MORE BAD NEWS ON THE WAY

 

Children and lockdown-obliged extra exposure to TV news.

Following on from our last post on the dangers to our schoolchildren of their current  incarceration, I am adding extra exposure to media and especially TV news. I am, of course, using the word 'news' sarcastically, ironically and contemptuously. As adults we can choose to expose ourselves to this canned misinformation and misdirection, and then adjust our reception accordingly. The child cannot do this and only reacts emotionally to the stress of it all.

   Pre internet days generally saw children outdoors and not exposed to media news. If a child had a particular interest and the necessary intellect, they could peruse a newspaper. Most children, of course, would never do this. The TV and the internet is the game changer, here children cannot avoid the news, even as babes. And are thusly exposed to the misinformation, fear and paranoia visited on our homes daily. As we note:

We are not neurologically equipped to manage media news information, presented as it is, relentlessly and continuously, without our personal understanding of context and hierarchy, and thus a proper order in which to process or ignore it. Our minds are battered by the apparent urgency of it and especially its visuality.

 

Although the issues presented are usually remote from our lives, and perhaps culturally alien, nevertheless, the familiar language and style of delivery, tends to result in the primitive parts of our mind processing the dangers and confusions as if proximal. Almost everything is understood emotionally. These archive over the years as a continuous never-ending anxiety attack. How much more so this effect on children?

 Fear stockpiles in our psyche, the endless media reference to inchoate hostility, and the general confusion attendant on topics being introduced before one is ready for them, cannot be without negative consequence. This is then, diabolically, reinforced in school, but as a good thing! Referred to as ‘keeping our children informed’ and thus more able to contribute to debates on global and societal issue; AS IF! Our children’s view of the world is forever changed by this relentless news exposure, making them easier to manipulate and activate as required, and not least ruining their peace of mind. Perhaps this forever, should they become, as many adults are, addicted to media news.

Have you had your daily media dose of Soma today?

Today’s chosen narrative; an examination of brave African transgender children breaking weightlifting, and prejudice, barriers in the sport they love.

And BBC Newsround, ...don't get me started. (see 'BBC Newsround How do I Hate Thee' entry from August 2020) I don't even watch it and its driving me crazy.I urge parents to treat the presence of TV news in their child's life as they would a porno or violent movie. 

RE-INVENTING PLAYTIME

 

A School Lock-out Opportunity

When considering the consequences of the apparent viral  attack ¹ on our society, parents naturally think of its impact on their child’s education. The school lockout, of course, exacerbates this. By way of reassurance, it is my belief that any long-term effect on a child’s education and prospects will be relatively trivial to zero – even for those children on remedial programmes.

However, I have been wondering whether the more serious impact is not on their learning, which can be caught up on, but on their play which is lost forever to their childhood. Although this observation is directed to all outdoor play activities – which have hardly existed in the last year! – my specific focus (this being a primary school blog) is playtime.

That happy time and most pupils’ favourite subject.

This downtime, switch-off and run about, is necessary for recovery and, somewhat counter-intuitively, for consolidation of learning. But such is the nature of modern childhood that playtime is also for many children, alas, their only exercise outdoors in their entire day. Even when the weather is nice!  And so, the viral lockdown in winter really is a lockdown, taking on the features of the gulag workcamp lifestyle that beckons from the permanent viral-bedevilled future we have been promised by vaccine manufacturers, WHO sock-puppets and billionaire philanthropist-destroyers.

While arguably the school lockout is good for enhancing children’s computer gaming, internet shopping, poptrash and porn searching ² skills, it is a catastrophe for their physical and mental health – and for all the subtle ways that this connects to learning, socialisation and spiritual well-being. Some of these effects may already be apparent to parents, with this worry spooling out into the future.

You see, you cannot just remove the spontaneity, socialisation and lung-bursting madness of playtime and replace it with NOTHING and expect no consequences for children. They need to chase each other, fall out and make up, and completely forget about lessons and adults for while in their own space under the sky; not just in order to learn better, but to be children in 4D. The lockdown takes this away and gives them more training for a future in screen icon shifting or telesales.

However, the bad seed that is planted will sprout to help normalise the 2D life indoors and its various avatars that define this real world replacement.³ Such thoughts that in time, rooting deep and spreading upwards, will grow to fill the little replacement target with guilt and woe and, eventually, metabolic disease – but don’t worry, they’re working on a jag for it!

