipple and six holes along the length of the barrel. It was used to play what is now called "folk" music among the poor and working class. But they were, while not expensive, not cheap. And the quality of the whistles varied from whistle to whistle depending on the skill of the maker. Mr. Clarke, being a man who was on the look out for a way to improve his lot in life, realized that the fairly new material of tin-plated steel might make a good and inexpensive substitute for the wooden whistle that would have a more consistent quality of sound and tuning than the hand made wooden whistle. Working with a blacksmith Mr. Clarke developed the tooling for what was to be later called the "tin whistle" or the "penny whistle."
As soon as Mr. Clarke got his tooling and methods to his satisfaction he and his son pushed a cart with tin whistles and the tooling to Manchester, England. On the way to Manchester they sold tin whistles and made tin whistles, and once they reached their destination they set up a small factory. Mr. Clarke called his first tin whistle from the Manchester factory The Meg. "Meg" was a slang word for a half-penny. A Clarke tin whistle was sold at the cost of a Meg or a half-penny. Below is an image of the descendant of the Meg being played by a sweeper boy.
For some reason or another, the Irish living in England took to the Clarke tin whistle. They took the whistles back to Ireland with them and there developed a musical tradition based on the tin whistle, and for near 100 years the Clarke tin whistle was the tin whistle used for Irish music. For better or worse the English forgot their own traditional music and the tin whistle came to be a thing shoved into a restless child's mouth with the order, "Go out and play." To the English the tin whistle had become a toy for children. They preferred to take on the trappings of American popular music or have their traditional music taken over by art composers such as Percy Granger and turned into something "noble" instead of on the ground. Any tin whistle music in the English media meant rural and unsophisticated much like a Jew's harp means "hillbilly" in the U.S.
The Irish, being Irish, decided that a Clarke tin whistle was a bit of an English toy. It was made, and had been made for many years, over one hundred, the same way that cheap 1950s tin plate toys were made. They were cheap and they wore out (usually the wooden fipple plug, after about eight months would fall out of the tin plate body because of the glue used to hold the fipple in the body just wore out). Never mind that a Clarke tin whistle could be purchased for less money than a couple of saxophone reeds. So the Irish decided that they would make a "better" tin whistle; a tine whistle that was more suited to Irish music. The result was an instrument made from a brass or tin plate tube with a plastic fipple and straight bore that was more shrill than the Clarke tin whistle. And it was an instrument that was more expensive than the Clarke tin whistle. Below is a photo of a Feodog tine whistle made of brass and made in Ireland.
And by the time the 1960s came along the Irish form of tin whistle was considered THE tin whistle because, well, the Irish. They seem to own the instrument these days despite the fact that in timbre the Irish form of the tin whistle is not suited for all music. And the modern Irish tin whistle costs more than the original Clarke. In fact, nowadays, many times more than the Clarke whistle. A lot of tin whistle players (mostly those playing Irish music) like the Irish form of the instrument and consider the original Clarke form as obsolete and crude despite the fact that a Clarke, by an fuss budget, can be customized and tuned in ways that Generation, Oak or Feodog whistle cannot.. And since the 1990s there have been attempts by various manufacture more and more "perfect" tin whistles. In fact, it seems that some tin whistle makers are attempting to make tine whistles that are of the same quality and tone as expensive recorders made of pear wood. But the fact of the matter is that a tin whistle, whether it is made of tin plate, brass, or even wood, is not a recorder. It is a "folk" or "traditional English/Irish" instrument. It is an instrument that was originally made for the farming and working class with a bit of bleeding over into the middle and upper classes. The Clarke was, and is, a good product. It is not perfect. But it is good, which means that the search for the perfect form of tin whistle is an exercise for the fussy and, well, really unbearable sort. To try to make a more perfect of the Clarke form of penny whistle is akin to trying to come up with a better can opener from the old cheap thing that we here at the Manor started using back in the 1950s. There's always a new and more "perfect" can opener, but despite this new wonder can opener there is always that cheap and old can opener that one goes to when one really wants to open a can and not show how modern or proper or with it one is.
