Things don't get much sicker than this. I thought that, since it's the year 2009, and we're all civilised human beings and that, that the modern countries didn't do this sort of thing. I'm naive and I was wrong. Now, Britain is a sort of economic ally with China because they have money and we don't, and they put on a nice Olympic light show for us all. For these reasons - I can't see many others - we/our government puts up a blind eye to all the human rights abuses that go on there; ever heard of the Tiananmen Square masssacre? Oh, wait - we forgot about that, didn't we? Well, here's a quick recap. Peaceful protesters staged a massive demonstration in Bejing's famous plaza. After days of calling for freedom, accountability, democracy, the Chinese government brought in troops to the city. About 20,000 people were killed that day - shot, bayonetted or crushed by tanks. In China, the event officially never happened. This is also the same nation that maintains the annexation of Tibet, restricts internet access, birth, and religion. Basically, all the stuff Iran gets up to but, somehow it's okay because they trade with us, and they're not in the "axis of evil". Since they were the prime antogonists behind Copenhagen's failure, therefore condemning hundreds of thousands to death through the effects of climate change, there's no reason why the Chinese government should not be labelled war criminals.
Not much news gets out of the communist state, but I did a little bit of research. I say a little bit, because I only have my computer and the internet - a combination that usually would allow me to see anything in Britain (thankyou, Labour, for the Freedom of Information Act). However, WikiLeaks is overloaded and nearly all figures about capital punishment in China are state secrets. According to Amnesty International, China executed 6,000 people in 2006; estimates say upwards of 8,000. They also found out that at least 1,718 executions took place in 2008, though the figure is again thought to be much higher. To put this into perspective - since 1976, the US has executed 1,188 criminals, with 3,302 prisoners currently on "death row".
And Gordon Brown's response to this terrible crime against one of our own citizens - a mentally disabled man, opposed by a flawed case? "I condemn the execution of Akmal Shaikh in the strongest terms, and am appalled and disappointed that our persistent requests for clemency have not been granted. I am particularly concerned that no mental health assessment was undertaken." Then this, from Dave Milliband: "The UK is completely opposed to the use of the death penalty in all circumstances. However I also deeply regret the fact that our specific concerns about the individual in this case were not taken into consideration despite repeated calls by the Prime Minister, ministerial colleagues and me. These included mental health issues, and inadequate professional interpretation during the trial." Not a wink from anyone else, no comment from either of the opposition parties, except the EU (who ever listens to them?) and an ambiguously concerned message from the UN Human Rights Council. Oh, and let's not forget the BNP, whose dickhead Legal Director Lee Barnes displayed the darker side of his personality.
And China's response? "Nobody has the right to speak ill of China's judicial sovereignty" - in political terms, "fuck off". So this is what we boil down to? Britain, once the greatest empire the world has ever seen - reduced to issuing impotent, worried missives to superpowers who shoot our citizens at will. The worst of it is that nobody seems to give a damn.
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Rage Against Simon Cowell's Machine
I'm listening to the Chart Show on Radio 1 - it's not something I usually do on a sunday afternoon but this time I have a vested interest. Hopefully - hopefully, Rage Against The Machine's Killing In The Name Of will come out as Christmas No.1, over the X Factor's winning track The Climb, a cover of a Miley Cyrus (the real version of Hannah Montana. I think they're both androids but it doesen't matter anymore) song that's actually still in the charts.
Firstly, for you idiots who haven't heard of Rage - there are no words to decribe how deep your ignorance runs. Joe McElderry, the X Factor winner who's so bland and uninteresting he was probably made from vanilla extract, admitted he hadn't heard of them anymore; but I really didn't expect him to - this is the guy who danced with his mother at one of the most exclusive London nightclubs on the night of his *cough* fixed *cough* victory. Anyway, the song is taken from RATM's debut, eponymous album from 1992. It is one of the best, and most influential albums of the last twenty years and it is just awesome. Seething with anger, hatred, and injustice, alongside spiralling, searing guitar, each of the ten tracks is a damning antitribute to the American Dream. Killing In The Name Of, as the premier single from that album, is one of the most powerful political rock songs ever penned; primarily about the Los Angeles riots of that year, but by itself, it's a damning, flaming, swear-fuelled octane tirade railing against any and every establishment that ever existed. Therefore, as the ultimate revolutionary's anthem, it is the perfect opponent to Simon Cowell and his popstar cloning factory.