Some parents will welcome this digital remodelling of our children, believing that it helps avoid the terrible dangers of outdoors play – tripping while running, sore legs or getting wet if it rains. They may imagine that the extra screen time gained helps make their children’ fit for the future’. And thus, they may see nothing concerning about Globalcorp’s full activation of pupil school i  accounts, and the brain rewiring that normalises this process of IT dependence, being added to the default convenience of later converting it to an adult account complete with the personality and marketing profiles built up (naturally, for their safety!) since childhood. It should be sad that your child is better able to answer who they have seen most on screen this week, than who they’ve been playing with at playtime.

Remote others will welcome this for other reasons - and not just because they’ve arranged it! Can you see them yet? You already know what they want – they tell you.

This digital solution also brings the advantage of freeing up the playground (now wasted space) for economic opportunities such as car parking, mobile phone masts, flat construction or a fracking pump.It’s hard not to see, then, this removal of playtime and its consequences as yet another portal we and our children march through unwittingly. It’s easy to exaggerate the effect of course, but just as easy to play it down or even ignore it. This is not the end of the world, and there is time to fix this problem. But, as with all things connected to time, it’s always later than you think!

Make sure your kid has their playtime outdoors, even if you have to be so uncool as to play with them yourself.

What think ye?

1. I accept that there is one. But perhaps not so much by an actual  virus. Lest any parents and older pupils are insufficiently worried about the virus’s impact, a recent newspaper headline put them right - DEATH IS ALL AROUND US - no doubt to allay their fears.

 2. Referencing P6 and P7; girls and boys respectively.

3. This being a part of the modern child’s lifestyle package containing; an i phone, high sugar drinks, carbohydrate as principle source of calories, computer games, digital socialisation and 20 hours plus TV per week synergistically combined with minus 20 hours outdoor exercise. Add drugs as required.

SAFE EUROPEAN HOME

 

for Auld Lang Syne

Reflecting on this year from the officially enforced, and perhaps too socially-distanced comfort, of your designated lockdown zone, you may find your mind’s eye seeking out the company of crowds and naturally consider the only gatherings of this year – the various, apparently spontaneous, international commiserations over the death of a saintly, pistol-whipping¹ porn star unfortunately over-fond of strange powders. And the inevitable and justified attacks on the symbols of white racism (statues, public building, liquor stores, shoe shops, McDonald’s, street names, white faces) that caused his demise. Should, however, this reflection be too political for your maudlin mood, and you just prefer something mair auld lang syne, I attach the following little compilation of 1950s Scandinavian street scenes from what appears to be home movies. And you may imagine yourself there instead, enjoying your unjust privilege. Although there is no sound (other than a retrospectively added and poorly chosen soundtrack), it speaks for itself. It features Scandies of course (and thankfully a few fjallravens to maintain the special interest of wildlife connoisseurs) but we Scotch, as fellow North Euros, are in no wise excluded from recognising a common cultural past, and thusly seeing ourselves in the images. That is our former selves.

https://youtu.be/t0oxUeKIgIc        and here's a live link. (I'm not sure if I've done this correctly, tell me if so)

Perhaps I am projecting, but I feel a terrific sense of order and security radiating from the images, in that these places are safe in a way that does not exist anymore. Good manners too, somehow suggests itself. These are nice thoughts to enter the new year with, don’t you think.The city centre scenes are striking for how well-dressed people appear to be; dapper, polished and elegant are proposed as the correct adjectives. And slim. And White. Slim and White; Aye, there’s the rub.

Although easily within the span of many readers, the world depicted is as gone as Caesar’s Rome.² For some oldsters this may evoke nostalgia, for the young however (and here I am thinking of White school children) raised in a world of images where their visual replacement is almost complete, I feel that these images will come as a surprise. And for ethnic others; they’ll be wondering where they are. I am especially curious about how older children, gas-lighted and bullied into beliefs about prejudice and patriarchy as their recent history, react to seeing just pale faces like their own in what are undeniably liveable countries, despite the absence of the cultural enrichments we now enjoy. For young males especially, seeing innocent images of ordinary White males who are not the buffoons, psychos and incompetents they know from TV, perhaps this would have a subtle power. Could these images evoke some atavistic impulse that could threaten the project to deprive European peoples of their heritage? I am sure that I am not the only one to think this.