The Clarke penny whistle/tin whistle is a good thing and has been good for years. It's not perfect. Nothing, even this writer, is perfect. But since the Clarke penny whistle was first manufactured during a time when there was a tradition of English "folk" music and Irish "traditional" music not infected by eggheads, it reflects, by it's manufacture and sound something that was and is and will be for a fairly cheap price compared to the modern Irish penny whistle. It is the sound of the original product. It's imperfect, And thus reflects us.
And here's a short video about the Clarke penny whistle:
The Clarke Tinwhistle Story DVD Trailer - YouTube
Saturday, September 14, 2019
A Bit of This and a Bit of That
It's been an uneventful week here at Bloody Nib Manor.
Of course, the hot weather has been bothersome. The Lovely Lady Nib, being at the same time both sturdy and delicate, has found the heat to be wilting and spends the daylight hours reclined on her rattan chaise while drinking G & Ts with more T than G. Your friend is afraid that it may remind her of her youth in the North West territories before the Partition. One can not but feel pity for her since she still insists on wearing wool next to the skin even in the hottest weather. It is not a matter of fashion versus practicality, but more a matter of habit.
And, of course, yours truly has been affected by the rays of Ol' Sol in no good way. The Harris tweed jacket, gray flannels, Wellington boots and tweed cheese-cutter cap have been put into the wardrobe and replaced by a linen jacket, white flannel trousers, Greek sandals and a Panama hat. One feels ridiculous and silly walking about the grounds in such gear, but life is often ridiculous. Our Good Lord has a sense of humor and seems to enjoy laughing at our attempts to be comfortable. He always has the last laugh and one day we'll get the joke. But at the moment not feeling comfortable loading one's Dunhill or Peterson with a bowlful of Rattray's No. 3 Old Noggin because of the heat and having to make due with Three Nuns in a Falcon pipe is no joke.
The heat always brings out the best and the worst in people. The best is that they get lethargic and the worst is that they become angry. Actually, the worst situation is that during the heat of the day they are lethargic and during the cooling of the evening they use their restored energy to commit mischief. Fortunately for the lovely Lady Nib and your correspondent the harvest is in and the granaries are full. But the heat has made the harvesters from the shire angry and resentful. But the good thing that the heat has resulted in is that, for at least this year, the workers, instead of gathering the dried straw to make torches and protest whatever ills they feel they have suffered have, instead used the straw to make straw hats for themselves and have taken to tapping their supplies of ale and cider to get some sort of relief from the heat. At least this year they are not blaming the denizens of Bloody Nib Manor for their misfortunes. Instead they yell at the Sun.
But to get on to other things:
The Swedish child, Greta Thunberg, is on a Global Warming campaign. Her talent, as it is, is to drive people, especially young people, into a panic about what she and her handlers claim is man-made global warming. Yours truly is agnostic on the issue of man-made global warming, but to be truthful, he is more a skeptic of the concept than a champion of it. Miss Thunberg wants the world, or at least the developed world to panic about man-made global warming. She has said so publicly several times. She, as young people often do, wants something done now. She claims to be autistic (or at least her parents claim so), so, in a sense one can ignore whatever she says simply because the modern definition includes several indicators; mental retardation (have you, dear reader, ever noticed that their are no mentally retarded people any more?), emotional retardation (it's now called Asperger's Syndrome), clinical narcissism or obsessive compulsive syndrome. Who knows what this poor child who at her age should be following pop groups and waiting for boys to approach her moon face is suffering from? But her parents and the lick-spittle press have made her, despite her robotic manner and repetitions, a modern day Joan of Arc sailing on a three million dollar yacht who has risked nothing. She, or her handlers, are attempting to lead a Children's Crusade against the evil man-made global warming. But, like the original Children's Crusade of the 13th century. Miss Thunberg, like the leaders of the Children's, expect that because they are innocent children they are in the right and because they see themselves in the right the world will bow before them. But once it comes down to getting the rubber on the road they are lost about what to do. She, and they, had a slogan or two, but nothing else. A slogan and a dollar will not get one a beer on a hot day.