The Climb is a different matter. In the beginning, it started out as a Miley Cyrus song. When you're covering tracks written by Disney, you need to start thinking about throwing in the towel. And the horrid reality of it all is that the original, country-western version is better. Sure, it's got mildly uplifting lyrics and builds up to a predictable crescdendo-finale - in a way it's reflective of the X Factor itself. But compared to the supercharged battlecry of Killing In The Name Of, it's a whimpering mouse. It's heart is in the right place - but then again, the same can be said of George W Bush. That's the most I can say about it, because it's boring, and medicated and... well, crap. The X Factor in general is fairly pants; it's like Cowell looked at all the cliches of modern television, multiplied by 100 and mixed them altogether. Seriously, it's ridiculous and logically it should not be popular. Overdressed morons with preselected opinions walk down the stage, to a desk (what do they need that for?! It's not like Cheryl Cole is literate, even if she wanted to take notes) - to the soundtrack of The Omen. Then that announcer from E4 - originally a ripoff of Tom Baker's narration on Little Britain - tells us their names, because we're not smart enough to remember them week-to-week, whilst sounding like your estranged horny uncle. Then Dermot O'Leary stands up in the same suit every week - the fashion rule that forces poor Cole and Minogue to fit into more spectacular dresses each episode apparently doesen't apply to men - he never takes that suit off. And then, for the rest of the programme, there's just this cheap kareoke thing , and each new bland individual is introduced with unflattering closeups in front of an industrial fan.
We actually pay Simon Cowell our own money (through the telephone voting) for him to spoonfeed us terrible music. He says that he started X Factor because the British music industry was in a bad shape; 2005 was a pretty good year in music. We had Franz Ferdinand's second album, Bloc Party's debut, Jack Johnson reached the mainstream and the first album from Editors. Is this what we've been reduced to? Is this our collective musical identity - Cheryl Cole wailing on about how she's going to fight for this love? It genuinely scares the core of my being to think that 18 million people have zero music taste.
I was reading a Mailonline (I was linked, I wouldn't willingly stray into that Tory/Celeb news warzone) article about the singles' battle reaching its climax tonight, and the comments below were just poor. The best was the claim that "we watch the X Factor and vote because we're genuinely interested in furthering the lives of some talented young people" - I'm very bemused that someone thinks ITV's premier cashcow is one huge educational excercise for just those 12 kids. If they really want to help out young people then give that £1.50 that went to the vote, to a charity like Frank or Shelter. Ultimately, the X Factor is democracy - the shit, mobocratic side of democracy. Democracy barely works as it is (Churchill said that "democracy is the worst form of government except when compared to all the other forms of government") - and stuff like I'm A Celebrity Get Me Outta Here might end up damaging real-life politics if people think that the point in casting their vote is to decide who's the best looking MP.
Music should never be a democracy. It is the only place, in our society, where true anarchy reigns. It is the ultimate meritocracy - creativity amplified. Don't like the Top 40? Make your own music. Put it on MySpace, busk in the streets. Go to the club nights at the Manchester Academy, trawl the record shops in the Northern Quarter and find a hidden gem, a rough diamond. Don't buy Susan Boyle's album (which was just announced to be Christmas No 1) because she's ugly and you feel sorry for her, buy it for her music. Music is individual, private - every song has a different meaning and a different sound for everyone. It can't work as a democracy. Therefore, we need a revolution. And Tom Morello and Zac de la Rocha are going to lead it.
