your mind and we belong together

It must be annoying for thin controller Seamus Milne to have Dominic Cummings running the Conservative Party strategy. Cummings might not believe in the Conservative way of doing things, but he plays a tidy hand when it comes to strategy.

There’s a warped humour in the way Cummings rubbishes the Party’s intentions and at the same time helps them slogan their way to victory. No wonder he’s suggesting a Great Britain Futures department, which will, no doubt contain himself in some guise or other.

Haplessly, Mr Milne set a daft strategy to fight the top 50 Conservative seats instead of defending the marginals. It led to tears and the potentially decade-long demise of the Labour Party. Milne might have liked being considered as Corbyn's brain or secret policeman and manages to dodge his way into longevity, despite those around him falling or about to be pushed.

Even the working party that has been assembled to discuss and adjudicate on the reason for failure seems ill-judged, when so many doorsteps could probably explain it in a couple of sentences.

Still, it will deflect attention for a couple of months and perhaps some will forget the dominant issues.

It is also somewhat academic now because the Clown can do pretty much whatever he likes, removing judicial powers, stuffing the Lords with supporters and tipping a few more unelected into his Cabinet.

Everyman is happy now that Brexit can get done, shares are drifting up, the pound is getting stronger, so it must be all right for some people. The turkeys voted for Xmas and are oven ready, as Dom might joke.

mendacity vs cognitive dissonance and confirmation bias

Along the Great Northern Way, through the red wall, noticing a symbolic landmark of the north as we passed Ferrybridge cooling towers.

Even they look forlorn nowadays, originally eight of them and an instant landmark, we're down to three now because the others have been demolished.

I won't look for symbols though, instead I'll now be forced to turn to the city pages to watch the next stages of the campaign unfold, unhampered by any leader-driven opposition. A case of the uppers vs the downers.

The press snapshot tells part of a story ~ on the left hand side is Carrie and to the right is the Artful Dodger. Only the Sunday Times seemed to capture the full mise en scène, maybe with airbrushed strings?

let's split this crazy joint

Can't let it get to us. Tree. Lights. Action.

aletheiometers all 'round

I've got a new new alethiometer. We're all going to need one now.

Boris 'Le Menteur' Johnson and his gangsters have been elected. 'Brexit is easy,' we're told and the pound is already climbing to new heights.

The update for the new model quite simple. Stand the old compass near to the new one and, much like an iPhone, it'll do the updates automatically.

Now, I asked it "what's happening?" and got "wild man, serpent, globe" from the first reading. It's trying to tell me that a maniac who falsifies is grasping great political power.

Surely not?

2019 and 2017 vote split

A quick scout around the statistics from the current election and the preceding one shows a few interesting things:

• Conservatives achieved an increase in vote of a little over 1%. Labour dropped about 8%.
• For Conservatives to get a seat, they needed around 38,000 votes.
• Labour need around 50,000.
• Last time it was Conservatives 43,000 votes per seat and Labour 49,000 votes per seat.
• It illustrates the leverage of the last 329,000 votes to gain an extra 66 seats for the Tories. That works out to around 5000 votes per seat tipped.

No doubt the strategists had done these type of calculations ahead of the election.

tom waits for everyman

There's a hole in the ladder, a fence we can climb
mad as a hatter, you’re thin as a dime.

Go out to the meadow, hills are a green
Sing me a rainbow, steal me a dream.

Don’t plant your bad days. They grow into weeks. The weeks grow into months. Before you know it, you got yourself a bad year.

Take it from me - choke those little bad days. Choke ‘em down to nothing.

car park fenne lily

Sitting in the train station and listening to a song about a car park.

wrapped in a pink sucker punch

I received one of those Spotify Wrapped summaries today.

It's a kind of sucker punch with the choices it's made (see what I did there?)

It is as if it took the last 2-3 albums that I played and then mixed up the tracks a bit. Here are the 30 second cuts of 'my' top tracks. There's 100 in the jukebox, feel free to scroll or play them...

Maybe I've worked it out. It'll be when I put on some chillout music whilst I'm cooking a Thai curry or something like that. Could it be when I accidentally left the Sonos running and went away for a few days?

The top selections compare very strangely with last.fm, where I used to use to track my music choices and which did a pretty good job of name-checking the right kind of bands. Regularly it would deliver a roll-call of the usual suspects. Well, my usual suspects, in any case. Not so with Spotify which must hunt around the streamed edges aligned to a marketing business model.

The wrapped cover art for my 2019 album seems to be Sigrid on a Tory pink album cover. My top track appears to be Beautiful Trash, by Lanu (ft Megan Washington) - though I'm sure I recognise that drum loop from something else?