And Miss Thunberg and her cohorts have no answers about what the average person is supposed to do to "cool" the Earth. Electric cars use as more energy in manufacture and operation than do gasoline or diesel cars. Solar panels for the powering of one house's needs are not reliable, especially in places in the Northern Hemisphere such as Sweden. Windmills break and interrupt the migration of protected birds, not to say kill more eagles and hawks than hunters do. And does she really expect Bloody Nib Manor to trade in it's Rolls Royce and Land Rover in favor of a Smart Car or a horse wagon? Does she expect China. India and Japan to go back to rickshaws, howdahs and overloaded bicycles. Does she expect, once her dream comes true, that she'll have to cross the street while stepping on horse apples and fouling her super nice and too expensive Nike shoes.
The girl is 16. She's not smart and she's not wise. She's a silly puppet who repeats what she is told. And anybody who follows the advice of a 16 year old girl or boy is really not very smart. But there are a lot of not very smart people in the world, and the talkeratti class seems to contain most of them.
While we here at Bloody Nib Manor don't spend much time paying attention to popular culture i.e. there's no novel written within the last one hundred years that is really worth reading except mysteries, popular culture, like a termite or a rat occasionally burrows itself into the baseboards of the Manor. And whenever your friend, the Lovely Lady Nib or one of the staff finds the head of the thing poking out of the wood we find ourselves rather polluted by it's appearance.
Such a pollution came to the Manor a week or so ago when it came to light that the awful Miley Cyrus was served by her husband, Liam Hemsworth with papers for a divorce. Mr. Hemsworth seems to be a rather nice young fellow with a sense of right and wrong, while Ms. Cyrus has, for many years, has shown herself as mad as an outhouse rat. Who knows what drove Mr. Hemsworth to marry such a crazy tart? Let's face it, the woman cannot even be referred to as a lively jeune fille when he married her. But tastes and hormones differ; some men like women with faint mustaches, and others like women who have been prostitutes or wantons. There is no accounting for taste.
A few weeks ago Mr. Hemsworth, after less that one year of marriage, told Miss Cyrus that he was finished with the marriage. Not coincidentally the singer formerly known as Hannah Montana told a popular magazine that she really was not a heterosexual but instead was a sort of bi-sexual (perhaps even a tri-sexual) and that she had no interest in bearing children because the world is so screwed up and on its last legs that she didn't want to add to the pain of Mother Gaia by bearing brats. Fortunately for us, she'll keep her promise and we, as a civilization, will not have to bear the burden of a third generation of bad singers singing bad songs.
And then there were several photographs published on the popular Internet of Miss Cyrus behaving with another woman in a way that no person with any common sense at all would liked to have been photographed doing. But, of course, common sense is in short supply these days, and a sense of public propriety is even more rare . But, apparently unknown to Miss Cyrus did in allowing these photographs to be taken (in fact, she posed for them) is that she told the world that her husband was not really her husband physically and that "tipping the velvet" was just as satisfying for her as marital relations with her husband. And Mr. Hemsworth finally woke up and pretty much said, "I can get better action a lot cheaper from some fishnet stockinged whore without all the craziness. At least that chick will pretend."
And despite the fact that it was Mr. Hemsworth who threw over Miley/Hannah the feminist press has reported that it was she who found her lesbian liberation by telling him to grab his hat and get out.
The Western world has gone mad because of guilt for which there is no evidence for. But we here at the Manor hold the walls up as best we can.
Of course, the hot weather has been bothersome. The Lovely Lady Nib, being at the same time both sturdy and delicate, has found the heat to be wilting and spends the daylight hours reclined on her rattan chaise while drinking G & Ts with more T than G. Your friend is afraid that it may remind her of her youth in the North West territories before the Partition. One can not but feel pity for her since she still insists on wearing wool next to the skin even in the hottest weather. It is not a matter of fashion versus practicality, but more a matter of habit.