Firstly, for you idiots who haven't heard of Rage - there are no words to decribe how deep your ignorance runs. Joe McElderry, the X Factor winner who's so bland and uninteresting he was probably made from vanilla extract, admitted he hadn't heard of them anymore; but I really didn't expect him to - this is the guy who danced with his mother at one of the most exclusive London nightclubs on the night of his *cough* fixed *cough* victory. Anyway, the song is taken from RATM's debut, eponymous album from 1992. It is one of the best, and most influential albums of the last twenty years and it is just awesome. Seething with anger, hatred, and injustice, alongside spiralling, searing guitar, each of the ten tracks is a damning antitribute to the American Dream. Killing In The Name Of, as the premier single from that album, is one of the most powerful political rock songs ever penned; primarily about the Los Angeles riots of that year, but by itself, it's a damning, flaming, swear-fuelled octane tirade railing against any and every establishment that ever existed. Therefore, as the ultimate revolutionary's anthem, it is the perfect opponent to Simon Cowell and his popstar cloning factory.
The Climb is a different matter. In the beginning, it started out as a Miley Cyrus song. When you're covering tracks written by Disney, you need to start thinking about throwing in the towel. And the horrid reality of it all is that the original, country-western version is better. Sure, it's got mildly uplifting lyrics and builds up to a predictable crescdendo-finale - in a way it's reflective of the X Factor itself. But compared to the supercharged battlecry of Killing In The Name Of, it's a whimpering mouse. It's heart is in the right place - but then again, the same can be said of George W Bush. That's the most I can say about it, because it's boring, and medicated and... well, crap. The X Factor in general is fairly pants; it's like Cowell looked at all the cliches of modern television, multiplied by 100 and mixed them altogether. Seriously, it's ridiculous and logically it should not be popular. Overdressed morons with preselected opinions walk down the stage, to a desk (what do they need that for?! It's not like Cheryl Cole is literate, even if she wanted to take notes) - to the soundtrack of The Omen. Then that announcer from E4 - originally a ripoff of Tom Baker's narration on Little Britain - tells us their names, because we're not smart enough to remember them week-to-week, whilst sounding like your estranged horny uncle. Then Dermot O'Leary stands up in the same suit every week - the fashion rule that forces poor Cole and Minogue to fit into more spectacular dresses each episode apparently doesen't apply to men - he never takes that suit off. And then, for the rest of the programme, there's just this cheap kareoke thing , and each new bland individual is introduced with unflattering closeups in front of an industrial fan.
We actually pay Simon Cowell our own money (through the telephone voting) for him to spoonfeed us terrible music. He says that he started X Factor because the British music industry was in a bad shape; 2005 was a pretty good year in music. We had Franz Ferdinand's second album, Bloc Party's debut, Jack Johnson reached the mainstream and the first album from Editors. Is this what we've been reduced to? Is this our collective musical identity - Cheryl Cole wailing on about how she's going to fight for this love? It genuinely scares the core of my being to think that 18 million people have zero music taste.
I was reading a Mailonline (I was linked, I wouldn't willingly stray into that Tory/Celeb news warzone) article about the singles' battle reaching its climax tonight, and the comments below were just poor. The best was the claim that "we watch the X Factor and vote because we're genuinely interested in furthering the lives of some talented young people" - I'm very bemused that someone thinks ITV's premier cashcow is one huge educational excercise for just those 12 kids. If they really want to help out young people then give that £1.50 that went to the vote, to a charity like Frank or Shelter. Ultimately, the X Factor is democracy - the shit, mobocratic side of democracy. Democracy barely works as it is (Churchill said that "democracy is the worst form of government except when compared to all the other forms of government") - and stuff like I'm A Celebrity Get Me Outta Here might end up damaging real-life politics if people think that the point in casting their vote is to decide who's the best looking MP.