I’ve politicised my viewing of these images, although we know watching them that such a perspective was not even conceivable to the original filmers – although arguably to the recent compiler. It is this very innocence of political agenda that gives them their subversive power and this is why they will be memory holed.  Our past, according to this corrected view, was narrow and dull, intolerant and corrupt, racist and anti-Semitic. No other memory will be allowed.

It is the perquisite of power to invent the past. And we are not to find a welcome there. In this future world auld acquaintance should be forgot and never brocht tae mind. Let us resist this for, evoking Rabbie, auld lang syne.

Hat tip to The Clash, from whom I stole the title.

What think ye?

 

1. Lest this causes a misunderstanding, we are not referencing a porno-style pistol whipping in the saint’s case, but actual pistol whipping (with a gun) of a pregnant woman he was robbing. I think ‘pistol-whuppin’ is the correct term.

2. And ha ha, for exactly the same reasons. Emperor Claudius shakes his head: Ego dixi vobis.

SANTA CLAUS IS STILL COMING TO TOWN

 

Lifelong Infant Logic

At this time of year it used to be that infants were only worried about whether they had been naughty or nice, but I’ve just discovered that there is a new source of worry for them – the virus.

Infants are not concerned at getting the virus, that worry is still a little too abstract to their understanding, but on its potential impact on Santa delivering their presents. A rumour had started, possibly encouraged by an older sibling or even our First Meenister, that Santa would be stopped by the police for breaking the lockdown rules regarding travel between zones. This concern, expressed sincerely, shows an impressive grasp of logic as well as a proper focus on priorities, and illustrates one of the delights of working with infants. 

Using the same logic, I was able to allay the fear; Santa’s sleigh flies, but the police cars cannot, so they wouldn’t be able to stop him even if they wanted to. This was accepted, after a moment’s reflection and a relieved Ah!, as the logical proof it is. I nailed the assurance with the claim that the police wouldn’t want to stop Santa anyway, because then they wouldn’t get any presents either – new handcuffs, pepper spray or big boots.

It is a wonderful feeling to be able to provide genuine succour to the troubled in spirit. One risks becoming almost saintly, like Santa I suppose.

With infants one often encounters logical corollaries, and even wisdom, built atop false premises, and naturally hold this to be a particular feature of undeveloped young minds. This is true, of course; however, in the last year I have come to believe that as adults we represent no true improvement on the patterns of logic demonstrated by our infantish selves. The domain shifts, but the scope and power remain the same. Our responses to the political and cultural challenge brought to our entire nation by the events of the year seem to me to demonstrate this limit.

This is not to end on a pessimistic note, for it also proves that Santa will not be stopped by the Scottish police. Even our resident FM Grinch cannae stop him.

Nevertheless, one should still be good for goodness sake.

What think ye?

PS. That Santa should be subject to the same rules as the rest of us, somewhat worryingly indicates that infants have absorbed the equalist tropes that persecute the rest of us. I wonder if the magic realm that infants inhabit is shrinking due to the effect of our excellent curriculum's famous four capacities; and in particular that connected to Responsible Citizens - I'm sure it would view Santa as just another privileged White male in need of a little BLM.

THE NATIONAL GALLERY: SCOTLAND’S CHAMPION OF RACIAL JUSTICE

Addressing Racism or Creating it?

Of the many reasons to go to an art gallery surely among the more important is, as it always was, to find a space that is separate from the distractions and worries of the everyday world.

In such a place, shared with others who feel likewise, a congenial and contemplative atmosphere is created which allows one’s mind to settle and then best appreciate the interest, craft and especially beauty of the images viewed – or the challenge posed by works so intended. And from this comes the little epiphanies, delights, puzzles and spiritual renewal which art can bring. Beauty and delight can be found everywhere, of course, but can best find deliberate focus in the places dedicated to it. All that is needed, then, for the gallery to work its magic, is that the space is respected for what it is. This respect is the visitor’s responsibility, but takes place under the auspices and protection of the custodians.

In our current age of national mental breakdown and perpetual racial outrage, such a space with its attendant protection is needed more than ever. And for this reason, those who would destroy us, especially target those places of refuge, like our sports venues (see post, Follow, Follow, ….from July) and like our art galleries. And so, visitors to our National Gallery on The Mound find the following reminder of our White guilt and worthlessness, included in a threat to find more of the same hiding within our art. Seeing this sign is like Kryptonite to the art-lover’s soul - as intended!