And, of course, yours truly has been affected by the rays of Ol' Sol in no good way. The Harris tweed jacket, gray flannels, Wellington boots and tweed cheese-cutter cap have been put into the wardrobe and replaced by a linen jacket, white flannel trousers, Greek sandals and a Panama hat. One feels ridiculous and silly walking about the grounds in such gear, but life is often ridiculous. Our Good Lord has a sense of humor and seems to enjoy laughing at our attempts to be comfortable. He always has the last laugh and one day we'll get the joke. But at the moment not feeling comfortable loading one's Dunhill or Peterson with a bowlful of Rattray's No. 3 Old Noggin because of the heat and having to make due with Three Nuns in a Falcon pipe is no joke.
The heat always brings out the best and the worst in people. The best is that they get lethargic and the worst is that they become angry. Actually, the worst situation is that during the heat of the day they are lethargic and during the cooling of the evening they use their restored energy to commit mischief. Fortunately for the lovely Lady Nib and your correspondent the harvest is in and the granaries are full. But the heat has made the harvesters from the shire angry and resentful. But the good thing that the heat has resulted in is that, for at least this year, the workers, instead of gathering the dried straw to make torches and protest whatever ills they feel they have suffered have, instead used the straw to make straw hats for themselves and have taken to tapping their supplies of ale and cider to get some sort of relief from the heat. At least this year they are not blaming the denizens of Bloody Nib Manor for their misfortunes. Instead they yell at the Sun.
But to get on to other things:
The Swedish child, Greta Thunberg, is on a Global Warming campaign. Her talent, as it is, is to drive people, especially young people, into a panic about what she and her handlers claim is man-made global warming. Yours truly is agnostic on the issue of man-made global warming, but to be truthful, he is more a skeptic of the concept than a champion of it. Miss Thunberg wants the world, or at least the developed world to panic about man-made global warming. She has said so publicly several times. She, as young people often do, wants something done now. She claims to be autistic (or at least her parents claim so), so, in a sense one can ignore whatever she says simply because the modern definition includes several indicators; mental retardation (have you, dear reader, ever noticed that their are no mentally retarded people any more?), emotional retardation (it's now called Asperger's Syndrome), clinical narcissism or obsessive compulsive syndrome. Who knows what this poor child who at her age should be following pop groups and waiting for boys to approach her moon face is suffering from? But her parents and the lick-spittle press have made her, despite her robotic manner and repetitions, a modern day Joan of Arc sailing on a three million dollar yacht who has risked nothing. She, or her handlers, are attempting to lead a Children's Crusade against the evil man-made global warming. But, like the original Children's Crusade of the 13th century. Miss Thunberg, like the leaders of the Children's, expect that because they are innocent children they are in the right and because they see themselves in the right the world will bow before them. But once it comes down to getting the rubber on the road they are lost about what to do. She, and they, had a slogan or two, but nothing else. A slogan and a dollar will not get one a beer on a hot day.
And Miss Thunberg and her cohorts have no answers about what the average person is supposed to do to "cool" the Earth. Electric cars use as more energy in manufacture and operation than do gasoline or diesel cars. Solar panels for the powering of one house's needs are not reliable, especially in places in the Northern Hemisphere such as Sweden. Windmills break and interrupt the migration of protected birds, not to say kill more eagles and hawks than hunters do. And does she really expect Bloody Nib Manor to trade in it's Rolls Royce and Land Rover in favor of a Smart Car or a horse wagon? Does she expect China. India and Japan to go back to rickshaws, howdahs and overloaded bicycles. Does she expect, once her dream comes true, that she'll have to cross the street while stepping on horse apples and fouling her super nice and too expensive Nike shoes.
The girl is 16. She's not smart and she's not wise. She's a silly puppet who repeats what she is told. And anybody who follows the advice of a 16 year old girl or boy is really not very smart. But there are a lot of not very smart people in the world, and the talkeratti class seems to contain most of them.
While we here at Bloody Nib Manor don't spend much time paying attention to popular culture i.e. there's no novel written within the last one hundred years that is really worth reading except mysteries, popular culture, like a termite or a rat occasionally burrows itself into the baseboards of the Manor. And whenever your friend, the Lovely Lady Nib or one of the staff finds the head of the thing poking out of the wood we find ourselves rather polluted by it's appearance.
