Mental graffiti of a sporadically sarcastic rat who's finally quit the UK's race and now Canadian Citizen on the wet coast of British Columbia, Canada. Resigned to a certain sense of all the posts on this blog having a particular quality of déjà vu. Again.
All written material Copyright Bill Sticker 2007-2011,
whatever.
Links are fine, but the words are mine
Bimbling around linked sites today, I dropped in at 'An Englishman's Castle' to see what Tim was up to. He had an article about a complaint from someone in Alton, Hampshire UK about 'Youths on the village green'. He'd made ironic (What I thought was ironic) comment about newcomers complaining about whatever in a village. In storms one commenter with a long post about the complainant being a pillar of the community etc to which I mildly pointed out that Tims comment had to be a gag. Don't take my word for it, go here to read. You probably have to have had a rural upbringing to appreciate the humour, but to get all defensive like that; well, I'll leave it to anyone who can be bothered to read it to decide.
Another commenter, similarly in humour failure mode, took issue with me and virtually accused me of being a Nulabour apparatchik. Yes, you John Malpas, if that is indeed your name and not some nom de keyboard. I have replied to your malevolence in humorous vein, indicating my dismay and displeasure at being associated with that bunch of Fabian fuckwits. Let it be known; I have never, ever had any tacit or overt connection, nor have I ever sympathised with, or had anything to do with, the parliamentary Labour party in any of it's guises. They are in my eyes, traitors all against the Crown and people of Britain. They (Brown, Blair, Straw, Harman, Balls, Milliband et al) top the poll in my 'Heads I would like to see on spikes on London Bridge'. See sidebar. I have already cast my ballot.
Love this new spotter scope we've been lent. Sunrise this morning found me gazing out over Round Island, noting that both local nesting pairs of Bald Eagles were roosting over there for a change.
Watched a red hulled Fisheries vessel pootle down towards Thetis. Been a lot of them recently. Normally speaking we hardly see them, but for the past few days they've appeared to be aggressively patrolling the Narrows and inner passage. There's a conservation area south of Round Island to the bottom of Link, and I suppose with the current runs of fish, they're making sure the local fishermen don't stray where they shouldn't.
Did have a look at the news from over the water, but all I can see is the same shit, different day. New Labours political scorched earth policy making life ever more restrictive and unpleasant for the UK's inhabitants. I suppose the Fabian scumbuckets think they can't win the next election so they'll fuck the country just to make trouble for the next government. I'm sure the Tories are aware of this, and if they win an overall majority they'll be taking on a real poison chalice. Happened in the 70's, and despite all hope to the contrary it's happening again.
Quite frankly I can't be arsed to get angry with it any more. My ties with the UK are growing ever more tenuous and there's much less to get peeved about this side of the world. Apart from the long wait for Immigration to do their thing and tick our final box.
In the meantime I shall fill the non-working time watching Bald Eagles and taking long walks to fill the unforgiving minute.
We have just seen our first of many house guests safely back home after an overnight visit and hearty breakfast. Verdicts are favourable, and praise for the hospitality at Chez Sticker effusive. Visitors book has been signed and smiles all round.
Drank far too much last night. Guests and I got quite smashed and a bit silly on a nice bottle of Syrah each, although I was far drunker than they were. That is strange. Used to be able to sling a bottle of wine down my throat without blinking. Although nowadays I don't drink for weeks on end. Maybe I'm just not used to the booze any more?
Referring to the Specific Heat Capacity of Gases, these video's provide empirical proof that the CO2 based model of Anthropogenic, or Man Made Global Warming isn't a good one. Shades of R W Woods experiment from the 1900's. Four years later just prior to World War 1, World renowned Physicist Niels Bohr reported his discovery that the absorption of specific wavelengths of light didn’t cause gas atoms/molecules to become hotter. It's in the Physics textbooks, guys.
There you have it. Proper scientific method and empirical evidence trumps Computer modelling and wishful thinking, taking both the trick and the game. For people who get in my face and 'tell' me that periodic climate shifts are all down to mankind and we're all doomed unless we flush technology, and by proxy our comfortable standard of living, down the toilet; I say, show, don't tell. Show me. Come on. I'm not an unreasonable man. I can be persuaded. Demonstrate that enhanced CO2 levels are a primary climate driver. Not with computer models, but with a real, small scale experiment as above. Although I have the feeling that any such demonstration would end up like one of those old Tomorrow's World experiments with Raymond Baxter, Judith Hann and Michael Rodd. It wouldn't work.