Here, the source of ancestor pride coverts to shame and the tonic we hope for in visiting the gallery becomes the poison.

Consider the NLP wording, which subtly indicates they would not be pleased to receive criticism- because such would be racist, obviously. Note too, the vagueness of the threat to research: Who is doing what, to what standard with what measurable goal and for whom? And why is the gallery concerned with equality and anti-racism anyway – has it been such a bastion of prejudice, one wonders, for almost its entire existence? Sarcasm doesn’t work here, of course, and the thinking person knows not to bother asking what this waffle means, but the threat is real, as is the destructive power behind it.  And we note the coda – commitment to equality – that justifies anything really, even as it means nothing but subversion of our culture.

This statement gives the appearance of foolishness, but don’t mistake the golems for the master behind it. The intent is evil, for the goal is to create a new Original Sin from which Whitey’s mind will not escape- with the law as a back-up, naturally. Slavery is referenced, but Black people are not the overseers of this plantation.

Meanwhile, in the gallery’s anti-racism research laboratory deep underground, top dollar justice consultants ¹ will peer into the souls of our ancestors for alleged offenses against the 21st Century. And they will find them: Any moderately wealthy person from the past would be the beneficiary of family investments in bonds and schemes that linked to the colonies and plantations, either directly or indirectly through various mercantile interests - hence racist! Or worse, even family members in the direct employ of our great empire of conquest and trade, or (Oh, the shame!) married into it. And naturally, our ancestors held opinions that were typical for their society's age. Examined thusly, without prejudice, one would find that virtually the gallery's entire collection, indeed even its existence, from its founding, management, bequests, loans and purchases all riddled with wrongthinkers, and ripe for tearing down; or, should we model our displeasure with our ancestor’s wrong opinions in the French fashion, a la Notre Dame!

And why not; why stop there? What about visitors entering the gallery with racist or anti-equality attitudes, shouldn’t they too join the banned art?  And here’s the rub, eventually they will! Returning to the theme of our blog, our children in school are getting brought up with this thinking; haircuts, swimming, cutlery, puddings, exams, keyboards, milk, good manners, reading, etc, etc, etc, are all outed as racist and elitist. The gallery’s commitment will make sense to them, but not go far enough for their well-stoked fire of righteous indignation. Eventually, then, someone will burn it down – we’re asking for it!

There is no end to this: religious art no doubt offends some and invites firstly criticism and eventually machetes. Domestic scenes (a particular favourite of mine) are claimed as demeaning the role of women. Family settings proselytise for the patriarchy. The Dutch masters deny, by their technical brilliance, the supposed equal merit of a tribal shaman's mask. In painting David Hume's² portrait, Allan Ramsey surely exposes himself as an equal in racist crimethink - away with both of them! This ride never ends...

I have visited British art galleries all my life, and although have seen works of dubious merit and intentionally subversive garbage, I have never seen or heard tell of works which were intended to (or actually did) offend the sensibilities, or otherwise sought to, demean ethnic others, or any other identity group within our society – indeed, the opposite is the case. Realistically, such art does not exist in public galleries in our country–if it exists at all.³ 

However, the alleged offenses matter little and the truth not at all. For the real intent is not to combat racism and other alleged prejudices, but to create them. A resentment is awakened in ethnic others’ to European excellence in art, then given legitimacy and a weapon of expression. How can this end well for anyone involved?

For ethnic others’ driven to slow anger by our apparent endless racism, which even resides in that art which we believe to be the highest expression of our aesthetic. And for us older palefaces, lost and confused in a miasma of gas-lighting and lies, anti-white smears and psychological warfare. Our refuges breached and our erstwhile protectors, in fact, a fifth column – who, we note, will be pleased to receive information which supports their work. Such overwhelming self-righteousness is nicely balanced by their betrayal of our art and the fragile public space in which it lives.

 The great paradox about all this is that if there really was White prejudice, none of this could have happened.

What think ye?

1. Such Racism Researchers should have due recognition: I recommend a National Art Zero-tolerance Initiative uniform and accoutrements, perhaps this could be abbreviated to an acronym to better fit onto their armbands. They could also do in-house checks for potential staff apostasy as kind of internal police, perhaps modelled on a certain European pattern of recent memory. For such checks they would be issued sidearms; a Luger would be a good choice.

