I do not have much to report today. It’s my birthday, and I’m in seventh heaven. It is perhaps testimony o my geekiness that I’m so happy about my presents: namely, Blue planet and the final season of enterprise. This means that after I get bored exploring this planet, I can explore others. However, after four hours in front of the

TV, that’s enough probably Attenborough and archer for now. [insert squeal of joy here]

Yesterday, while I was eating dinner in the wes, I caught sight of a Newsround report about the childline awards. Needless to say, I was quite uninterested until I saw a familiar face – or rather, two familiar faces. For his work as a role model, Beth had nominated Toby Hewson for an award. It was quite a surprise to see them both on telly, and I pointed it out to bill.

This award couldn’t have gone to a nicer guy. Great stuff.

link.

It now seems it’s all going pear-shaped for Tony Blair. I really think he suffered irreparable damage last night when he had to rely on Tory votes to get his education bill through. Surely this is a sign of a prime minister in his death throes.

Mind you, I am still voting labour. Cameron, for all his ‘nice guy’ image, is still a Tory, and is also anti-inclusion. This latter fact means I most definitely cannot vote for him, although I use that example as a metonym too.. It also leads me to strongly suspect that his ‘nice guy’ image is just that – an image. Beneath that Gilderoy Lockhart smile is still a Tory who believes in segregation, among many other foolish things. My one fear apropos politics today is that people will be taken in by this new charismatic Tory leader after looking at the sinking ship that the Blair government has become.

Thus I hope Blair resigns soon. Labour needs a new leader to defend against Cameron. Someone with charisma enough to win back voters, as I don’t think they realise a Tory with a nice smile is still a Tory.

I went to the alsager arms last night, and although we did not win, I was very amused. Our winning the last two weeks seems to have caused quite a stir with the locals: about mid-evening, Steve informed me that the barman had asked if my lightwriter was connected to the net. Obviously some people had suspected me of cheating. While it is worth noting that some modern VOCAs do indeed have internet and Bluetooth connections, my lightwriter (which my friends, btw, have taken to calling Colin) is not that sophisticated. Moreover, Switch is now banned from picking the key. I suspect the locals are starting to eye us students with great suspicion.

After we won £350 in the last two weeks, is it any wonder why? Me and Colin are very amused by it all.

This one will be a moan. I really am pissed off over something that occurred at lunchtime: I got the ‘it’s such a shame’ treatment from one of the kitchen staff. Basically he told Esther that it was a pity about me and apparently ‘he’s very clever’. He then proceeded to try to wipe my mouth without my permission. This, of course, was in full view of most of my friends (who mercifully paid no attention). It was nevertheless embarrassing. Do I look like I am 5? I came within a hare’s breath of losing my rag and attempting to decapitate this sod. It’s just so humiliating. People assume I’m stupid.

But, as Margaret Atwood wrote, ‘Context is all’. I read this morning of how medical experiments done to disabled kids in institutions. See this, for instance. The poor kid must have been in agony. While I must admit I am pro animal testing, opening me up to accusations of hypocrisy, I believe this must, if at all possible, be replaced with other means, and experiments such as those described in this article should never be carried out. So, wile I maintain it is my right to be deeply affronted by this guy, I must remind myself that there are far far darker things.

This morning we watched ‘Alphaville’, it is a film by Jean-Luc Godard, and my tutor said it is a good film. I think however, that is only because it is in French, were it in English not directed by Godard, I would have been undoubtedly forgotten. It has the plot of a particularly bad B-movie. It is highly derivative and although there were some interesting shots, most of the shooting made no sense. What were the flashing E = mc2 signs about? Also, there was poetry inserted which seemed to serve no purpose other than to be pretentious. I know I’m probably being a luddite, but this movie really did suck.

Yesterday, Luke – having come home on the frankly dubious premise that he wanted to avoid having to go out Friday night – showed me this web-animation. Now, I know that such animation is unusually very odd, but this is odder than most; especially given the reason for it’s creation.

Esther just emailed this stuff on bond. We are both big bond fans: she says I got her into it, and sometimes I wonder what I have started. Anyway, casino royale looks good; I especially like the concept of taking bond back to his roots, and I find the prospect of having him fallible interesting. It looks like the ambiance and mise-en-scene of this movie should me more rugged, less fantasy-like, which might take the franchise in a new direction. Something to look forward to.

Thanks Esther!

