protest

"go on, do it if you have to. this is stupid. you're a bloody fool."

"don't be like that. look, i'll just do it quickly. and if i don't do it soon, you'll get a parking ticket. they're all over this quarter about now."

we'd stopped the car right by one of his posters and in a huge puddle. i had to stretch my leg over it to get to the pavement. in the end the drizzle was just fine because it had softened the layers underneath where it had seeped in. i couldn't help myself but i had to look up and down the street before i tore the damn thing down. it's better not to look, to try to be completely natural so as not to attract the attention of anyone who might be keeping an eye on the area. at least Paris doesn't have anywhere near as many cameras as London or Berlin

it came off in three thick, soggy layers of paper and glue which i crumpled up as best i could and fumbled my way as nonchalantly as possible to the car boot. Ariane opened the boot and in they went

the car had got a bit steamy while waiting. Ariane always turns off the engine and aircon, bless her. i just had to do the romantic Montmartre thing and lean over and kiss her. i just couldn't help it. "what about that woman behind, sitting outside the cafe? the one who looks a bit english... a bit trippy-hippy?"

she looked in the rear view mirror like a pro. "her? no...she's ok. if someone was watching they'd pretend not to be interested but she's interested in everything. a tourist, i think. sometimes watchers have kids with them, but never a teenager. they're just too unreliable. she's legit, for sure."

she sparked up the engine and we left.

later on, back at the camp, i took a good long look at the poster. 'Be Safe, Happy and Thrive', it said, and further down 'Remember to report any suspicious activity to your local Neighbourhood Caring Committee'. i'll hand it to to them, getting people to spy on their neighbours under the guise of caring for each other was one of his - Loquax's - masterstrokes. it was a serious offence to tear down one of these posters and we'd just done 30 layers in one fell swoop. all of them had the ludicrous face of that bastard and some similar message with a sinister double meaning, but in a nice shiny wrapper. he gave most people the creeps but it was either him or that nasty bastard. there wasn't much of a choice of President and i'd rather have a clown like Loquax than that other guy, because he's even worse and he knows what he's doing. it's bad enough as it is for us artists

the internet was working. i took a look at facespace and there was something about another protester getting arrested. they all looked the same - an evil, redhaired clown - and i think it was organised in some way, because everyone knows you're not allowed to impersonate the President

the real UKIP website

another conversation with Facebook

well, Facebook: i've been wondering why you haven't replied to my letter. i think that's a bit rude since it was you who asked how i was feeling, and i was only trying to show some interest in you and how you are. that sort of thing is a two-way street and i think most people get that bit - unless you're a bit of an emotional cripple, which i'm beginning to suspect

but it was nice of you to provide those cute 'feelings' icon/emoji thingys. it's been a while since we humans (you *are* human, right?) wrote using hieroglyphs but hey, those people built the pyramids so maybe it's not such a bad idea. however, i had a look at the range of emotions you suggest and it worried me a bit... here they are, just so you know:

"accomplished, alone, amazing, amused, angry, annoyed, anxious, awake, awesome, bad, beautiful, blah, blessed, blissful, blue, bored, broken, chill, cold, concerned, confident, confused, content, cool, cosy, crappy, crazy, curious, defeated, delighted, depressed, determined, disappointed, disgusted, down, drained, drunk, ecstatic, embarrassed, emotional, energised, excited, exhausted, fabulous, fantastic, fat, fed up, festive, fresh, frustrated, full, funny, furious, good, grateful, great, grumpy, gutted, happy, heartbroken, hopeful, hopeless, hot, hungover, hungry, hyper, ill, impatient, in love, incomplete, irritated, lazy, lonely, lost, loved, lovely, lucky, meh, mischievous, miserable, motivated, nervous, nostalgic, old, optimistic, pained, positive, productive, proud, refreshed, relaxed, relieved, restless, rough, sad, satisfied, scared, shattered, shocked, sick, silly, sleepy, sore, sorry, special, stressed, stuffed, stupid, super, surprised, thankful, thoughtful, tired, undecided, unwell, upset, wet, wonderful, worried, yucky"

ffs... wtf is this? do feelings like 'horny', 'sexy', 'homicidal', 'overwhelmed', 'weighed down by post-modern ennui', 'jaded and cynical but trying my best to keep a positive outlook', 'wanting to jump off the nearest high building', 'maniacally violent', 'terminally neglected and smelling of cat pee', 'ostracised because i'm constantly scratching my arse', 'viewing the imminent destruction of all we love and laughing at it' and 'expecting a fart of hiroshimal proportions' never figure in your world? and where's plain old 'negative'? how are you and i ever to have a meaningful conversation if we can't express these significant and commonly experienced emotions?

anyway, i've got to get back to my reading: we're taking a fresh look at Orwell's "1984". i've got to the bit where his colleague Syme says:

"Don’t you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we’re not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller."