The truth, as they say, has been out there all along. Not that a demonstration of the actual physics will convince 'true believers' or anyone whose grant or tenure relies on the whole AGW / MMGW boondoggle. They have too much to lose to let mere facts get in the way. The public however, is catching on. If certain politicians don't wake up and small the coffee soonish, they'll be out on their ears. Fortunately, we have the Harper Government over here, which likes to drag it's heels on this issue and may thus be the saving of Canada. Although what we'll do if our biggest market to the south goes belly up might cause short term issues. We could always sell to the Chinese market. They have real money.
Now can we simply do something about air and water pollution and overfishing? Which are more important issues than a trace atmospheric gas essential to the life of plants.
One cool piece of kit which beats the hell out of the snowblowers they sell at Canadian Tire and elsewhere. The speed this webcam equipped robot can clear sidewalks looks awesome. My brother in law, who lives in Minnesota (Where they know about snow and cold) says he wants one for next Winter. He might even make a few extra bucks hiring it out.
Nor was there a clipboard to be seen, or 'elf 'n safety officer involved in its making.
Phone call from family in the UK this morning; having received regular updates on our progress in the immigration stakes, eldest brother was almost complimentary. His take on the erosion of civil liberties and increasing tax take in the UK; "You're not missing anything."
Indeed, dear sibling indeed. You know it's all going terribly wrong over there when the Russians are saying stuff like this. I mean, Pravda for crying out loud! The one time home of the greatest tractor statistics reporting in the entire world.
Mind you, on our day trip over to Vancouver the other week, we noted that the Russians did appear to be the richest partygoers in town. How the world turns, eh?
Watching the current UK Government's scorched Earth policy from this side of the planet, I have been disturbed to find that my old NHS health records may soon be made available online for the world and his wife to gawp at. Unless of course you want to 'opt out'. There is a twelve week deadline, and if like me you aren't sure what address your 'opt out' letter went to, you won't have been notified.
For emigrants like me this is a concern. What about medical confidentiality, what about your right to a 'private life' as supposedly enshrined (and so often ignored) in EU Human Rights legislation? This walks all over it with size 12 workboots.
Now obviously I don't live in the UK any more, but I don't want every council busybody able to access my confidential medical records on the grounds that it's none of their fucking business. For example, I do not want to have to go back to the UK for family reasons only to have some clipboard wielding council official enquiring about the state of my feet for example (Incidentally, they're fine, the tendon injuries caused by walking up to 20 miles a day in unsuitable council issue footwear has cleared up nicely thankyou). Yes I know that's a bit of a reach, but people without proper medical training should not have ready access to such information as they do not have either the experience nor the knowledge to form credible opinions. Only Doctors should have that power.
Putting your health records online in the UK National Health Service's notoriously leaky and surprisingly unsecure data infrastructure is the worst idea on this planet. ID thieves must be positively salivating with anticipation.
If you don't want your personal medical record published online by the UK's NHS, you have less than twelve weeks to do so. This link will take you to the form which will allow you to opt out of the process. Mine will be filled out and my families details removed from said online travesty, providing the temporary clerk with limited English language skills they hire to do the job doesn't fuck up, which is more likely than not. However, despite my justifiable cynicism, the form goes priority air mail tonight.
Big 'Herring run' locally on Sunday. Bald Eagles all over the damn place, patches of pink surfaced sea bigger than five acre fields each in the narrows, California Sea Lions rolled on their back with their flippers in the air from eating too much Herring. Acre sized rafts of Gulls sitting on the water too bloated with fish to fly. Working affairs precluded me getting the fishing rod out and joining in the bumper harvest, but I now have a new toy in the shape of a 60x spotter scope with a promise of a camera attachment for when I actually get a new camera.
Pictures of our local Eagles nest will follow when the set up is complete, although any pictures of Baby Bald Eagles will have to wait until August when they start to fledge.
In the local paper today there was a cartoon showing the end of the Dinosaurs with a Tyrannosaur holding up a placard saying "There is no such thing as global warming". Being a contrary soul, I have my own little missive in a similar vein.