Why uni doesn’t organise any more open mic nights I do not know. There was one last night in brandies, and it ruled. I never had more fun. The quality of the music was good, and the group of friends I belong to were all there. Most notable was a rendition of ‘Black horse and the cherry tree’, which is one of the coolest, sassiest songs ever written, and my friend Richard (a person way too cool for brandies) and his mates played some Santana tracks, which rocked…like…totally!

Probably the highlight of the evening, and the coolest thing I have seen in a long time, came at the end when Steve got up and sang a version of ‘Sweet home Alabama.’ Steve didn’t have the words, so the song was simply ‘sweet home Alsager / where the weather’s always shit’, repeated over and over. This isn’t the point though: that tune rocked. There was a shithot guitarist; the bass guitar rocked. Basically it all ruled.

I decided today to get together with Chris and Steve in order to lay down some lyrics to ‘sweet home Alsager’. Chris is, it must be said, a great lyric writer, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

God I love university. It is a disgrace that, because of the failures of the special school system, so few fellow disabled people get to go.

further to the scandal about the ending of the CAP (and scandal it is) I just got this quite terrific email from home. whether It’ll achieve anything remains to be seen

[quote=”dad”]Matthew,

You have had a letter from Ann Winterton [mp for conleton] to say that she has signed the early day motion on Scope’s campaign, and she will contact you as soon as there is more information.

Love

Dad

[/quote] sometimes i like it when my parents open my mail. hmmm…

Lightning, it seems, can strike twice. Rather incredibly, last night’s pub quiz had exactly the same result as last week. We won, for the second week in a row. This week the jackpot was £100, which, divided between the 6 of us, means I should be £16.66 better off, but the barman, rather dodgily, said he was not authorised to give us the cash. We should get it a week on Friday, when the landlord returns from holiday.

Whether we’ll ever see this money, I’m not sure, but I can’t believe our luck. Steve and Chris say I am lucky, but I just find it all highly amusing.

There has been wide press coverage of this story about a baby with spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), who doctors say should be allowed to die because he has no ‘quality of life’. Says who!? Such statements piss me off, as surely the only person qualified to speak on the quality of one’s life is oneself. Many people would say that, because I have CP, I have less quality of life – they would be wrong. I love my life. Because this child has nothing to compare it with, he may well love his life too.

I risk here being accused of aligning myself with right wing pro-lifers, but I think I am remaining liberal in saying his infant should be kept alive. It is more right wing, in my opinion, in saying he should be allowed to die just because he does not conform to what some people think is a quality life.

The fact remains we have no way of determining what this child feels, and thus he should be given the benefit of the doubt.

It seems I might – just might – have spoken too soon. I mourned the passing of star trek last night, but it may not be dead. Shatner is writing a pilot episode to the sixth incarnation. it might suck, but star trek is far from dead, it seems. go here. moreover, I read yesterday that richard branson has decided on a name for his first commercial space ship. what else could he call it but Enterprise.

Television, at it’s best, can inspire. I find the nature shows David Attenborough presents very inspirational, and the travel shows of Michael Palin, because they remind me of how tremendously beautiful our planet is, from wide, deep seas to the great mountains, shouldered by cloud.

Yet our planet, circling an uninteresting star, will be only one in one hundred million planets. These we cannot reach yet, but humans have this tremendous capacity to imagine. Until we can exceed the speed of light we will not be able to explore the heavens, so we must be content with our imagination. This too has the capacity to inspire.

Such imaginings inspire me. Since I was five or six, I have been an avid fan of star trek. All my family were. Star trek night was the only night we ate dinner in front of thee TV. I’m not sure what, but something within The Next generation caught my attention profoundly – perhaps it was the promise of the future where man settled his petty differences and worked as one to better himself, to peruse science, to explore. I was held captive by the stories of Jean-Luc Picard as he explored the stars; Benjamin Sisco as he fought the dominion; Kathryn Janeway [nauseatingly stupid though she was] and Jonathan Archer, the last and first of the captains. And then there is James T. Kirk, who I know mostly through the films yet who I loved also. These five captains, with their five series, combined to make an epic future history which has inspired millions.

It has brought myself, personally, so much joy. I rank First Contact among my favourite films, and the Ahab scene is my favourite scene in all of cinema (but don’t tell my film lecturer). I loved the epic battle scenes of the latter half of DS9. I love how Kirk and Picard fought together in generations. The list goes on, but, in short, the whole Trek cycle – the films and TV programmes – have brought me so much joy: they have inspired me.