... and there's this bit later on

'By curtailing frivolous and "fighting" words, the Party seeks to narrow the range of thought altogether, such that eventually thoughtcrime will be literally impossible. The same goes for disruptive or subversive behavior.'

where's the smiley-thingy that says 'doubleplusungood'?

good morning facebook

good morning Facebook. i'm quite touched that you ask how i'm feeling, but why do you never say anything about yourself? i'm beginning to wonder if you're ok, because it's not good to be so closed about your feelings... and bottling things up doesn't help, you know

or maybe you're a creepy voyeur type who's got some unconscious fear of people, and so observes from a distance without revealing anything themselves? i'm not sure if i want to let you know any more about me if you're one of those. i saw a film once about a guy who did that and he ended up killing himself, but not before he pissed everyone off

but really: there are so many things i don't know about you: what your real name is, if you're single, what you do for a living, where you live, if you've ever been married, where you went on holiday - do you even take holidays? somehow i don't think so

but i do know this much: you're very, very rich and you seem to know everything about everyone. it seems that literally millions of other people trust you with their secrets but i'm a bit bothered that you in fact might be a very clever con artist who's selling your knowledge to people i don't know

and that makes me feel a bit strange, to tell the truth. so yes, this how i'm feeling: a slightly nauseous mild paranoia tinged with a kind of cold anger, but all a bit diffuse, as i'm not completely sure if you're conning everyone. i think it's time for you open up, tell us all more about yourself, so we might trust you a bit more. honestly, sometimes it's like talking to a machine

The Politically Correct Little Red Riding Hood

(not mine: i found this online many years ago, about 1996)

There once was a young person named Little
Red Riding Hood who lived on the edge of a large
forest full of endangered owls and rare plants that
would probably provide a cure for cancer if only
someone took the time to study them.

Red Riding Hood lived with a nurture giver whom
she sometimes referred to as "mother", although she
didn't mean to imply by this term that she would have
thought less if the person if a close biological link
did not in fact exist.

One day her mother asked her to take a basket of
organically grown fruit and mineral water to her
grandmother's house.

"But mother, won't this be stealing work from the
unionized people who have struggled for years to earn the
right to carry all packages between various people in the woods?"

Red Riding Hood's mother assured her that she had
called the union boss and gotten a special compassionate
mission exemption form.

"But mother, aren't you oppressing me by ordering me
to do this?"

Red Riding Hood's mother pointed out that it was
impossible for womyn to oppress each other, since all
womyn were equally oppressed until all womyn were free.

"But won't I be oppressing Grandma, by implying that
she's sick and hence unable to independently further her
own selfhood?"

But Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her
grandmother wasn't actually sick or incapacitated or
mentally handicapped in any way, although that was not
to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what
some people called "health".

Thus Red Riding Hood felt that she could get behind the
idea of delivering the basket to her grandmother, and so she set off.

Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding
and dangerous place, but Red Riding Hood knew that this
was an irrational fear based on cultural paradigms instilled
by a patriarchal society that regarded the natural world as an
exploitable resource, and hence believed that natural
predators were in fact intolerable competitors.

On her way to Grandma's house, Red Riding Hood passed
a woodchopper, and wandered off the path, in order to examine
some flowers.

She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who
asked her what was in her basket.

Red Riding Hood's teacher had warned her never to talk to
strangers, but she was confident in taking control of her own
budding sexuality, and chose to dialogue with the Wolf.

She replied, "I am taking my Grandmother some healthful
snacks in a gesture of solidarity."

The wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little
girl to walk through these woods alone."

Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive
in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status
as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to
develop an alternative and yet entirely valid worldview. Now, if you'll
excuse me, I would prefer to be on my way."

Red Riding Hood returned to the main path, and proceeded
towards her Grandmother's house.

But because his status outside society had freed him
from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the
Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma's house.

He burst into the house and ate Grandma, a course of
action affirmative of his nature as a predator.

Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role
notions, he put on Grandma's nightclothes, crawled under the
bedclothes, and awaited developments.

Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said,

"Grandma, I have brought you some cruelty free snacks
to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing matriarch."

The Wolf said softly "Come closer, child, so that I might see you."

Red Riding Hood said, "Goddess! Grandma, what big eyes you have!"

"You forget that I am optically challenged."

"And Grandma, what an enormous, what a fine nose you have."

"Naturally, I could have had it fixed to help my acting
career, but I didn't give in to such societal pressures, my child."

"And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!"

The Wolf could not take any more of these specist slurs,
and, in a reaction appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he
leaped out of bed, grabbed Little Red Riding Hood, and opened
his jaws so wide that she could see her poor Grandmother
cowering in his belly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Red Riding Hood bravely
shouted. "You must request my permission before proceeding
to a new level of intimacy!"

At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the
cottage, brandishing an ax.

"Hands off!" cried the woodchopper.

"And what do you think you're doing?" cried Little Red
Riding Hood. "If I let you help me now, I would be expressing
a lack of confidence in my own abilities, which would lead to
poor self esteem and lower achievement scores on college
entrance exams."

"Last chance, sister! Get your hands off that endangered
species! This is an FBI sting!" screamed the woodchopper,
and when Little Red Riding Hood nonetheless made a sudden
motion, he sliced off her head.

"Thank goodness you got here in time," said the Wolf.
"The brat and her grandmother lured me in here. I thought I
was a goner."

"No, I think I'm the real victim, here," said the woodchopper.
"I've been dealing with my anger ever since I saw her picking
those protected flowers earlier. And now I'm going to have
such a trauma. Do you have any aspirin?"

"Sure," said the Wolf.

"Thanks."