Such a pollution came to the Manor a week or so ago when it came to light that the awful Miley Cyrus was served by her husband, Liam Hemsworth with papers for a divorce. Mr. Hemsworth seems to be a rather nice young fellow with a sense of right and wrong, while Ms. Cyrus has, for many years, has shown herself as mad as an outhouse rat. Who knows what drove Mr. Hemsworth to marry such a crazy tart? Let's face it, the woman cannot even be referred to as a lively jeune fille when he married her. But tastes and hormones differ; some men like women with faint mustaches, and others like women who have been prostitutes or wantons. There is no accounting for taste.
A few weeks ago Mr. Hemsworth, after less that one year of marriage, told Miss Cyrus that he was finished with the marriage. Not coincidentally the singer formerly known as Hannah Montana told a popular magazine that she really was not a heterosexual but instead was a sort of bi-sexual (perhaps even a tri-sexual) and that she had no interest in bearing children because the world is so screwed up and on its last legs that she didn't want to add to the pain of Mother Gaia by bearing brats. Fortunately for us, she'll keep her promise and we, as a civilization, will not have to bear the burden of a third generation of bad singers singing bad songs.
And then there were several photographs published on the popular Internet of Miss Cyrus behaving with another woman in a way that no person with any common sense at all would liked to have been photographed doing. But, of course, common sense is in short supply these days, and a sense of public propriety is even more rare . But, apparently unknown to Miss Cyrus did in allowing these photographs to be taken (in fact, she posed for them) is that she told the world that her husband was not really her husband physically and that "tipping the velvet" was just as satisfying for her as marital relations with her husband. And Mr. Hemsworth finally woke up and pretty much said, "I can get better action a lot cheaper from some fishnet stockinged whore without all the craziness. At least that chick will pretend."
And despite the fact that it was Mr. Hemsworth who threw over Miley/Hannah the feminist press has reported that it was she who found her lesbian liberation by telling him to grab his hat and get out.
The Western world has gone mad because of guilt for which there is no evidence for. But we here at the Manor hold the walls up as best we can.
Sunday, September 08, 2019
Leading From Behind, Plus Bonus Topic: Mammy! (Or Is It Manny?)
Have you, dear reader, ever come across the writings or the mutterings on television or the wireless or a person who does not hate himself (and please know that for the sake of convenience and to respect the common usage that has been used for the past 600* years of English writing the words "he", "him", "his" etc. will be used instead of "he/she" or "them.") but who hates and holds disdain for the ethnic/racial group of which said writer has been so benighted to have found himself to be born into? And have you ever read or heard from such writer or speaker that the ethnic/racial group of which this person is involuntarily a part by an accident of birth say that the particular ethnic/racial is a cancer on the face of the Earth and really should be done away with for the benefit of Earth, all the peoples of the Earth, and all the animals of the Earth.
And, gentle reader, have you noticed that almost all the people who utter these noble ideas of self-sacrifice of an ethnic/racial group are, without exception, are white Europeans, or of white European descent in the U.S.? According to these Solons the culture that originated in Europe has done nothing since the age of Classical Greece done nothing but oppress, exploit and pollute with bad ideas and philosophies the peoples of the world, and has done nothing but just ruin the world and not letting native cultures flourish to their full glory and maturity. In other words, whites are just a world wide buzzkill and really should just step offstage in order let the world become a paradise without the influence of European culture at all.
In other words, what these products of higher learning are suggesting without stating it explicitly is that white Europeans, especially males, should exercise self-genocide for the good of humanity and the good of mother Gaia. According to this group of thinkers Europeans and European thinking have an out-sized influence on the world to the detriment or everyone else and everything else. For some reason there are no known writers from other ethnic/racial groups that suggest that their particular cohort is so problematic that it should engage in self-genocide. Only white Europeans do this. And later in this essay a more interesting observation will be brought up.
Have you, dear friend, read or heard about the Swedish "economist" who stated this past week that it may have come time for people to consider cannibalism for the good of the planet? Your faithful writer would provide a link to several articles, but why bother? It's a fact and an easily found fact. Said professor/egghead/economist was no joking and really not quite speculating. He was, in fact, proposing without explicitly proposing. It was "nod, nod, wink, wink." A sort of, "we in the know and the awfully wise know that in a few years we won't even bother to call the meat we eat Soylent Green. We'll just call it thigh of Debbie or loin of Chad. And it'll be as tasty as can be, and will save the Earth a the same time."