On clear nights, I look up at the stars. They are beautiful. I remark that one day we will travel among them, but that certainty is born of hope. This hope is, in turn, gleamed from star trek, and each time I look up I hear the theme tune to next generation. Yet this certainty comforts me.

Tonight I watched the last episode of enterprise. It ended with the very birth of the federation, bringing star trek full circle. Thus my pleasant dream ends, and I cannot help but feel sad. I cannot believe there will be no more – it has brought me so much hope, so much fun, like the times I spent talking about ds9 to Andy Fox, who was an avid trekkie.

The last episode ends with a montage of the three main enterprise ships – NX-01, NCC 1701 and NCC 1701 D – and their captains – Kirk, Picard and Archer taking turns to recite the following immortal lines:

‘Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

Not a bad ending, but now we must make sure it comes true. As captain Picard once said: ‘Let’s see what’s out there.’

I know those of you who care probably have already visited the site, but I would like to point you in the direction of the ‘planet earth’ website. The pop-up window strikes me as particularly impressive in terms of technical achievement – you can whiz round the earth, which spins as a graphic, and click on certain sites for the video footage recorded there. Well, it’s exciting to me.

Yes, I know I’m sad!

In our modern era letters have become emails, and the yearly letters I remember my aunt sending from Brazil at Christmas are now supplemented by weekly emails. These letters my aunt sends to my grandmother, mother, uncles and cousins have a metaphysical smell – they reek of oranges and melons and cupuacou and everything my aunt sells in her shop.

Today, her weekly email was on the kitchen table. My father had printed it off, and had left it for me to read. It goes out to all the family. This week, aunt Toula describes watching carnival on TV from Rio, and the harvest from my uncle’s farm, and the sun beating down on the roof of the shop. It is snowing outside, and it’s about freezing, but the email conjured up images to me of the wider world. Although my essay, printed from the same printer just hours earlier, did not smell, reading the email I could detect the faint aroma of oranges and couprasou.

I thought I would bring you up to speed on my recent intellectual exploits. I suspect some of you get the impression that I come to university to drink and do pub quizzes; this is not so. I only do that in the evening – the day is for work.

I have begun writing my end-of-year film essay. It’s 2500 words, so I began it early. It is fascinating work. So far, I have set myself up in two, largely paradoxical, positions: I state that film has a grammar, which, if broken, would render a filmic text unreadable. However, I cite Metz in saying that film cannot be seen to constitute a language, as the shot-as-word analogy breaks down under analysis. What, then, is this thing with a grammar but is not a language? This is where I left my essay last night, having used up 1600 words already. I used to fear large word counts, but now 2500 does not seem enough.

Time to go look up protolanguages!

This morning, I woke up with a huge smile and a small hangover. No, I haven’t slept with anyone, but this was almost as cool. Last night, I went to the alsager arms pub quiz – my first ever pub quiz. My mates usually go, and I asked yesterday if I could join them. They said yes.

There were about 9 of us. I didn’t have much hope of winning, and treated it as just a bit of fun. Mostly, the questions were on celebrities, soaps and sport, which I know nothing of, but there were some general knowledge. I answered that the Yangtze flowed through china, and bamboo was the tallest grass, so I was pleased I could contribute.

This is especially pleasing given that our group won by one point! When that was announced, we all erupted. Cool or what? However, we then had a choice: either we could take away the prize of a vat of beer, or gamble for £250. we chose to gable.

This meant that one of us had to select a key from 7 in a bag, only one of which could open a safe. Switch did the choosing, and selected a key. At first, all seemed lost: the barman, a consummate showman, made it seem like the key wouldn’t fit. I turned away: oh well, I thought, remember what Kipling wrote.

Just then, my friends erupted for the second time. I turned back to see the box open! We had won, and the money was ours! It was the coolest thing ever! Then there was nothing left to do but to return to our table to divide the cash. I am, this morning, £27 better off.

Beer then flowed. We felt rich. I asked Steve if I should go with them again next Tuesday. He answered that he would kill me if I didn’t, or something to that effect! I had an excellent evening, and will certainly go again.

Now to go spend the winnings!

