Over There

Tonight I’m flying off for my “sabbatical” in Britishland, and as I’ve mentioned before, I’ll be Over There until about mid-September.

Because I don’t know what kind of Internet connectivity will be available in Thomas Hardy country, I’ve taken the liberty of plundering my archives of some interesting articles and essays, and will be posting said pieces for the next few days or so until I’ve figured the situation out. Regular blogging will then resume, only consider them as coming from behind enemy lines, so to speak. There will also be pics and such from various places such as Edinburgh, Lord’s and perhaps even from Stamford Bridge, home of Chelsea F.C. (of whom I’ve been a loyal fan since 1972). I’m not going to see my trip through a camera lens — I’m not Japanese, after all — but there will be shots of pubs and other places of interest so you’ll be able to see the locations of my several misadventures. (Evil Kim is stirring…)

Of course, the timing of the posts will generally be askew because of the time difference between the UK and the US. Also because hung over. But there will be at least some golden oldies from previous blogs to fill the void when my brain is full of bitter ale rather than creative juices.

What has amazed me in re-reading my old stuff is how many of these pieces have stood the test of time. There are of course some obvious anachronistic exceptions: for example, Tony “Scum” Blair is no longer PM of Great Britain, thank goodness, nor is Arnold Schwarzenegger governor of Gollyfornia (ditto). But the substance of what I wrote well over a decade ago is still current. The issues haven’t changed, only some minor circumstances and the dramatis personae.

Anyway, here I go. Wish me luck with the boarding process… or watch the news for the ruckus. (“At DFW Airport today, an angry passenger was arrested after inviting a TSA official to perform a sex act on himself…”)