Needless to say, this Squarehead brainiac never said where this human flesh made for the barbecue is supposed to come from. From those who died naturally? Old age? From cancer or heart attack? Victims of murder? Or is the long pig supposed to come from suicides? Perhaps farm raised in Third World nations to feed the appetites of a bunch of Nordic herring chokers?
When this Sven/Eric/Henryck was asked by the unthinking press if he would be willing to have a lunch of Maria Parmigiana or a Pepe-roni pizza he said that he would be reluctant, but would be willing. It really was a bit of a cheap cop out on Swede's part. Academics are good at that sort of thing.
But, and here is were we come into relationship with the first part of this all-too long nattering (self-genocide). The scribes, who really are now a bunch of idiots because they are "journalists" and not cigar chomping bullshit detecting reporters, did not ask the correct question from this sorry descendent of the Vikings. They did not ask him if he was willing to take himself to the local abattoir, have a rod gun fired into his thick skull and have himself butchered for the good of the world. He expects other people to do it for his benefit and for his idea of what is good for the planet. In other words, he wants you, gentle reader, to have yourself made into Spam (one could call it Stan Spam or Pam Spam) so he can feel good about himself for being such an enlightened person. He's willing to perform the forbidden and disgusting as long as he doesn't have to do more than go to the local Aldi and pick up a package of bratwurst made of real brats. And the self-hating white crowd are the same as our enlightened Johann. The people suggesting the self-genocide of a race/ethnicity, despite belonging to that race/ethnicity are not willing to lead the way to peace on Earth by taking one for Team Earth. They want everyone else to. In other words, they see themselves so enlightened and so wise that despite their race/ethnicity (which is just Original Sin bad) that they don't have to follow their own advice. In fact, they are the people who will lead the World because they are "enlightened" whites and know what is best.
Now to get to Mammy. Those above the age of forty (and actually few under the age of fifty) may remember, or have heard about minstral shows or blackface comedy. Minstral shows originated in the 19th century and consisted of musicians and singers portraying black people. Some of the shows were made up of white people wearing blackface make-up, and other groups were actual Negroes (this writer is going to use that word because that was the word used at the time) who wore blackface make-up. Often the songs were racist (stuff about watermelons and catfish and such), and often the songs were just portrayals of an imagined South where Negroes were just a happy lot spending their spare time fishing or just singing and playing the banjo. A lot of Stephan Foster's songs were of the minstral type, sand because of that a five year old kid is prevented from singing Swanee River at the talent show. And once the movies came in there were a lot of blackface roles in the movies. One can start with Birth of a Nation in which no non-white person appeared but in which Negroes were portrayed, go through to the Jazz Singer in which Al Jolson sang Mammy while in blackface, and through the years up until about the 1970s in which blackface was played for a joke. Was the more recent blackface stuff racist? Who in the hell knows? It was funny because it was a white guy pretending to be something that he was not. And when the same guy pretended to be Chinese or Japanese it was funny because it was a white guy playing on the stereotype of the race. Nobody took it serious. Nobody though that Bob Hope in blackface or Benny Hill in "yellowface" were meant to accurately represent those groups. It was, in a sense, akin to the old visual joke about a fat girl (and this writer is well aware that there is no such thing as a "fat girl" and that nowadays fat-shaming is just not done, but your friend in an old crank) wearing a negligee, black stockings and garters and fur mules for the man who had answered the "friends wanted" column placed by a woman who claims that she was the twin of Brigitte Bardot.
Time and "enlightenment" have done away with all that blackface stuff even as jokes or parody for better or worse while white face comedy is accepted (see the previous part of this nonsense above). But have you, dear friend, noticed that there is are forms of blackface that are accepted and celebrated by the "enlightened", the liberal, the feminist and just about anyone else with less sense than God gave a goose?