There is something I feel I ought to record. It is vulgar and crass, but it struck me as also being very witty (if that’s not too much of an oxymoron. In the men’s loo of the canteen of the MMU Crewe campus, on the back of one of the cubicle doors, amid statements that so-and-so was here, and so-and-so loves Jane, somebody once wrote:

The shithouse poet Strikes again, this time In haiku form.

This particular piece of graffiti made me laugh. It was vulgar, which is a prerequisite for graffiti, yet artful. It alluded to wit, and was self-reflexive, as if to say ”we university students can be as crass as anyone, but we do it with style and wit”. Sadly, I noted today that the cleaners had bee, and the cleaners have no respect for art or irony. The poem was gone, but not forgotten. This must seem crass of me, but I just thought this poem, by an anonymous author, was worth recording. Go here for more on haiku

oops. made aa double post earlier, and I can’t delete posts, so why not go here while I find something senssible to say

Some fool made this. I do not know who, but they were / are obviously quite skilled in flash. However, flash only exists as a tool for making idiotic rubbish. This time, the fool has adulterated To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee’s classic; there are no ninjas or flying sharks in the original, nor are there pirates. However, the film is very funny, and has a good soundtrack. Someone went to a lot of effort to make this. The question is why.

Poor old Americans. How were they supposed to know that, soon after they invaded, sorry liberated, Iraq, it would decent into chaos? Of course they weren’t to know that they were removing the only thing stopping the two factions from killing each other. They were trying to do the Iraqis a favour! Now look. Oh no, it’s not America’s fault, and certainly not bush’s. he isn’t to blame for the seemingly endless bloodshed.

And if you believe that you’ll believe anything. Did nobody in the white house have the foresight to predict this? Or did they predict it and just not give a fuck? Either way, it’s scary that these intellectual cretins are running America, and therefore the world.

today I’d like to send you to two links. They’re both totally different but equally cool. First, I’d like to point out that the bbc has a new minisite for planet earth, which can be found here. the site itself is decidedly unimpressive, but, from looking at the reports, the programme itself should be fantastic!

Second, my little bro sent me a link to an independent news agency on the web which posts some very good reports which seem to concern how fucked up the current bush administration is. so, no news there, but a healthy dose of cynicism nonetheless. echo chamber project

I’m afraid this is going to sound like another of my adverts for the beeb, but last night I was sitting, rather bored in my room, and found you could watch entire episodes of comedy shows on the ‘net. How cool is that? I managed to watch Two pints of Larger and a packet of Crisps – of which I have always been a bit of a fan, although it’s not as funny as it used to be – and a strange Sketch show called Tittybangbang, which was weird but ok for having on while one is changing for bed.

I think this is rather cool – where else can you stream new comedy programmes? No doubt the likes of Rupert Murdoch will be complaining, and it probably won’t be long before the bbc stops it, but while it lasts I will enjoy it. Yes, TV is, these days, mostly idiotic tripe, but I still enjoy the odd programme before bed.

I love watching train crashes; It’s aa morbid fascination of mine. well, not literally, but metaphorical train crashes, such as when the tories destroy themselves after recent general elections. The debate over ID in america is particularly goo, for the battle is so one sided. the creationists keep piping up every now and again, only to be shown to be utter fools. It’s as funny as it is dangerous.

anyway, here’s the latest report

Here’s a prime example of “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus” offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix:

The professor told his class one day: “Today we will xperiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to

me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. there is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a onclusion has been reached.”

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students:

Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY:

(first paragraph by Rebecca)

At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. “A.S. Harris to

Geostation 17,” he said into his transgalactic ommunicator. “Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far…” But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship’s cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)

He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4.

“Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,” Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. “Why must one lose one’s innocence to become a woman?” she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)

Little did Laurie know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu’udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu’udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President,

in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)

This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)

Oh, yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. “Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F-ING

TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I’m such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!” (Rebecca) A-hole.

(Gary)

B-tch

(Rebecca)

F-YOU – YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)

Go drink some tea – whore.

(TEACHER)

A+ – I really liked this one.

further to my little rant about the end of the cap, please please can you all go to the following adress ad write to your member of paliament. It is very important PLEASE go here

“Even more important than the freedom of speech, is the freedom to speak”. Professor Stephen Hawking, ACE Centre Patron .

A blonde calls her boyfriend and says, ”Please come over here and help me. I have a killer jigsaw puzzle, and I can’t figure out how to get it started ”

Her boyfriend asks, ”What is it supposed to be when it’s finished?”

