Santa Surfs Teahupoo
Story and Digital Waxadry by Warrigal
With satellite imaging showing the Arctic sea ice to have retreated to its lowest extent in living memory, reports are now coming in from Tuktoyuktuk, an Inuit settlement on the shore of the Arctic Ocean, that locals on Polar Bear patrol have rescued a man from floating pack ice. The man, diminutive of stature and wearing an improbable green and red outfit, said he was an “Elf”, a tribe unknown to locals, and said that his name was “Rollout D’Barrel”. When this name seemed to confuse the Inuit he explained that where he came from everybody had funny feelgood names.
“Whale meat makes me feel good.” A young local whispered to his little friend on the edge of the gathering.
D’Barrel somewhat incoherently claimed to have been trapped on the floe for some time and only survived by eating the contents of a Fortnum and Mason Christmas Hamper which he claimed was meant as a gift for an expatriate English family in Chicago, but he thought they wouldn’t mind given his circumstances. His story was proven when empty wrappers and a pressed metal tin containing the crumbs of consumed water crackers and an unopened jar of Ballachung was discovered on the floe after the rescue. D’Barrel said he had feared for his life when his floe had drifted close to a larger floe on which two trapped and starving polar bears where eyeing each other with gluttonous intent. D’Barrel said he believed that his outfit made him look like a ripe tomato and that the bears, being carnivores and unfamiliar with tropical salad fruits, decided to ignore him.
During a short stay in the settlement’s rudimentary hospital where he was rehydrated and encouraged to take some hearty seal broth, D’Barrel became agitated and said that a great catastrophe was working up at The North Pole. After being calmed he began the full telling of his story.
Rollout was team leader on “Wheeled Toys” and he and his crew had been out on the ice engaging in a team building exercise when the ice had cracked and he had drifted away from the others.. The locals being unfamiliar with “wheeled toys” and “team building”, then sought to discover just what he had been doing out on the ice and why.
D’Barrel was flumoxxed by their questions and becoming agitated again, replied testily, “I’m an elf, get it!? Wha’d’ya think I was doing? Where do ya think it all comes from, every year, year after year!? I’m talkin’ Christmas!!! Hain’t ya ever heard of Christmas?”
The locals, perplexed and feeling that their traditional hospitality may not be working, replied hesitantly that they didn’t have a “Krismus” but that if he really needed one they could send down to the capital, Iqaluit. They might have one.
“Santa?” Rollout asked, “Anybody?” “Your know; fat jolly old bloke in a red suit; naughty and nice; shortbread and mince tarts; the holly and the ivy, anybody?” They just looked from him to each other, some shoulder shrugging and looked back. “Is this Santa your headman?” One asked.
“Now ya talkin’! Yes, he’s my headman! Look he’s in big trouble. The summer ice is breaking down and it doesn’t come back as much in the winter. We figure we’ll have to relocate the entire operation within the next few years or the whole shebang will just sink to the bottom of the Arctic Ocean.”
“Shebang….?” There’s no cognate or equivalent in Inuit.
Well you can imagine it went on like this for some time. The questions flying over their heads and the answers dying in the air between them but finally Rollout managed to convince them that he wasn’t mad and that starving Polar Bears and melting tundra would be the least of their worries if Santa and the rest of the Elves were not rescued and the entire “shebang(?)”, packed up and crated to a new location. This “shebang”, the locals came to understand, apparently manufactured or warehoused an enormous variety of toys and treats that were then deployed globally at the height of the northern winter in an attempt to maintain the balance of global happiness and as a celebration of the peoples way of life. It sounded like a crazy idea to the Inuit.
“It is like whale meat!” the little fellow whispered to his friend.
Confusion still reigned as the people and Rollout prepared the canoes for the long journey to the North Pole. They offered Rollout a seal skin suit but he said that his red and green would keep him warm and off they paddled. It was a long way to the Pole and they had to overnight on some of the bigger floes. As they got closer the sea ice was packing up and they would soon have to changeover to the sleds. The dogs never liked travelling in the canoes.