Oh, let’s just have a sing-along:

~~~~~~“The Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming and we won’t be back until it’s over, Over There.”~~~~~~~~~~

Signs Of Life

So it  appears that British gun owners (yes, they have a few) may be “allowed” to defend themselves with deadly force if they are threatened by a terrorist attack. Well, that’s the theory, anyway.

Homeowners with gun licences could be encouraged to defend their communities in the event of a terror attack, according to a leading police chief. Alison Hernandez, police and crime commissioner for Devon and Cornwall, said shoot-to-kill powers could be granted in the event of ‘extreme circumstances’. Her comments suggest that farmers, firearms dealers and other licence holders could be used to defend remote areas from an attack by marauding gunmen. There have been concerns that large parts of rural Britain are vulnerable to a terror attack due to a national shortage of elite police marksmen. Last year, John Apter, head of the Hampshire Police Federation, said the nearest armed response team could be up to 70 miles away from some parts of the countryside.

As I read it, you must first be attacked by terrorists, and only then can you be granted the right to defend yourself? Note the weasel phrase “extreme circumstances”, because guess what? in Britishland,  you don’t get to decide what constitutes “extreme”; only the government can do that. And even then:

She said she would raise the idea with her force’s chief constable but admitted the legal implications were complex.

In other words, fuck all is going to get done, because once the lawyers are involved…

I should know better. Sorry; carry on, nothing to see here.

The N-Word

Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora Nigora

There, I’ve said it. Although I don’t understand all the fuss about some Uzbeki tart marrying an elderly Scottish millionaire who’s nearly twice her age.

By the way, if you’re wondering whether Bannatyne is wearing a Black Watch kilt in those wedding pics, he isn’t. That’s the Clan Duncan tartan. Completely different.

Apparently, the old fart and his new wife may try to have a baby. Now that’s enough to make one snigger.

 

 

Surrendering To Criminals

So here’s something to get you in a cheerful mood before the long weekend:

Police warn it is no longer safe to walk and talk on your mobile as scooter gangs pocket £2,000 an hour from drive-by phone snatches

As officers battle an epidemic of moped muggings, police are now warning the public not to stand on a curb or street corner with their phone in their hand or risk having it torn from their grasp by thugs who can sell on a single handset for £100.
Up to 50,000 offences a year are being committed by thieves on scooters and mopeds in the capital, while some teenage thieves are being arrested up to 80 times but not sent to jail.

Well, that last sentence is yer problem right there, innit? You stupid idiots. Especially when you have a situation such as seen in the pic below:

Somebody explain to me how this doesn’t constitute armed robbery, and why this little thug and his buddy do not qualify for at least ten years in jail? (Somebody from Britain, I mean. My US Readers are baying like a pack of hounds at this travesty.)

But it gets better.

Over the last 12 months a total of 15,100 mopeds and motorbikes were stolen in London compared to 10,704 the previous year.
Gangs of mainly teenage boys can steal scooters by simply breaking their steering locks.
Detectives are targeting at least 500 known offenders behind the spree.
Yesterday Superintendent Payne compared the desirability of mopeds to thieves as the ubiquitous Ford Cortina in the 1980s, saying: ‘This is the Ford Cortina of the 21st century, they are easy to steal and when we spoke to the manufacturer they said they can fix the problem but it’s going to be three or four years away. They are in the Ford Cortina bracket, you do not need any skill to ride them, you don’t even have to change gear.
‘The theft is all done on a stolen bike. Thieves can steal these bikes in less than 60 seconds, it’s really quick. [They] take hold of the handlebars and break the steering wheel lock by pulling it, it’s like a lump of metal. Most bikes are then stolen by just walking it round the corner and they either sell it on or use it to commit crime.’
The warning come after a spate of muggings in central London, with riders using weapons such as machetes and hammers to intimidate and injure their victims as they try and snatch their mobile phones.

I would probably end up in jail after intervening in one of these little romps.

How, you ask? Imagine having just nicked some fool’s phone out of his hand, and you’re driving off on your stolen moped feeling proud of yourself, when some old geezer (that would be me) steps into the street in front of you and smashes his thick wooden cane* across your face, causing you and your thieving buddy to crash and spill into the road like a broken bag of vegetables. Then said geezer runs over to you while you’re lying there stunned, and starts to put the boot into your ribs, and when he’s done with you, tries to rip your little hammer-wielding friend’s head off his body by pulling his helmet violently around in a full circle. And then things start to get seriously violent.

It’s probably a Good Thing that I’m spending only a little time in London, because otherwise I’d be spending a lot of time in London, if you get my drift. Because while these little shits are obviously part of a “catch and release” program, I have no doubt that I would qualify for a very stiff sentence.

Can’t be endangering the lives of violent criminals, after all. That’s against the law.


*Yes, I walk with a cane when I’m Over There, because my gouty toes start to ache after I’ve walked more than half a mile on city sidewalks, and I need the support.

Preparation

So while I’ll be in Britishland for my sabbatical (as I’ve chosen to call it), I’ve been invited to go watch the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo in early August.