What are these things? To put it simply and shortly, they are drag shows and drag queens. Drag shows and drag queens are to women what blackface was to black people. Drag shows and drag queens are parodies of women and they show women in the worst light imaginable. They are things that are based on an imagined and fantasized version of what women are in the same way that black face and minstral shows imagined what black people were like.
Nobodies complains about drag shows or drag queens. In fact, many feminists celebrate the things despite the fact that such shows and individuals concentrate on the most stereotypical and unattractive aspects of women. In the old days, before 1980, drag was done as a joke of desperation i.e. Milton Berle and Jewish retirement homes in Florida, or POW camps or submarines full of men who would appreciate anything in a skirt and stockings. Women then thought it funny or disgusting. But now they are expected to enjoy, in fact, model themselves after some swinging dick who has managed to squeeze himself into a corset and is cosmetic savvy. It's not a joke anymore, and because of political correctness it is not an insult and a dismissal of women. It is, in a since, the expression of an ultra-woman or an Ur-woman. But, in reality, it is no better or worse than black face. But the "intelligent" women and the "leading" women are so either so damn stupid or so damn "empathetic" to realize that the drag culture is making a joke of them.
But that's enough from this idiot.
* This writer considers 1400 as the tail end of Middle English and the very beginning of what is now called Modern English. Like it or not, and despite the bone-headedness of most people today, the King James Bible is considered modern English. The reader may find it a bit difficult to read, but that doesn't mean that it is not modern.
And, gentle reader, have you noticed that almost all the people who utter these noble ideas of self-sacrifice of an ethnic/racial group are, without exception, are white Europeans, or of white European descent in the U.S.? According to these Solons the culture that originated in Europe has done nothing since the age of Classical Greece done nothing but oppress, exploit and pollute with bad ideas and philosophies the peoples of the world, and has done nothing but just ruin the world and not letting native cultures flourish to their full glory and maturity. In other words, whites are just a world wide buzzkill and really should just step offstage in order let the world become a paradise without the influence of European culture at all.
In other words, what these products of higher learning are suggesting without stating it explicitly is that white Europeans, especially males, should exercise self-genocide for the good of humanity and the good of mother Gaia. According to this group of thinkers Europeans and European thinking have an out-sized influence on the world to the detriment or everyone else and everything else. For some reason there are no known writers from other ethnic/racial groups that suggest that their particular cohort is so problematic that it should engage in self-genocide. Only white Europeans do this. And later in this essay a more interesting observation will be brought up.
Have you, dear friend, read or heard about the Swedish "economist" who stated this past week that it may have come time for people to consider cannibalism for the good of the planet? Your faithful writer would provide a link to several articles, but why bother? It's a fact and an easily found fact. Said professor/egghead/economist was no joking and really not quite speculating. He was, in fact, proposing without explicitly proposing. It was "nod, nod, wink, wink." A sort of, "we in the know and the awfully wise know that in a few years we won't even bother to call the meat we eat Soylent Green. We'll just call it thigh of Debbie or loin of Chad. And it'll be as tasty as can be, and will save the Earth a the same time."
Needless to say, this Squarehead brainiac never said where this human flesh made for the barbecue is supposed to come from. From those who died naturally? Old age? From cancer or heart attack? Victims of murder? Or is the long pig supposed to come from suicides? Perhaps farm raised in Third World nations to feed the appetites of a bunch of Nordic herring chokers?
When this Sven/Eric/Henryck was asked by the unthinking press if he would be willing to have a lunch of Maria Parmigiana or a Pepe-roni pizza he said that he would be reluctant, but would be willing. It really was a bit of a cheap cop out on Swede's part. Academics are good at that sort of thing.
