Okay, I’ll take the headshot. But only if you let me pay for the bullet…
Did you see this article today? “A well publicized report this week that an estimated 1.5 million American children experienced homelessness in 2005-06 did not use the federal definition of homelessness. Instead, it used a different definition that grossly inflated the actual number.”
The National Center on Family Homelessness put together the study in question using a definition of “homeless” that includes kids staying with relatives or temporarily relocated (e.g. after Katrina). By this definition, they spin the utter bullshit statistic that 1 in 50 children in the States is homeless in any given year.
Whatever. My question is, who the fuck is National Center on Family Homelessness? Not them specifically. I mean, half the news stories I read every day were generated by the American Council for Healthy Knees or the Coalition for a Gluten-Free Tomorrow or Americans United in Cotton Underpants…thousands of the bastards, staffed by high-level, full-time employees and supported by PR firms and websites. And maybe with offices and company cars and annual meetings in Aruba. That’s a hell of a lot of money going down the wishing well. WHO PAYS FOR THIS JUNK? And why?
The peppery proprietor of Devil’s Kitchen has started to poke around the British world of fake charities, with a site called…ummm…Fake Charities.
Turns out, many of these organizations get, like, 1% of their money from real people donations. The other 99% comes from government — either the British government or the European Union. These are groups lobbying for things like higher booze prices or lower speed limits or restrictions on the internet. Paid for with our money (because government has no money. It maketh not, neither doth it sell).
So. Government wants a law, government funds “charity”, charity recommends law. Plus, many useless lefties with junk degrees get sweet jobs. Bonus!
With their dying gasp, newspapers tell us we’ll miss them when they’re gone — them and their original reportage. Well. If they were doing any, we might. Instead, they lazily regurgitate the latest position paper from the Won’t Someone Think of the Children? Foundation without ever troubling to tell us who they are and why we should care.
Some days, it’s enough to make a conspiracy nutcake outta me.
March 13, 2009 — 6:37 pm
Comments: 29
Half past Dickens and a quarter to Hogarth
I’ve also kept away from politics lately because, situated as I am in dark heart of Olde England, I am obviously expected to provide an American viewpoint on British politics. And…I am…completely unable to wrap my head around that. My every attempt to understand (let alone explain) British politics devolves into a mushy, superficial on the one hand this, on the other hand that shopping list of unhelpful observations.
It’s even harder to nail down since Drudge and Fox began linking to Daily Mail stories so much. The Mail describes a Britain that is batshit, racing headlong toward bugfuck, crazy. Well. Kind of. The Mail is an incredibly low-rent populist rag that makes its coin promoting that particular loony vision of Britain. On the other hand, they don’t make this shit up.
I want to say Brits are more cynical about government, but certainly Yanks can be plenty cynical. I am plenty cynical. But Brits somehow seem to expect their government to let them down. They accept tyranny, perfidy or incompetence as what government does the moment you look away. Whereas the American attitude seems to be, “we bled real blood to put you bastards in office because you said you were different.”
And yet British politics is fundamentally miles less corrupt than the American kind.
I am tempted to say British resentment feels likelier to boil over into violence. And yet, the British public has already absorbed insult after terrible insult without demur. I am puzzled by that. I think a lot of Brits are puzzled by that, too.
The British. Famously unflappable, right up until they become howling savages.
Or maybe that spirit has been thoroughly kicked out of them.
I don’t know. I’m a foreigner and everything seems scary and strange. But that thing that gives me the jim-jams about politics right now? It’s worse here.
And that’s really all I know.
March 10, 2009 — 9:31 pm
Comments: 15
Couple of milestones…
Heh. Somehow in the excitement of getting married and shit, I failed to note that February 14 was also the second anniversary of sweasel.com (not counting the few practice months over at WordPress). About the same time, we quietly broke the 200K mark — a fortnight’s traffic for the big dudes, but a matter of quiet pride in this little geekwad backwater.