I love Edinburgh; been there twice, can’t wait to get back, but I have a perennial problem in that I can’t understand a frigging word the locals say (I and Robin Williams both). Seriously, I once listened to a cabbie ranting about (I think) the new Scottish House of Parliament, and I caught maybe a couple of words out of the whole diatribe. Something about “costing a wee fuckload o’ poonds”, I think. Or maybe it was “coasting awee doon the goons.” Whatever.

I mean, these tools make Billy Connolly sound like Prince Charles — and yet when I complain about their incomprehensibility, then somehow I’m the idiot. As I once tried to explain to some porridge monkey in a pub right before the fists started flying, my “colonial” accent can be understood in every country in the world where English is spoken — but the Scots can’t even be understood on the south side of the fucking River Tweed. (I may have put it somewhat more bluntly than that, now that I think back; my memory is a tad hazy, probably from the “wee concussion” that the doctor told me about the next day. I only understood about a quarter of what he was saying, too.)

Anyway, so I’ve been watching the outstanding show Shetland on Netflix to get used to the cadence of Scottish speech, and to the vocabulary. It probably won’t help, because the BBC (or whoever) forces them to soften the Scottish accent to make it more comprehensible to non-Scots: and it’s still only a 50-50 shot that you’ll understand what they’re talking about.

When Churchill described the Americans and British as “two peoples divided by a common language”, I think he was referring to the Scots and pretty much everyone else.

But hey… it’s the Tattoo. I’ll get by.

International Comparisons

In my post about laws and traffic laws, Erik of No Pasaran! took me to task in Comments. According to him, I’m an Allyagottado — i.e. a slave to the law. (I should mention that Erik and I go back a long, long way; he’s one of the good guys, a rarity in Eurostan, and I don’t take his criticism of me to heart.) Read his comment first, but let me say at the outset that it’s basically a rant against traffic speed limits, with which I don’t disagree that much. (I should also point out that the entire point of my post was that apart from traffic laws, which to me are a minor irritation, I’m anything but an Allyagottado, but whatever.)

But that’s not what I want to talk about today. One of Erik’s points was that speed limits, or rather the lack thereof on Germany’s autobahns makes for efficient driving and few crashes. That’s by and large true, although when you do see a crash on the autobahn, it’s a doozy: seldom fewer than four or five cars totally wrecked, and multiple cases of serious injury and/or deaths. However, there’s a point that is seldom made by people who love the no-speed limit on Germany’s highways: the Germans know how to drive. And that’s a very salient point, because to get a driver’s license in Germany, you don’t just get handed one after a couple weeks of driver’s ed in high school; you have to enroll in a State-authorized Fahrschule and pass both a theory- and practical examination (here’s a decent overview so I don’t have to go into detail). It is not a cheap process, it is extraordinarily difficult, and unlike here in the United States, the Germans treat driving very much as a State-granted privilege and quite definitely not as an individual’s right. It is quite common for licenses to be suspended, sometimes for life, after multiple traffic infractions, and with no appeal. (In Germany, if you get angry at another driver and just make a rude gesture, there’s a good chance that you’ll be photographed by one of the hundreds of thousands of traffic cameras on the autobahns — oh yes, we Americans would just love that degree of privacy invasion — and you’ll lose your German driver’s license, possibly forever if it’s not your first offense.)

To repeat: driving is treated in Germany far more strictly than it is treated Over Here. And thus a comparison of the two countries in this regard is not only difficult, but incongruent. “Why can’t we have highway speed limits like the Germans?” is answered simply by, “We could, if we wanted to live under a Germanic system of licensing and control.”

To get away from the Germans (something we should do as a matter of course anyway*); I’m always amused by people of the gun control persuasion who never tire of comparing the U.S. gunfire homicide rates with those of Japan (a favorite of theirs, by the way). “Why can’t we be more like the Japanese?” they wail as they wave around Japan’s 0.00000001% statistic. Well, we could, if we Americans were prepared to put up with the stifling social conformity and authority-worship of Japanese society, and the complete lack of a Second Amendment in our Constitution. But we wouldn’t, and shouldn’t.

Which brings us, finally, to the point of this particular post. Many foreign countries do certain things better than we do, or at least have it better than we do in certain respects. But as the above examples have shown, that superiority generally comes at a steep price, and is most often a price paid with a profound loss of personal freedom — or else, a profound loss of standard of living and quality of life — all of which are abhorrent to us.

If we are going to make an honest comparison, therefore, I’m not sure we Americans come off that badly, all things considered.

Oh, and Erik, if you read this: I think you’ll be hard-pressed to find too many instances in my writings where I “reflexively defend the authorities”any authorities. But hey, if it helps you make your argument…


*Of course, I exclude my German Readers from this observation because to a man, they are my kind of people: hard-working, law-abiding, freedom-loving and lovers of firearms, to name but a few common attributes. (And to Reader Sam R. in particular, over in Germanland: Vielen dank  für Ihre Großzügigkeit, if you’ll excuse my schreckliches Deutsch.)