When the truth stamps on your tail, it is the smart saurian that examines the evidence and says, "Well maybe it ain't gonna get hotter after all." and begins preparations for a long cold spell. While those doomed to extinction keep on regurgitating the same "We're all dooomed" mantra while still wearing T-shirts and shorts and not putting stuff aside for the hard times to come, or expecting someone else to do it all for them.
My money is still on a Dalton like event over the next thirty years or so.
A proper climate change debate, a bit long at 89 minutes, but informative nonetheless. Redfearn was out of order for making sidelong personal attacks when the whole idea was to debate the science. Plimer was also mocking of the other side. The only people to come out on top were Monckton and Brooke, who debated the subject, not the personalities.
Errata: Apologies for getting Redfearn and Brooke mixed up. Smacked wrists.
Update: Monckton seemed to come out on top as he actually explained what he was doing rather than taking Brooke's "It's far too complicated for non-specialists to understand, I'm the expert." Plimer should have stuck to explaining his work rather than the personal jabs. As for Redfearn; well, he came across as a propagandist, nothing more.
I'm also laughing at the tales of climate doom about a massive release of Methane from undersea deposits of crystalline Methane Hydrate (a.k.a Methane Clathrate). Now this idea has been kicking around since the 70's, with speculation on how one nation could cause mega catastrophe by dropping a Nuclear weapon onto said deposits. First published in 'Weather War' by Leonard Leokum and Paul Posnik. Now the idea has resurfaced with another eco-thriller covering the same theme. Frozen Fire, by Bill Evans & Marianna Jameson, published July 2009 . The idea of massive methane release was earlier used as the backbone theme in ‘Mother of Storms’ by John Barnes, published in 1995. At least Mr Barnes was honest enough to publish his as science fiction. The others belong in the 'occult' section of the bookstore along with Erich von Daniken's codswallop about aliens building the pyramids and suchlike.
The real story behind Methane Clathrate is that we don't know all that much. To quote this paper from the USGS;
Apparently there was a naked bungee jump for charity south of town last week. Just as well they did it while the weather was mild, as the chill that has whipped in recently might have seen the exposure significantly reduced, if you know what I mean.
The news from the UK continues to fall into the category of 'Is this some political kamikaze thing or what?' The Tories seem determined to lose the next election. Brown and his cronies seem dead set on sinking the UK into a slough from whence it will be painful to extricate itself. From over here the bloated UK state and all it's local government departments resemble a sink estate fortysomething 'mum' with a bad chip habit. A mass of lethargic, bad tempered cellulite that knows all it's 'rights' but is too lazy and ill tempered to do anything in return.
Doing a lot of 'lurking' at the moment on UK blogs. Just reading posts and making little comment because it's almost too painful to assimilate. Are things really that bad and the politicians so detached from the electorate? Although a quick phone call to Ma Sticker tells me that yes, it's worse. State intervention in the day to day of the UK's citizenry appears endemic. The busybodies are trying to regulate everything, food, drink, even air, with a perverted clipboard carrying mentality which claims to know the price of everything, but the value of nothing. Oh what the hell, this is what happens when you let the 'there should be a law agin it' crowd have their head. I'd get depressed only I'm over here, and not there.
Was taking a break from the working day this morning, leaned on the rail to enjoy BC's bright silken morning air. I was moved to literary transport,and Hamlet's famous soliloquy rolled through my forebrain. With of course my own idiosyncratic commentary.
To be or not to be – that is the question: Who and what is this shit? Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Is it better to roll over and take shit? Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them. What am I going to do about all this shit? To die, to sleep No more – and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th’ oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, If I killed myself would all the shit go away? But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveler returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? But what if this shit is all there is? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.—Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered. If I do nothing, or say nothing, what kind of cowardly shit does that make me?
As acted by Ethan Hawke (What is all this shit and why do people rent it?):
And more traditionally by Kenneth Branagh (I can make all previous versions look like shit):
And Mel Gibson's performance (Despite objections in the comments, not shit at all):
Even Schwarzenegger has had a go (Taking no shit whatsoever):
Taking time out from work to sit on our admittedly chilly but sunbathed porch today, Mrs S and I were hailed from across the fence and received two invitations to a 'Happy Hour'. From total strangers no less. We've missed all this stuff because we've mainly been snuggled down next to a toasty log fire and not been getting out and about as much as we should. That and work has taken up most of our daylight hours. Yet our new neighbours have been uncompromisingly welcoming, and I hope to be returning all favours shortly as soon as Mrs S deems our new domicile ready for polite company.
