HOME Wednesday, 4 July 2001

On his recent visit to Ireland, the head of the EU Commission, Mr Prodi, admitted, along with Bertie Ahearn, that they had been lying when they said during the referendum on the Nice Treaty, that it was necessary for the enlargement of the EU. Now they admit that there is no legal reason to prevent enlargement even if the Treaty is not ratified. They tried to wiggle out of it by saying that it was necessary in order to put certain political institutions in place. They didn't say what they were, but I think we all know.   What passing the Nice Treaty will do (among other things) is change the voting structure so that the four larger countries can dominate the rest of us. It will no longer be a Europe where every country has equal respect. Everything will be done for the benefit of the larger countries.   I knew all along that they were lying, of course. It comes naturally to politicians. What amazed me is that they have now admitted it. Either they're stupid as well as being underhanded, or else they think that all the rest of us are even more stupid than themselves. An example of their stupidity is their arrogant insistence that the Treaty cannot be renegotiated. If they want it ratified now, it will have to be renegotiated. Of course, they could forget about it altogether, if its only intentions were to bolster the control of the Big Four.   Another example of the dishonesty of the politicians, is Ahearn's remarks on the Referendum Commission, who did a marvellous job, at very short notice, in putting both the benefits and non-benefits of the Treaty before the people. It doesn't suit Mr Ahearn that people should be told the truth. So he has decided not to allow the Commission to give both sides of the argument any longer. That, said this advocate of democracy, should be left to the protagonists. In other words, in future, we can expect to hear half-truths and downright lies from both sides, rather than a balanced assessment of both sides of the issue. In cases like this, whichever side is stronger will carry more weight through the sheer volume of its arguments, and, of course, Ahern is banking on this.   I think it shows, that this is not a full democracy, that even in the 21th century, "some animals are more equal than others."

Monday, 9 July 2001

There's a despicable little mite which takes many banal shapes and sizes, each more uninteresting than the last, a waste of ink and a waste of paper. His mission in life is to render newspapers and cheaply produced magazines as forgettable as they possibly can be, to stifle originality and innovation and to destroy the best laid plans of typographers and compositors. You know him by many names as uninteresting and unoriginal as himself, but I know him only as Captain Clipart.   It may have seemed a good idea at one time, to have free little bits of artwork available to brighten up the look of a newspaper's or magazine's pages, but, even aside from the total lack of context between clip art and the text, (where it sits, like an abandoned wreck on the roadway, just where the eye can run smack up against it,) it never was a good idea.   You will sometimes see illustrations in books by artists who seem not to have read the story - they are doing their own thing and the text is doing another - but even at worse, there is a vague sense that they belong, that they were invited in, no matter how mistakenly. Clip art, however, seems to come from a totally different world, and is so out of place that the best analogy I can think of is that it is like putting manure upon the rhubarb on your plate and putting custard on the stalks in the ground.   Those uninspired little pieces of dead lines not only add nothing to the text, but they can turn the whole page into an unreadable eyesore. They elbow their way into tightly fitting spaces, giving the weary eye no rest, and, in some cases, forcing it to hop over them in order to continue reading.   I have seen a few pieces of clip art, that could stand on their own, as minor balm to the eyeballs, but putting them where they don't belong does nothing for themselves or the text they are polluting. Put them on the walls, where we can sit and enjoy them, but keep them away from the article or story, which have enough to do to keep the reader's attention, even without the irritating presence of clip art in a text land.

Wednesday, 11 July 2001

It's hard for me to say anything about politicians these days without being accused of overkill.  "You're always attacking them - the poor politicians."   They are, of course, something to write about. They provide unlimited opportunities for smart remarks because they affect peoples' lives so much. But I cannot say I have any sympathy at all for them. Whatever criticism they get, they bring it on themselves. The frustrating thing is that they are so thick-skinned that it rolls off their hides like water off a duck's back. Happy and rare the writer that can really sting them.   They are quite oblivious as to what is best for the country, or the people they are supposed to serve. Their main concern is for themselves. Within the past twelve months in this country they have shown their plain contempt for the ordinary person.   First they faced down the nurses and junior doctors in their attempt to get a raise and reasonable and safe working hours. As soon as that was dealt with, they gave themselves a whopping rise, right in the middle of a dispute with the teachers over a pay rise. And the teachers had no sooner been sent away with fleas in their ears, than they gave themselves a huge expenses rise, earlier pensions, and "allowances" that the ordinary person can only dream about, to retired former leaders.   What are we supposed to think? Obviously Bertie Ahern and Mary Harney are under the impression that we don't think at all. And to crown it, all the political parties now want to deny us freedom of knowledge, by trying to ban opinion polls one week before elections, because, they claim, the "media" are always harassing them and upsetting the smooth running of their cosy little cartels.   Meanwhile the never ending Tribunals roll on, without any of the high-powered figures investigated being held to account, as the legal men fatten themselves like maggots on the decaying corpse of the country.   It must be a nightmare. I sure hope I wake up soon.

Tuesday, 31 July 2001

I have read Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes, a copy of which I got in the library. I had already read and heard all the claims and counter-claims about it, which appeared to boil down to one assertion: that he had made it all up. This wouldn't upset me in any way. Most of the best stories are made up, for the very good reason that you can make them turn out exactly as you want, not as fate might decree.   As entertainment, Angela's Ashes is first class, although I have to say that the only place I have read anything like it, where degradation of the lowest degree is evaluated from a humorous viewpoint is Flann O'Brien's The Poor Mouth and The Hard Life.   Since I had just recently read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith, I noted the similarities between the father in that book and the father in Angela's Ashes. Both were confirmed alcoholics, and both were good fathers to their children, although, perhaps, Johnny Nolan could control his drinking a little more that Malachy McCourt.   One thing in the book, that would seem false even in a fictitious story, was the remarkably Tweedledum-Tweedledee similarities of the ways of teaching, through a sort of repetition, of two different teachers. It had faint echoes of Wackford Squeers' methods (in Nicholas Nickleby) and stronger echoes of Myles na Gopaleen's Catechism of Cliché.   I am not for a moment accusing McCourt of plagiarism, and writers will always be influenced at some stage in their lives by other writers. To learn from some master is always the best way. I am just saying that these are the thoughts that went through my head when I read it and it does rob it of some of its uniqueness.