But, and here is were we come into relationship with the first part of this all-too long nattering (self-genocide). The scribes, who really are now a bunch of idiots because they are "journalists" and not cigar chomping bullshit detecting reporters, did not ask the correct question from this sorry descendent of the Vikings. They did not ask him if he was willing to take himself to the local abattoir, have a rod gun fired into his thick skull and have himself butchered for the good of the world. He expects other people to do it for his benefit and for his idea of what is good for the planet. In other words, he wants you, gentle reader, to have yourself made into Spam (one could call it Stan Spam or Pam Spam) so he can feel good about himself for being such an enlightened person. He's willing to perform the forbidden and disgusting as long as he doesn't have to do more than go to the local Aldi and pick up a package of bratwurst made of real brats. And the self-hating white crowd are the same as our enlightened Johann. The people suggesting the self-genocide of a race/ethnicity, despite belonging to that race/ethnicity are not willing to lead the way to peace on Earth by taking one for Team Earth. They want everyone else to. In other words, they see themselves so enlightened and so wise that despite their race/ethnicity (which is just Original Sin bad) that they don't have to follow their own advice. In fact, they are the people who will lead the World because they are "enlightened" whites and know what is best.
Now to get to Mammy. Those above the age of forty (and actually few under the age of fifty) may remember, or have heard about minstral shows or blackface comedy. Minstral shows originated in the 19th century and consisted of musicians and singers portraying black people. Some of the shows were made up of white people wearing blackface make-up, and other groups were actual Negroes (this writer is going to use that word because that was the word used at the time) who wore blackface make-up. Often the songs were racist (stuff about watermelons and catfish and such), and often the songs were just portrayals of an imagined South where Negroes were just a happy lot spending their spare time fishing or just singing and playing the banjo. A lot of Stephan Foster's songs were of the minstral type, sand because of that a five year old kid is prevented from singing Swanee River at the talent show. And once the movies came in there were a lot of blackface roles in the movies. One can start with Birth of a Nation in which no non-white person appeared but in which Negroes were portrayed, go through to the Jazz Singer in which Al Jolson sang Mammy while in blackface, and through the years up until about the 1970s in which blackface was played for a joke. Was the more recent blackface stuff racist? Who in the hell knows? It was funny because it was a white guy pretending to be something that he was not. And when the same guy pretended to be Chinese or Japanese it was funny because it was a white guy playing on the stereotype of the race. Nobody took it serious. Nobody though that Bob Hope in blackface or Benny Hill in "yellowface" were meant to accurately represent those groups. It was, in a sense, akin to the old visual joke about a fat girl (and this writer is well aware that there is no such thing as a "fat girl" and that nowadays fat-shaming is just not done, but your friend in an old crank) wearing a negligee, black stockings and garters and fur mules for the man who had answered the "friends wanted" column placed by a woman who claims that she was the twin of Brigitte Bardot.
Time and "enlightenment" have done away with all that blackface stuff even as jokes or parody for better or worse while white face comedy is accepted (see the previous part of this nonsense above). But have you, dear friend, noticed that there is are forms of blackface that are accepted and celebrated by the "enlightened", the liberal, the feminist and just about anyone else with less sense than God gave a goose?
What are these things? To put it simply and shortly, they are drag shows and drag queens. Drag shows and drag queens are to women what blackface was to black people. Drag shows and drag queens are parodies of women and they show women in the worst light imaginable. They are things that are based on an imagined and fantasized version of what women are in the same way that black face and minstral shows imagined what black people were like.
Nobodies complains about drag shows or drag queens. In fact, many feminists celebrate the things despite the fact that such shows and individuals concentrate on the most stereotypical and unattractive aspects of women. In the old days, before 1980, drag was done as a joke of desperation i.e. Milton Berle and Jewish retirement homes in Florida, or POW camps or submarines full of men who would appreciate anything in a skirt and stockings. Women then thought it funny or disgusting. But now they are expected to enjoy, in fact, model themselves after some swinging dick who has managed to squeeze himself into a corset and is cosmetic savvy. It's not a joke anymore, and because of political correctness it is not an insult and a dismissal of women. It is, in a since, the expression of an ultra-woman or an Ur-woman. But, in reality, it is no better or worse than black face. But the "intelligent" women and the "leading" women are so either so damn stupid or so damn "empathetic" to realize that the drag culture is making a joke of them.
But that's enough from this idiot.
* This writer considers 1400 as the tail end of Middle English and the very beginning of what is now called Modern English. Like it or not, and despite the bone-headedness of most people today, the King James Bible is considered modern English. The reader may find it a bit difficult to read, but that doesn't mean that it is not modern.
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