Music should never be a democracy. It is the only place, in our society, where true anarchy reigns. It is the ultimate meritocracy - creativity amplified. Don't like the Top 40? Make your own music. Put it on MySpace, busk in the streets. Go to the club nights at the Manchester Academy, trawl the record shops in the Northern Quarter and find a hidden gem, a rough diamond. Don't buy Susan Boyle's album (which was just announced to be Christmas No 1) because she's ugly and you feel sorry for her, buy it for her music. Music is individual, private - every song has a different meaning and a different sound for everyone. It can't work as a democracy. Therefore, we need a revolution. And Tom Morello and Zac de la Rocha are going to lead it.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Nelson's Glory
Do you remember being taught history in primary school? Well, it wasn’t “history” in the proper sense of looking back in time from a critical perspective. We just learnt about hot the Romans built bridges and why the Titanic sank and that sort of thing. But it undeniably imbues every British citizen with a sense of pride not unequal to the whole swearing-by-the-flag thing they have in wingnut America. Not least because Britain/England happened to win a hell of a lot of battles – throughout history we were either being heroically massacred to the last by foreign invaders or leading the charge against Napoleon's last stand at Waterloo.
But remember, we were led by some absolute headcases in the past. I mean, well done with Agincourt and all that, but it doesn’t hide the fact Henry V believed he was related to God. Nelson was a battlethirsty psychopath, who despite being hailed as a “military genius” decided, in the most crucial point in his career to ignore all naval tactics and sail his ship in between two other ones, on the grounds that “they won’t be expecting that!” Yeah, they didn’t expect it, but it didn’t stop them thumping broadsides into Victory. I mean, the British army only intergrated the idea of a "Forlorn Hope" - the first guys into the breach in the wall during a seige - once the other armies started doing it. These guys would charge through the gap efffectivly armed with just their bayonets to certain oblivion, on the premise that if they survived, they'd definately be promoted. Because it wouldn't be proper to be outdone in the Darwin Awards, of course.
Boudicca was essentially a crazy barbarian lady with a taste for blood, woad and hemlock; Robin Hood a sharpshooting, forest-dwelling (yeah, because living in the woods with a load of other blokes is normal…) kleptomaniac. Wellington, so ridiculously harsh that he got the nickname “the Iron Duke”, was confused by the idea of democracy when he became prime minister – on cabinet, he said “they did the most preposterous thing ever! They got their orders, but they wanted to discuss them!?” Maybe he thought that Parliament all just agreed simultaneously that him being the leader of the Empire was a “jolly good idea”.
When Henry VIII didn’t get his way, he formed his own religion – nowadays there’s an equivalent to his legacy, in Ron Hubbard’s Church of Scientology. And Elizabeth, ignored all sensible advice and sent her fleet to certain death for pride. She was just lucky they won. It’s no small wonder that when the BNP call middle england to arms, claiming they’re continuing Churchill’s legacy that it goes down a treat, because from the age of six onwards we’re basically brainwashed to admire these over-aggressive morons.
But remember, we were led by some absolute headcases in the past. I mean, well done with Agincourt and all that, but it doesn’t hide the fact Henry V believed he was related to God. Nelson was a battlethirsty psychopath, who despite being hailed as a “military genius” decided, in the most crucial point in his career to ignore all naval tactics and sail his ship in between two other ones, on the grounds that “they won’t be expecting that!” Yeah, they didn’t expect it, but it didn’t stop them thumping broadsides into Victory. I mean, the British army only intergrated the idea of a "Forlorn Hope" - the first guys into the breach in the wall during a seige - once the other armies started doing it. These guys would charge through the gap efffectivly armed with just their bayonets to certain oblivion, on the premise that if they survived, they'd definately be promoted. Because it wouldn't be proper to be outdone in the Darwin Awards, of course.