I want to thank you guys for sticking with me in this last boring year of girly self-absorption. It was a cinch that upping stakes, moving to a whole ‘nother country and getting hitched was going to Gidgetize and Barbify my outlook for a while. For a politics-and-geekery blog, that’s some bad mojo right there.
I thought about putting the site on hiatus until my life settles down a bit (and my natural nerdliness comes roaring back), but my mama told me blogs which hiatus never really come back. And I don’t think I’m done running my mouth yet.
I’ll tell you something, though: I don’t like politics right now. I’ve been arguing ideas — and not always playing nice — for as long as I can remember, but I don’t recall ever being so profoundly uneasy about the tone of the conversation. The center cannot hold. Bad moon on the rise. Whatevs. There’s a smell of crisis and ozone in the air and I don’t know where we’re headed. Or why I’m in this handcart.
Arguing politics isn’t fun at the moment.
So I believe I shall enjoy Spring at Badger House for a while longer. Thanks to everyone who comes here anyway. Some day — I swears — there will be bile again. And vitriol.
Meanwhile. My mosses. Let me show you them.
March 9, 2009 — 8:27 pm
Comments: 40
Newts to you…
Uncle B informed me yesterday there are no turtles in England. No turtles. Anywhere. In England!
I’m speechless.
No turtles. No raccoons. No possums. No chipmunks. No skunks. No hummingbirds. It’s a vast black hole. There goes my whole damn recipe book!
February 28, 2009 — 8:18 pm
Comments: 14
I’m back! Did I miss anything?
My how time flies, etcetera. We hadn’t made any definite plans, and Britain threw us one of its surprisingly mild February weeks, so we mostly hung around home and did boring old people things in the yard last week.
Garden. Must learn to say “garden” instead of “yard.” Brits only use “yard” in the gritty industrial context of junk yards and brick yards and prison yards. A “back yard” to them would probably feature razor wire and abused German shepherds.
Alsatians. They call them alsatians.
Anyhow, we mostly stayed away from the innernuts, in an effort to break the cycle of…seeing everything as a cycle of something that needs breaking. So I’m just now working down the emails and congratulatory messages.
A sincere thank you to everyone who wished us well. We don’t get many drama queen moments in our little lives, and we roll around in them like…alsatians in pigshit.
And now — back to some serious blogging.
Psych! I don’t do serious blogging!
February 23, 2009 — 7:15 pm
Comments: 41
The fool on the hill
I got nothin’ today, so here’s a snapshot I snagged last week when we went for a nice long drive. I’ve been meaning to post it. That dark thing is the windmill on Hogs Hill near Winchelsea, which was renovated by and is currently the recording studio of Paul McCartney.
Once in a while, McCartney wanders into a pub for a beer. Afterwards, the locals are all, like, “guess who was in for a pint last week?”
“I don’t know, who?”
“Paul McCartney.”
“Oh, aye?”
And then everybody tries to act all casual about it.
It’s really cute.
February 12, 2009 — 8:24 pm
Comments: 41
Little wonder
Little wonder I get the trots when this is the greasy spoon we stop at for a burger and chips. It’s older than Queen Elizabeth.
The first one. With Bette Davis.
February 4, 2009 — 9:16 pm
Comments: 18
How to tell when the badgers have been at your corned beef
Please enjoy this random image off my camera.
Weasel has felt rather under the weather today. I’m hoping I’m just…hungover on lollipops and happiness and unicorns, and not coming down with something. Like the violent shits or something.
February 3, 2009 — 9:03 pm
Comments: 20
Underpants!
This is special for Uncle B, who was just twitting me for not having a weekend weasel up. And also for daring to dis his underpants. Two birds, one stone.
Hey, I heard a rumor there was a sports contest of some variety going on in the States today…
February 1, 2009 — 5:52 pm
Comments: 18
“baaa” is ungulate for “duhhhh”
January 24, 2009 — 10:09 am
Comments: 21