black and white thinking

Cap'n Kev is an Aussie. Australia has many fine people, and some of them are liberal thinkers. On the other hand, when white South Africa came to an end, the role of world capital of white supremacism fell to Australia, where many Aborigines live in bantustans in poverty, drunkenness and disease.

Albert leaked me a copy of his email correspondence with Cap'n Kev:

Kev: Did you see that TV show that said there was a link between race and intelligence?

Albert: What's the punch line? ;)

Kev: It looks at IQ studies over many years that say the same thing; blacks are dull, east asians are smart. We're somewhere in the middle.

Albert: I reckon IQ is a social concept, not a scientific quantity like speed or weight. I mean IQ is by definition a measure of those human qualities that allow people to function especially well in modern western society.

If the world had developed differently, perhaps with a hotter climate, and Australian Aboriginals had survived best and dominated the world, their culture might measure people using something called perhaps AQ, reflecting people's abilities in tracking, bush tucker, etc. Whiteys might be down at the bottom of that scale.

Thank goodness things didn't pan out that way, or we would be surviving on reservations as no-hopers, with no interests except drugs, coffee, horse racing and slot machines.

Today's photo reflects the infinite number of possible worlds, and the current perfect Albert.

outlook

To a man with a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail. Since I started strengthening my grip with those coiled spring handles, everything suddenly looks like a neck to wring.

I've been banking on the return to work to bring back the joie de vivre, but I'm still waiting for it to kick in.

Even though I'm glad I stayed away from last weekend's deifheid barbie and babble, I didn't make good use of my freedom, and the evening felt wasted.

I swam yesterday in sunshine but took little pleasure in it.

The wasps have been stinging for 3 straight days. You can't blame them when the bonehead hacking at their tree just won't take the hint.

I stupidly popped a tooth out of its moorings. The one that was so laboriously root-canalised last year. Now I've to wait and see if it goes ballistic and has to be pulled.

Thanks to the marvellous bliss pills, I'm immune to low spirits. But there's more to optimism than just a lack of pessimism.

Next week the clients will come in, and things will take off. That's nice, but the day will come when I stop work for good, and what will I fall back on then? My one and a half friends (even less since the dog died)? I daresay I could keep busy in the garden and on the web, but there's something to be said for euthanasia.

Happily, these are only feelings, which will pass.

PS - I was simply tea-deprived since Monday. One cup later, and the world's pretty wonderful again. Muddah Faddah kindly disregard this letter.

mind and body

Getting on pretty well with my office-mate at work. Talk quite a bit. He appreciates me when I'm right, and stands up to me when I'm wrong. His sense of mischief goes well with my gallows sense of humour.



During the holidays, this was what I saw from my bed in the mornings.

Dreadful! Thankfully two of theme were only on temporary loan from work.


I downloaded two tracks from Electric Music... by Country Joe and the Fish. Strange how music that used to freak me out, can now sound so lovely and centering. I can actually hear each instrument now, instead of a single wall of angst.

I was immersed in that album one night, while minding Vinnie while he was tripping. As we listened to the circus-type music, he suddenly got the urge to visit the circus down in Leith. Against my better judgement I sat on the pillion while he piloted his scooter across the city. When we arrived intact at the other end, Viinne said for the whole ride he believed he was piloting a Spitfire, and all the cars were Messerschmitts. I hated the ride on the ferris wheel - Vinnie was cackling away and trying to capsize our bucket. Until then, I had assumed that the tripper, not his carer, was supposed to be the one in mental danger.


Pruning the mango tree, I was stung by several bees all at once. Face, arms and hand. I applied the bicarbonate of soda remedy, and within a few minutes it was bearable enough to forget about. I expect some people might say the bees are instant karma for my garden burning last week. Speaking of burns ...



(Not) The Selkink Grace


Some hae feet but cannae tweet
Some would Skype but want it
But we have Virgin
Of that we're certain
And sae the lord we thank it



(Not) To a Mouse

Wee Courin' Timorous Toastie
You're the lunch I like the Mosty
So I would chase thee with murderin' prattle
and if I don't catch thee, I'm sure the cat'll