The blonde says, ”According to the picture on the box, it’s a tiger.”

Her boyfriend decides to go over and help with the puzzle.

She lets him in and shows him where she has the puzzle spread all over the table.

He studies the pieces for a moment, then looks at the box, then turns to her and says: –

”First of all, no matter what we do, we’re not going to be able to assemble

these pieces into anything resembling a tiger.” He takes her hand and says ”Second, I want you to relax. Let’s have a nice cup of tea, and then…..”he sighed, ”let’s put all these Frosties back in the box”

NB – I do not discriminate by hair colour, but it’s just funny!

at last, here’s proof that sleeping helps you make decisions. I’ve been saying for a long time that sleeping is good for you; it’ll also explain my urge to do more of it, although that could be just down to how much i drank last night. i’m off to bed.

The problem with credit cards, I have decided, is tax. The item I ordered from the internet on Monday came today with a massive ten pounds added for tax. Mind you, some of that’s probably postage charge too. Thus £17.45 became £28.45. that’s the last time I’m making that mistake! If it’s going to cost extra they should say so, preferably in big letters. It’s not as if I’m against tax – I am, after all, a nominal leftie – but it just gets you down when you realise how much the things you want really cost.

I need a job. no two ways about it

Westminster has tonight voted to ban smoking in pubs in England. As a non-smoker, I greet this news with open arms. While I love pubs, many times has my meal been ruined by the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. Now we can all eat and drink in clean air. Yay!

This news is dire. It concerns the ending of the communication aids project, which ensures children get the devices they need to communicate with the outside world. If this funding stops, these kids might not get the equipment they need. I am simply appalled, and speechless: I’m not sure what to do, or how I can help, or whether a new scheme will be put into place. But this funding simply must not stop, or do these kids mean nothing to the beurocrats in Westminster, who talk all day without realising how precious the ability to do so is? It’s sickening that anyone would put money before something like this -how can they even sleep?

What can w do to stop CAP ending?

Incidentally, Adam and his mum, Jenny are mentioned here.

I’ve made another foray into independence, or bankruptcy, although some say one will always lead to the other. Today I worked out how to use my credit card, on-line at least. It was the first time I have ever done so, but, while I cannot guarantee it won’t be my last, I won’t do it too often. I kind of find it scary: what if I find I can’t pay, and end up in debt? Are there still such things as debtors jails?

To be fair, it wasn’t a large purchase – less than twenty quid – but I thought it a decent skill to master. It’s silly: I can outline the base and superstructure of Marxism, differentiate between the szyuzhet and fibula in a film of the classical western paradigm, but I had never used a credit card. Well, today, that changed – I figured out how, all by my little athetoid self. It will certainly make buying birthday presents easier, for now I will not have to traipse to the shops. Mind you, shops are cheaper, and the gratification more immediate, and probably safer, but I was desperate to try it for myself. Huzzah!

However, I noted in the news today that ‘[a]fter 14 February some retailers may refuse to accept payment from people using chip and pin cards if they do not know their pin number.’ This may appear to be a good thing, but how are the likes of yours truly going to cope with punching numbers into those tiny key-pads? They do not appear to have key guards. Assuming that we get the shopkeeper to understand that we are intelligent, do we then relay our pin numbers through our communication aids, thereby broadcasting it for the entire shop to hear? Or do we have to try to punch it manually into the small grey box, which will mean endless tries, lasting about ten minutes each as you concentrate with all your might to hit the right button. I just hope there’s a backspace. I’m beginning to think this is a conspiracy, or at least discrimination through negligence, but at least I can now get stuff off the net.

link

Why do the yanks think they own the internet? I’ve just read this article, about how they are effectively intending to privatise the internet. The u.s ‘government’ barely more than a hoard of rednecks with the average iq of a rabid baboon – seems to want to put the net into the hands of private companies who milk it for profit. This would effectively mean censorship, where only those who pay can access certain sites.

The internet is, as we all know, the most powerful resource ever created. Through it, I have access to more information than I can possibly ever control. Now the yanks want to limit my access to it, so that they can make more money. It’s about time someone told these neocon idiots that they do not own the internet, they do not own it, and barely have the intelligence to understand it.