Boudicca was essentially a crazy barbarian lady with a taste for blood, woad and hemlock; Robin Hood a sharpshooting, forest-dwelling (yeah, because living in the woods with a load of other blokes is normal…) kleptomaniac. Wellington, so ridiculously harsh that he got the nickname “the Iron Duke”, was confused by the idea of democracy when he became prime minister – on cabinet, he said “they did the most preposterous thing ever! They got their orders, but they wanted to discuss them!?” Maybe he thought that Parliament all just agreed simultaneously that him being the leader of the Empire was a “jolly good idea”.
When Henry VIII didn’t get his way, he formed his own religion – nowadays there’s an equivalent to his legacy, in Ron Hubbard’s Church of Scientology. And Elizabeth, ignored all sensible advice and sent her fleet to certain death for pride. She was just lucky they won. It’s no small wonder that when the BNP call middle england to arms, claiming they’re continuing Churchill’s legacy that it goes down a treat, because from the age of six onwards we’re basically brainwashed to admire these over-aggressive morons.
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Why Alan Sugar Isn't Sweet
So, who screwed up our decade the most? Is it Blair, Bush, or Ben Elton? No - I don't really hate We Will Rock You that much, however smug it may be, with its horrid "ooh aren't we anti-mainstream" schtick, which is self-defeating, because the whole show is like a bad subversive fancy dress party where everyone's dressed up as an emo thinking they're really clever and making a profound metaphorical social comment through the medium of clothing.
No. I think it's Alan Sugar. The ultimate icon for all men. Straight-talking; he rose up from humble beginnings, made a fortune and starred in the only reality telly show it was ok for guys to watch. Conservative at heart and New Labour for the mercanary moment, with a sexist streak. Witness White Van Man reborn. And for all his ridiculous glory, wallowing in unseen political irony as Business Tsar, he seems beyond reproach. All he amounts to is a second-rate Bill Gates, except with added "dickhead". An estuary-english accent (that's fake cockney), sharp suits and Bentleys ('cos he's patriotic), the average bloke fell in love for the first time since he bought his first car. And how could they fail to; the target audience of The Apprentice was the type of geezah who was haggling at Floors-2-Go when the anti-war marches kicked off, who married primarily so he didn't have to wash the dishes himself, who reckons Richard Littlejohn's a guy with common sense, and who doesen't trust boys who wear skinny jeans because they might infect him with gay.
Sugar is everything that is purile and faux-decadent about Britain. London seems to have had a strange PR makeover as a colder Los Angeles, whilst bank executives play roulette with millions; Sugar is the champion of this leopard-print LDN. He paved the way for Piers Morgan, for Billy Conolly's documentaries, for Al Murray's once-satircal Pub Landlord being taken seriously, for Jim Broadbent being in every Britfilm ever, and for Andrew Sachs being forcefully deified as a National Treasure. Anything he ever did as a businessman was purely for money, and he's no different to Murdoch or Trump or Ambrovovich, those celebrated monopolists - except he's scummier and less solid. And the modern British man, having thrown away his metrosexuality in exchange for Nuts magazine and Jason Stratham movies, adores him. Because he's one of them; a cheap pub intellectual. Delboy, only richer. A man who'll always back the winnner - a guy without a cause or principles or courage and without any talent except one that lets him make millions from idiots only a few IQ points stupider than him. Thankfully (I think, anyway), David Cameron is too machavellian to put him - as so many lager savants would espouse - in the cabinet. Then again, stranger things have happened...
Oh, and two last gripes. I find Michael Mcintyre less funny as he gets more popular, and Timothy Spall got ruined by ITV - he ain't meant to be an action hero. There it is, I'm done.