2. The 18th Century Scottish enlightenment philosopher has recently been outed as a racist and, as a disrespect to his memory, BLM-loving Edinburgh University has removed his name from one of its buildings so as 'not to give offense'. In this act, I believe, they have done him a favour; the former David Hume Tower was a typical '60s Lego-style concrete box and immensely ugly to his memory. 

3. I have read fairly recently (last five years) of two examples of exhibition artworks that were explicitly racist. These featured, and arguably promoted, the genocide of White people; their alleged intent was a riposte to White privilege. They were not UK based.

Art which promotes identity pride, or celebrates it, is of course a commonplace in which we as native Whites happily partake. With one exception. 

Saint Margaret

Margaret: Scotland's saintly queen.
Honouring the one, by remembering the other.

Metaphors, similes, analogies

in abundance dance happily

around her one little person.

And so, let’s begin thusly;

 

chubby as a cherub

and equally sweet faced

the eyes a placid pond, calming

brown as chocolate buttons

 

straight-forward manner

practical, willing and, above all,

uncomplaining;  Yes, Sir to any request

and right away on the job

 

like a miniature classroom version

of the best sergeant

in the regiment, although

much gentler, obviously!

 

An A student at living life

from another better age, inevitably

she struggles with book work

even simple adding

 

is like calculus to her, and I hope

I reassure her with the truth

about the lessons; in the scheme

of things, they don’t matter so much

 

and in time the cogs will align.

Still I worry that her can-do vim

turns to frustration and

turning inward wounds her

 

for the life she should have

of building child by child

our nation’s future of

her earthy, yet saintly, stock

 

she cannot understand this

that she holds best that which

passing shows the greatness

of her soul, not found in lessons.

 

Saint Margaret, it’s really me

who learns from you but

on this day, of  your namesake’s

crossing, find the favour returned.

 

Let me show you how to do

this sum by analogy that fits

your character; you and me

together re-building the world:

 

Here’s the spade, you dig.

I’ll bag the soil.

NB. Saint Margaret's feast day is the 16th November; the day of her death in 1093.

And what a eulogy!: 

A precious pearl saw the light in Hungary, and lived at the court of the Confessor, a School of Holiness. Torn from homeland, you embrace another. You became Queen and Mother, the glory of Scots. Your Queen's crown, a crown of Charity. Your way, the Royal Way of the Cross...Once, mere men, placed crowns upon your head. But I, Innocent, Peter's successor, Servant of Christ, now place upon your head, the greatest crown of all, sainthood. - The Oration of Canonisation by Innocent IV from 1250 

Armistice memorial for Pte. D. Watson

 

THE LAST BREAKFAST

Mr Watson ordered breakfast

this morning in French.

Oh no, there must be a mistake,

he doesn’t speak French!

No, he spoke good French. I did

a Higher in it. We had a

good conversation before

the drugs took him away.

 

Christ, he kept that hidden!

True to his Edwardian upbringing

modest to the end, never moaned

patiently waiting on the sun he

ay claimed would be along in time

broken at just 70 by all the

troubles of the century.

And now, we mounted final

 

guard around his bed while

we waited on him stepping

over to the ‘other quarters’.

Right at that last moment

before the bullet that didn’t get you

finally got you I like to think

you were with your old mates

you told me off

 

in some estaminet ordering

eggs and chips in French

for the last time; it was

always the last time for

some of them - young Lt. Cowan

training to be the lawyer

he never became. Tam, Don’t...!

you told him, and you’d no

 

sooner said it when he was

killed right there on the fire-step.

It was a mad wicked thing,

but I never met finer people-

that’s how life balances itself.

All those fine fellows who

got the wrong ticket home

just one now was waiting

 

to join their ranks perhaps

the finest of them all although

you would have strongly objected

to the compliment but knowing

something of life myself now

I stand by it

fraternal, hard-working

kind considerate appreciative

 

of daily blessings uncomplaining

while the cancer bayoneted

you over and over

I was only a boy without

the words to shape my

understanding of the sheer immensity

of your decency

and so now, Danny, old soldier

 

Grandad, over fifty years

after your final roll call, I salute

you and your kind and see you

with Jack and Pat easily

in my mind’s eye, loosening your belt,

taking off your tammy and

waiting to be offered a seat.

Excuse moi, Madame, pouvons nous avoir quelque chose a manger?