The only downside at present is that like so many ex-pats we're economising because the nosediving pound is ablating our capital, and there's nothing we can do about it at the moment. Well we could, but the immigration rules say that until we get that last tick in the box we can't import the rest of our money. This has proved very frustrating and highly expensive. It just means we've got to work harder when we're allowed to.
Chores, chores, chores. Migrate to a new country, navigate complex immigration rules, restrictions on work prevent earning additional income to make up shortfalls. Well no one said it would be easy.
The UK's proposed digital economy bill is an iniquitous piece of proposed legislation that should be buried at a crossroads at midnight with a stake through it's wicked heart. I say Bill, that's a bit strong isn't it? After all, you won't be affected by it over on your side of the world.
True,as a copyright holder I should be bang alongside all these big companies who can see their revenue streams being eroded but I'm not. File sharing is free publicity, as the Python team found out in their own words;
For 3 years you YouTubers have been ripping us off, taking tens of thousands of our videos and putting them on YouTube. Now the tables are turned. It's time for us to take matters into our own hands.
We know who you are, we know where you live and we could come after you in ways too horrible to tell. But being the extraordinarily nice chaps we are, we've figured a better way to get our own back: We've launched our own Monty Python channel on YouTube.
No more of those crap quality videos you've been posting. We're giving you the real thing - HQ videos delivered straight from our vault.
What's more, we're taking our most viewed clips and uploading brand new HQ versions. And what's even more, we're letting you see absolutely everything for free. So there!
But we want something in return.
None of your driveling, mindless comments. Instead, we want you to click on the links, buy our movies & TV shows and soften our pain and disgust at being ripped off all these years.
Simple business sense. When offered free advertising, smile and welcome everyone to the party. It's no good having the rights to the most fabulous piece of music or prose ever if no-one is allowed to see even a sample without coughing up. There's gold in them thar vids, pardner!
Well I knew this situation was coming back in 2005, which is one of the reasons Mrs S and I are abandoning HMS UK, but to see someone banged up for breaching an arbitrary ban whilst more serious offenders go free is still a bit of a shock to the system. This isn't just about smoking, it's about the simple liberty to run your own life. There's a collection for Mr Hogan over at Old Holborns blog. Help if you can.
Update: Not only can someone be prosecuted for allowing people to smoke on their premises, you can apparently be prosecuted for publicly disagreeing with the legislation. The phrases 'heavy handed' and 'completely over the top' seem to be quite apposite.
As an aside, I mentioned the aforementioned to a work buddy who quipped that I should have applied for political asylum, as I would have had my Canadian Citizenship by now had I done so. Not with my luck.
I'd better send my Mother warning her about this in my next letter. On the other hand I'd be better off phoning.
Over here I've finished cutting and stacking all our logs into firewood for next year so it will be dry for heating. I reckon we've got until early June until our Permanent Residency kicks in and we can start taking all the work we've had to turn down. With the pound currently in a nosedive, I just hope our sterling reserves don't get too depleted. This is not good.
Pedro Delgado wrote: "There are simply too many people on the planet." Peter Hitchcock wrote: "The elephant in the room is that there are already too many people for this planet." Lucius Malfoy wrote: "Surprise surprise! What we need is 2 billion less people not new fuels."
Another commenter, similarly in humour failure mode, took issue with me and virtually accused me of being a Nulabour apparatchik. Yes, you John Malpas, if that is indeed your name and not some nom de keyboard. I have replied to your malevolence in humorous vein, indicating my dismay and displeasure at being associated with that bunch of Fabian fuckwits. Let it be known; I have never, ever had any tacit or overt connection, nor have I ever sympathised with, or had anything to do with, the parliamentary Labour party in any of it's guises. They are in my eyes, traitors all against the Crown and people of Britain. They (Brown, Blair, Straw, Harman, Balls, Milliband et al) top the poll in my 'Heads I would like to see on spikes on London Bridge'. See sidebar. I have already cast my ballot.
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