No. I think it's Alan Sugar. The ultimate icon for all men. Straight-talking; he rose up from humble beginnings, made a fortune and starred in the only reality telly show it was ok for guys to watch. Conservative at heart and New Labour for the mercanary moment, with a sexist streak. Witness White Van Man reborn. And for all his ridiculous glory, wallowing in unseen political irony as Business Tsar, he seems beyond reproach. All he amounts to is a second-rate Bill Gates, except with added "dickhead". An estuary-english accent (that's fake cockney), sharp suits and Bentleys ('cos he's patriotic), the average bloke fell in love for the first time since he bought his first car. And how could they fail to; the target audience of The Apprentice was the type of geezah who was haggling at Floors-2-Go when the anti-war marches kicked off, who married primarily so he didn't have to wash the dishes himself, who reckons Richard Littlejohn's a guy with common sense, and who doesen't trust boys who wear skinny jeans because they might infect him with gay.
Sugar is everything that is purile and faux-decadent about Britain. London seems to have had a strange PR makeover as a colder Los Angeles, whilst bank executives play roulette with millions; Sugar is the champion of this leopard-print LDN. He paved the way for Piers Morgan, for Billy Conolly's documentaries, for Al Murray's once-satircal Pub Landlord being taken seriously, for Jim Broadbent being in every Britfilm ever, and for Andrew Sachs being forcefully deified as a National Treasure. Anything he ever did as a businessman was purely for money, and he's no different to Murdoch or Trump or Ambrovovich, those celebrated monopolists - except he's scummier and less solid. And the modern British man, having thrown away his metrosexuality in exchange for Nuts magazine and Jason Stratham movies, adores him. Because he's one of them; a cheap pub intellectual. Delboy, only richer. A man who'll always back the winnner - a guy without a cause or principles or courage and without any talent except one that lets him make millions from idiots only a few IQ points stupider than him. Thankfully (I think, anyway), David Cameron is too machavellian to put him - as so many lager savants would espouse - in the cabinet. Then again, stranger things have happened...
Oh, and two last gripes. I find Michael Mcintyre less funny as he gets more popular, and Timothy Spall got ruined by ITV - he ain't meant to be an action hero. There it is, I'm done.
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
Foundation Studies
At our school, sex ed, drugs warnings and all those other classes that were designed from faddish government posturing - classes that should really be umbrella-termed as "miscallaneous" - were covered in Foundation Studies. "FS" as we called it, was the dud subject. Not least because they gave us condoms and plastic penises for starter activities, or we were challenged to walk in a straight line with beer goggles on (they were somewhat inevitably stolen), but because they were taught by the worst teachers from every subject. It seemed that either they were being toughened up or that it was some big sick joke being played on them by the rest of the faculty, but they were definately the most easily-wound up teachers available. They were cannon-fodder - the first out of the trenches. This ran to such an extent that my class (9G) was notorious for sending teachers on their way - I think the record was six.
Getting us to make a presentation on the dangers of cannabis (for year nines, there are no dangers) was the downfall of one chemistry teacher; group-discussing our career prospects was another's (he got so annoyed he told one boy that they needed a "good old fashioned spanking"). But the most memorable class was when they had a fireman in - presumeably just to scare the shit out of us. Anyway, his hour-long presentation was similar to that scene in Mean Girls. He simply showed us pictures - apparently the best of his personal collection - of chewed up cars and chewed up drivers. Even though we were too young to even be thinking about driving he wanted to terrify us so much we'd never even be able to look at tarmac again without weeping. He had such wonderful motivational phrases as "One in three people die from their airbags!", "Ever sawn a man's legs off? No!?! So stop fidgeting!!" and "Seatbelts can cut you in half" or even "This guy had to be identified by a combination of his dental and fingernail records".
Bascially each slide was just a fleshy collage of mashed red pulp splashed across bits of twisted cars. Havoc-strewn carriageways with ripped limbs and eyeball sockets littered about the scene. Horrific carnage, and sobering stuff. Not the sort of thing you show to a class of 13 year-olds on an afternoon. I'm pretty sure he wasn't actually a fireman, because he had a prison haircut and no firetruck; he was the sort of guy who would fault the Saw franchise for being conservative with the gore. He just had a powerpoint full of torture porn and a single message: "Don't get in a car. Don't even think about cars. Why? Because YOU'LL DIE. YOU'LL BE CUT INTO A THOUSAND PIECES AND BLENDED AT 70MPH, AND I'LL HAVE TO TAKE PICTURES OF YOUR SHATTERED BRAINS. Don't even look at a wheel BECAUSE YOU'LL DIE. Class dismissed, be careful not to DIE".
