Flirty Something has an account of a safari to Avoca, the shop that likes to put the ker-ching into 'you paid what for that piece of tat?'
If you're from stateside, Avoca is an overpriced, smug (two common characteristics in the Celtic Tiger) cultural lovechild of Anthropologie and Laura Ashley all housed under one Edward Gibbonsesque roof. It's an SUV in Kensington. It's advanced capitalism in flower-patterned wellies.
As you can tell, I love the place (and what it says about Irish society) with a great passion.
Anyway, I have one question about Flirty's post. How. The. Fuck. Do you 'hand cook' crisps? Are the Chinese political prisoners now forced to hold the crisps into the deep fat fryer during breaks from welly stitching?
There was an excellent article by Martin Kettle in yesterday's Guardian where he made some fundamental points about the New Hampshire primary. Namely that there's something strange in everyone focusing on Hillary's supposed tears rather than on what the polls had been saying, with the exception of the few days between the Iowa caucus and NH. That is: Clinton is ahead among Democrats so is more likely to win the bulk of states, where only Democratic votors can cast a ballot.
Pity he hadn't forwarded his piece to others in the same edition of the paper…
Still, there's a big question that isn't being asked about what Americans (and, I suppose, the rest of us) expect in a female president. It strikes me that a lot of the coverage of Hillary emoting focuses on the moment being a truly feminist moment: when being human requires us to not only be strong but also to show that we can suffer.
But I wonder. Isn't this just another instance of a woman being held to different standards to a man? Has anyone asked the same thing of Obama? What would we think of a teary moment from him? It may just be that a return to the halcyon Clintonic days requires a president with a quivering lip, but it may also be that even the more progressive Democratic supporters haven't quite shook off the suspicion that an ambitious woman must be a bitch.
Hopefully not. It pains me to say it, but (electorally speaking) Hillary had better not take too much advice from Bill on these aspects of her presidency (agin which I wouldn't bet). She and Bill should look further afield for inspiration, starting perhaps with a DVD or two.
If she quivers she'll be called weak and if she doesn't she'll be called cold. But – as presidents go – better cold than weak…
A diverting but useful addition to coverage of the US election is Politifact.com. The site has the stated aim of separating fact from fiction in comment by and about the candidates and parties. I particularly like the pants on fire tag, awarded for outlandish statements.
Here's a wonderful short film on Sean Nós singing from Celtic Juice TV, featuring one of a number of our friends whose geographic distance has not dimmed their fascination for Irish language and music. The piece is just over eight minutes long and well worth the viewing.
With all the talk of American primaries and the continuing unrest in Pakistan and Kenya, Iraq has slipped from the news radar slightly in recent days. The Boys from Baghdad High screened last night by BBC2 brought the reality of living in war-torn Baghdad to life in a far more vivid manner than any news item could do.
The Boys from Baghdad High involved giving video cameras to four boys from the final year class in Baghdad High. With the cameras, they recorded their day to day life over the academic year. They were all of different religion and of very different temperament; English is seen as a ticket to university for one, as a way of becoming a singer songwriter for another. A third boy has no interest in studying whatsoever and is on course for failure across the board in his final exams.
Danger and death is part and parcel of the lives of these seventeen year olds. Even the simple omission of forgetting to send a text message sends one of them into a day-long worry for the safety of his girlfriend. Yet, through it all, what emerges from the Boys of Baghdad High is the resilience of the teenagers featured. Who can forget the excitement of coming up to one’s final exams in secondary school. The sense of tangible freedom and possibility. The intensity of relationships with friends and others. Above all, the sense of fun imbued in the teenage spirit. This is not lacking in the four boys of Baghdad High. They are funny, disarming and terrifyingly well-adjusted considering the menace surrounding them. That they should be beaten down on their journey to adulthood is yet another travesty of this war.
There's an interesting snippet in today's FT suggesting that Sony, manufacturer of the Blu-Ray disk, is winning the battle against the MS/Toshiba HD format. Personally I don't care too much (though some are antipathetic either way), being the sort of ignoramous who could probably not tell the difference but who knows enough to make do with an ancient DVD player until one format or other is obsolete. Let the impatient early-adopters take the risks…
Strangely, though, there seems to be a slight consensus that the best disk-we-don't-need will win this time (unlike the VHS/Betamax saga). Oh joy.
If you didn't see it last night (and you have the good fortune to live in the UK), you can pop over to the BBC IPlayer to watch last night's excellent Culture Show. The whole programme was devoted to the band Sigur Rós. I've never found them enormously accessible, but it transpires that they're a band whose music ought to be seen as well as heard.
Evening Extra was full of an inordinate amount of people blaming the government for snow. They strangely decided to include a reading of one person's off-the-shelf text saying 'if they can't predict snow in an hour how can they say anything about climate change?' Answer: because there's a difference between weather and climate, as any fool should know.
Anyway, enough kvetching. The highlight of the show was good friend Mel punditifying on post-Iowa prospects for New Hampshire. A nice brief discussion, only marred by Karen Patterson asking the inevitable 'who's going to win the presidential election?' question. Hear Mel struggle to find a polite version of 'how in hell should I know?' here at about 2:13.
Recent Comments