It seems that others are just as mystified.


Maybe it is all of those long coffee mornings, when I'm listening to a playlist? Perhaps the miles of motorway driving to Absolution and Swordfishtrombone just don't get through to the hit-counter? Even my recent Billy Bragg revision appears to have gone unnoticed.

Or perhaps if it comes from my library instead of me streaming it? I don't know. I just don't know.

where's mobbutt?

More cynical propaganda from the Tories today. They've arranged postal delivery of a 'You & your family brochure'. It is A3 folded on matt 100gsm and printed in a selection of scorching neon colours and styled to look like a free magazine illustrating what, I assume, PR millennials think boomers will like.

It is so trite and Daily Mail styled that I felt affronted to have a copy delivered to our letterbox. There's miniscule thin writing on the front that announces that it comes from Alan Mobbutt on behalf of the Conservative and Unionist Party, SW1H 9HQ.

There's a need to hunt around the document to find this information, helpfully printed out of registration in a lurid pink section of the leaflet. I doubt whether most people even spot it. It complies with the law but hovers right on the thin edge.

Then try to find this publicist of the Conservative Party; does anyone know him? I reckon he is in hiding. Not in LinkedIn, Twitter or on Google. An incredible act of self-erasure. Perhaps he is ashamed?

fishy

Well, the season of Christmas Parties has started and I found myself at my first Xmas lunch during the week.

A subtle change. We still had Xmas Crackers, but this year they were low-carbon-footprint eco-friendly ones. That meant, inside the exploded cracker was a joke and an interesting fact. Also a paper hat, but no small gift.

Instead, a picture of the small gift (which could be a thimble, a fake moustache or a conjuring trick). The picture included a description of the original item and an explanation as to why it was bad for the planet. Ah, the nostalgia of a Fortune Teller Fish...

Anyone who has ever attended an office party will recognise the paperclips, mini staplers and staple extractors, pencil sharpeners, mini-biros and packs of coloured pencils that formed the bulk of the cracker content. Like a short raid on the stationery cupboard. Here's a few of the jokes. Feel free to print out and cut up.

And of course there's always:

• What do you call a fear of climbing down chimneys? SantaClaustrophobia.
or
• How do you make Lady Gaga cry? Poker face
or even
• Why did the protester let of steam? Because he was kettled
and perhaps
• Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it was walking to work as it could no longer afford the train fare.

I'll leave the one about the difference between a foot spa and a bad drummer to your imagination.

Nam June Paik at Tate Modern - it's a mass age

I wonder if there's a way to summarise the Nam June Paik exhibition at the Tate? I looked at the beginning of it. A Buddha, looking at a TV showing a screening of the Buddha, filmed on a small camera. How very Zen. Or maybe how very X Factor?

The majority of this show builds from this simple idea, which I did find somewhat monotheistic. A kind of 'god is in the television' which I couldn't help supplanting with an 'Idiot's Lantern' viewpoint.

For me Nam June Paik's theme was worried around, in some cases, it was deconstructed. For a while, it was blended with the playful interpretations of Joseph Beuys, and then, at the end of the sequence, it showed a kind of modern information overload. Noisy and multi-dimensional.

I could understand what Nam June Paik was trying to address, but this might be a case of "the medium is the message" stretched to breaking point.

Le Mans '66 - a 7000 rpm movie

I wasn't sure what to expect with the Damon/Bale movie about the Ford Shelby car construction. I didn't know the background except that Le Mans is where people drive round and round for 24 hours. To be honest, I'd got it mixed up with Nurburgring in my mind.

But the movie was fine. Gritty car action with a playful relationship between Christian Bale attempting a Brummy accent and Matt Damon attempting a Texan one.

The directors added Typhoo tea swigged from an enamel mug for Bale to boost the authenticity and a JR hat for Damon, but really, it didn't matter. The storyline was simple and un-nuanced. America needed to invent a car to trounce those troublesome Italians. Hence the `US name for the movie: Ford vs Ferrari.

It all played out predictably, including some epic car races, which really benefitted from all the immersive sub-woofers and surround sound available in the tiny 40 seater cinema. The crowd in the cinema actually cheered when Ford won the Daytona 500.

Sure, there was referances to bits of cars in it but it was playfully hot brakes and jamming doors that created the drama rather than ECU remapping. And I now know what the 40 in Ford GT40 stood for. And what the wooden wedges were used for.

Indeed, the whole movie was delightfully analogue with dials, buttons and small clock sized stopwatches.

A Saturday morning picture for the boys. Vrrrroooomm.