Getting us to make a presentation on the dangers of cannabis (for year nines, there are no dangers) was the downfall of one chemistry teacher; group-discussing our career prospects was another's (he got so annoyed he told one boy that they needed a "good old fashioned spanking"). But the most memorable class was when they had a fireman in - presumeably just to scare the shit out of us. Anyway, his hour-long presentation was similar to that scene in Mean Girls. He simply showed us pictures - apparently the best of his personal collection - of chewed up cars and chewed up drivers. Even though we were too young to even be thinking about driving he wanted to terrify us so much we'd never even be able to look at tarmac again without weeping. He had such wonderful motivational phrases as "One in three people die from their airbags!", "Ever sawn a man's legs off? No!?! So stop fidgeting!!" and "Seatbelts can cut you in half" or even "This guy had to be identified by a combination of his dental and fingernail records".
Bascially each slide was just a fleshy collage of mashed red pulp splashed across bits of twisted cars. Havoc-strewn carriageways with ripped limbs and eyeball sockets littered about the scene. Horrific carnage, and sobering stuff. Not the sort of thing you show to a class of 13 year-olds on an afternoon. I'm pretty sure he wasn't actually a fireman, because he had a prison haircut and no firetruck; he was the sort of guy who would fault the Saw franchise for being conservative with the gore. He just had a powerpoint full of torture porn and a single message: "Don't get in a car. Don't even think about cars. Why? Because YOU'LL DIE. YOU'LL BE CUT INTO A THOUSAND PIECES AND BLENDED AT 70MPH, AND I'LL HAVE TO TAKE PICTURES OF YOUR SHATTERED BRAINS. Don't even look at a wheel BECAUSE YOU'LL DIE. Class dismissed, be careful not to DIE".
Saturday, 5 December 2009
Evil Emperor
Google are a bunch of wimps. In the last week, Rupert Murdoch (the head of News Corporation, neé SPECTRE), bullied them into limiting the amount of free access to some of his news websites, after accusing them of "stealing" his content. If you're not familiar with the shadowy gamesmaster of the media, he owns several of the UK's major newspapers (The Sun, The Times) as well as the wingnut Fox News in the US, and David Cameron, not to mention everything else that falls within the Iron Curtain of 20th Century Fox's evil empire. And as their owner, he is famed for influencing editorial decisions (It was the Sun Wot Won It in '92 for Major) with his own special brand of right-wing narcissism. He looks like Kim Jong Il's puppet from Team America: World Police, and his speeches are the verbal equivalent of a catastrophic reactor leak.
Anyway, the new rules are going to let us internet wanderers use Murdoch's plethora of sites five times a day before being asked to pay for the privalidge of his company's famed taste for hard, truthful and above all, unbiased information. This policy genuinely seems to have spouted directly from Murdoch's hubristic jealousy of the internet and the free data available to everyone. I don't want to endorse dystopian conspiracies, but his influence in the politics through his media kingdom is a very real threat; the Tories and to a lesser extent, Labour, follow The Sun around like a puppy asking for a treat after performing a trick. This is media realpoliticking in its most sinister manifestation; I'm not suggesting that Brown or Cameron actually formulate how to run the country by looking at the red-top headlines every morning, but Murdoch's share of the media holds the largest readerships and therefore the largest section of potential votes. Politicians pay far too much attention to him in pre-emptive tributes - which wouldn't be so concerning if Murdoch didn't appear to be fuelled by pure, unfiltered avarice. He is the ultimate arch-capitalist; I wouldn't be suprised if some day, deep in an apocolyptic future, he instigates an interstellar civil war with his godlike mental powers, whilst ruling both spacefaring nations from his Saturn-orbiting asteroid fortress as part of some dark scheme to finally destroy socialism.