Stupid right-wing morons!

today I found one of the most outragous misquotes ever from a creationis. this is not a creation/evoluton blog, but the subject is a hobby of mine. anyway, if anyone ever wanted to see proof of creationists having no academic scruples, go here. Mayer blatantly misquots dawkins:

[quote=”Stephen C Meyerurl:http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml?xml=/opinion/2006/01/28/do2803.xml”%5DInsert Contrary to media reports, ID is not a religious-based idea, but an evidence-based scientific theory about life’s origins. According to Darwinian biologists such as Oxford University’s Richard Dawkins, living systems “give the appearance of having been designed for a purpose”.[/quote]

whats so amusing and pathetic is that anyone who knows aything about the subject will know that dawkins openly and veehemently speaks against religgion and creationism, and the full text of th quote is ”Biology is the study of complicated things that give the appearance of having been designed for a purpose but are indeed, not.” how can anyone get away with such misrepresentation, especially in a national newspaper? moreover, the misquote appears in creationist sites all over the place. how irronic, how absurd, and how deceitful?

It’s probably just me, but I just find this article so cool! its about an expedition in indonesia which recently found a great many new species in new guinea. what I find incredible is, that in the age of satellites, there are still unexplored areas of the world. there are still blanks on the map, which means there are still adventures to be had!

and guess who intends to have them.

I have decided that the hardest part of writing is starting. Sitting down and actually coming up with the initial idea. What happens after that is simple – usually, after 2 or three hours you have one to two thousand words of story, and after a few edits it’s done. It’s getting that first idea that is hard.

Today, the ideas just weren’t flowing, as they hadn’t all weekend. I don’t know why: I was happy comfortable. Usually I get ideas just like that, but today the well was dry. I was beginning t wonder whether this was the dreaded writers block I had heard of. We were sitting in the library, between lessons: libraries usually inspire me, but not today.

Esther could see I was getting worried, so she sat me down, and began a mindmap. I usually think those are new age hippy bunkum, and didn’t bother when dad suggested I did one yesterday, but then, like a candle suddenly igniting in the dark, an idea hit me. Then another, embellishing on the first. And another. I began to write the story that I plan to finish tonight. The hippy mindmap had worked. Sorry dad

Let me start this entry with two positions: 1.. I am an atheist – I see no evidence if a creator being or god. I see only evidence for scientific reductivism. From this it follows that religion is a creation of man, and in it’s current state it is a political tool – it can be and is used for political tool. Marx called it the opium of the masses – a tool for mind control.

2. I am a liberal – thus I believe people can say whatever they want. When people are prevented from doing this, tyranny follows. What if Mandela was prevented from speaking out? Or martin luther King? People have a right to say whatever they want. My brother Luke once told me of an adage: I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend your right to say it to my death.

I hold the above positions firmly, and so I cannot condemn the publication of cartoons depicting the prophet Mohamed as a terrorist in a Dutch newspaper, even if they were probably penned by a bigot. I see clearly why there is so much furore, and I also see why they are deeply offensive to Muslims. Yet we have no right to censor such pictures. Part of the problem with religion is that it cannot be criticised, so it continues o be a political tool. It should be as open to satire as anything else, as it is the belief that religion should not be criticised that keeps the priests and mullahs in their pulpits. It’s time we lifted the curtain.

This aside, I can see great trouble following. Are wee seeing the beginnings of some kind of religious war?

I’m quite pleased with myself. I’ve done a lot of work – well, an 1200 wrd plot summerry to which I also began the script. yay! although its for uni, it doesn’t really feel lie work: its tooo much fun. today I got the president to almost eclare war on france, only to be saved by the u.k. nevertheless, its time to reward myself with some attenborough.

I just got in from my regular Tuesday night at the cinema. I had intended to see Brokeback mountain, but that would mean waiting around for two hours for the next showing, and getting home late, which I didn’t really fancy. The film nearest our arrival at the cinema was bee season – I hadn’t heard of this film, and thought it might be worth a try.

I was wrong. The film is a weird mix of spelling and theology: somehow, ancient religious scripture guides the daughter of this professor of religion to spell better. Somehow there’s a link between religion, power and spelling. It’s all done in this mystical way, where the girl can see imaginary birds spelling letters.

Its just a garbled mess – pointless melodrama mixed with religious undertones. It was made by fox, and I could see their grubby right-wing fingers all over it. Even the fine acting ability of Richard gere couldn’t save this film. No wonder I hadn’t heard of it.