What this could all add up to is the death of the true spirit of the web - the demise of the Online Dream. If Murdoch is successful in securing yet more concessions and eventually creates exclusively paid-for media websites, what effect will that have on other news websites? Will The Mirror, or The Telegraph follow suit, or my beloved Guardian, in order to keep competetive? For now I cannot see a market audience stupid enough to pay money to read Jeremy Clarkson's ejaculatory misinformed opinions, or AA Gill's anecdotes about murdering baboons like in the good old days. I mean, people do not search on a specific newspaper website for trustworthy information; people google it. Everybody knows newspapers are biased, and nearly all of their content, excepting breaking news, is skewed or slanted. This is not about Google "stealing" news, (nobody can really believe the Murdoch press is the only source of news) this is nothing more than sheer global monopolisation and absolute capitalist excess.
I sincerely hope Google stands up for itself, because it is the greatest symbol of freedom of information. I want Comment Is Free to stay free - for people to enjoy the unbridled liberty that the internet grants us - for better or for worse. This man would threaten everything that gives us the truth: not just the internet, but the BBC and all the other wells from which we can draw knowledge. Murdoch trying to monetise his online territories is equivalent to the British raising taxes from the Thirteen Colonies: we need a George Washington, or else our virtual New World will become enslaved forever.
Anyway, the new rules are going to let us internet wanderers use Murdoch's plethora of sites five times a day before being asked to pay for the privalidge of his company's famed taste for hard, truthful and above all, unbiased information. This policy genuinely seems to have spouted directly from Murdoch's hubristic jealousy of the internet and the free data available to everyone. I don't want to endorse dystopian conspiracies, but his influence in the politics through his media kingdom is a very real threat; the Tories and to a lesser extent, Labour, follow The Sun around like a puppy asking for a treat after performing a trick. This is media realpoliticking in its most sinister manifestation; I'm not suggesting that Brown or Cameron actually formulate how to run the country by looking at the red-top headlines every morning, but Murdoch's share of the media holds the largest readerships and therefore the largest section of potential votes. Politicians pay far too much attention to him in pre-emptive tributes - which wouldn't be so concerning if Murdoch didn't appear to be fuelled by pure, unfiltered avarice. He is the ultimate arch-capitalist; I wouldn't be suprised if some day, deep in an apocolyptic future, he instigates an interstellar civil war with his godlike mental powers, whilst ruling both spacefaring nations from his Saturn-orbiting asteroid fortress as part of some dark scheme to finally destroy socialism.
What this could all add up to is the death of the true spirit of the web - the demise of the Online Dream. If Murdoch is successful in securing yet more concessions and eventually creates exclusively paid-for media websites, what effect will that have on other news websites? Will The Mirror, or The Telegraph follow suit, or my beloved Guardian, in order to keep competetive? For now I cannot see a market audience stupid enough to pay money to read Jeremy Clarkson's ejaculatory misinformed opinions, or AA Gill's anecdotes about murdering baboons like in the good old days. I mean, people do not search on a specific newspaper website for trustworthy information; people google it. Everybody knows newspapers are biased, and nearly all of their content, excepting breaking news, is skewed or slanted. This is not about Google "stealing" news, (nobody can really believe the Murdoch press is the only source of news) this is nothing more than sheer global monopolisation and absolute capitalist excess.
I sincerely hope Google stands up for itself, because it is the greatest symbol of freedom of information. I want Comment Is Free to stay free - for people to enjoy the unbridled liberty that the internet grants us - for better or for worse. This man would threaten everything that gives us the truth: not just the internet, but the BBC and all the other wells from which we can draw knowledge. Murdoch trying to monetise his online territories is equivalent to the British raising taxes from the Thirteen Colonies: we need a George Washington, or else our virtual New World will become enslaved forever.
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