When they finally arrived at the Pole there was nothing there. Well nothing they could see. Rollout produced a small device from his pocket and after entering a very long alphanumeric code, he punched the big red button in the middle. Suddenly it began to snow and sleigh bells could be heard in the air, holly was spontaneously popping into existence across the facades of several rather grand and elaborate ginger bread houses. The Inuit were most surprised. Their houses were good for keeping your meat but a house you could actually eat…, that was something else! All at once the scene was filled with small people similarly attired as Rollout, all rushing about as if all charged with some desperately urgent task. Somewhere a lugubrious and somewhat tuneless voice was singing about the weather outside being frightful.
“Look, let’s get inside and I’ll take you to meet Big Red.” Said Rollout to the startled Inuit
Rollout walked the stunned troupe up some stairs to a set of very large biscuit and icing doors. He ushered them through. They found themselves in a vast hall filled with production lines, rotary moulding machines, furnaces, the entire panoply of industrial equipment all chugging away to produce teddy bears and tricycles, dolls and domino sets, water pistols and Wii’s, everything and anything a child could want. Not the children of the Inuit of course. They would have little use for most of this stuff.
Crossing an overhead gantry above the ceaseless production lines the group entered a large and comfortable office and were surprised to find a big man with a most impressive hairy face. The Inuit, not having much facial hair, where particularly interested in the man’s snowy beard. He was stripped to the waist, wearing a pair of particularly lurid board shorts and trying to keep his balance on some sort of machine that was seeking to tip him off an equally lurid piece of foam and plastic, sharp at one end and with two fins descending from it’s lower surface. The Inuit didn’t think much of the thing. It was too small for seal hunting and it provided absolutely no cover from the wind.
The big man jumped off the machine and swiping up a nearby towel began to dry the perspiration from his vast pink body.
“Ho Ho Ho”, the big man laughed and seemed to be really enjoying himself “After it’s all over this year I’m going to take my holidays in Tahiti. Thought I’d get some big wave action in at Teahupoo. Just boning up on my drop technique.” It was then that he noticed Rollout and bounded over and embraced him in a sweaty hug. “Rollout, my dear boy. We thought we’d lost you. Things haven’t been rolling as smoothly in “wheeled toys” since your little adventure,” Santa winked, “and you’ve brought friends. How charming!”
Santa, looking this way and that, took Rollout aside and, sotto voce, whispered in Rollout’s ear, “Well Rollout, you’ll be happy to hear we’ve solved our little location problem in your absence. Done a deal with Denmark. We’re going to Greenland! Top of the ice. Should be safe there for a few years. The cloaking technology will have to work overtime but it’ll give the folks in Copenhagen time to get their act together and maybe in time we can move back to the Pole. Bit of a bugger with tradition and all but what else can we do? There’s going to be no ice to sit the whole shebang on in a few years. We worked it out with that nice boy Fred and his charming wife. She’s Australian did you know?” Rollout said that he knew. “Anyway, they were very understanding. Their kids were thrilled having Santa about the palace. Fred told me that Demark had done a similar deal with some Tuvaluans and some Bangladeshi’s. This global warming thing has got everybody from low lying areas on the move. It’s playing hell into our location database and the whole “naughty or nice” vibe is going through some necessary changes. Did you know Rollout that it seems there are people who are actively frustrating the whole amelioration business on purely political and ideological grounds?” Rollout said that he hadn’t known, and that the whole science thing had never been his strong suite. He left that sort of thing to the scientists. If they said it was so then it was so. What did he, an elf in “wheeled toys”, know from climate change. “Well,” said Santa, “they haven’t been very nice and I’ve a good mind to just give them more of the same, another hottest year, more catastrophic fires, more class five hurricanes and maybe a “six” or two for good measure! It’s the kids I’m sorry for. Their mud minded parents condemning them to a world without ice and snow. It’s a tragedy Rollout, a rolled gold tragedy. All those carols will have to be rewritten and the cards; they’re all going to have to look like those joke cards from Australia.” Santa seemed then to notice he was still wearing nothing but board shorts. “See what I mean!?” he said throwing his hands out.
During this discourse the Inuit had been inching closer hoping to catch the drift of what was being said. It was evident that the panic had been cancelled. What had been immediately urgent was now simply highly prioritised.
“Look, we’re neglecting our guests Rollout.” said Santa and pulled on a tee shirt that didn’t quite cover his ample girth and left his pink navel exposed above the board shorts. The hibiscus design on the T seemed to confuse the Inuit even more, tropical flowers not being common or popular north of 70 degrees north.
“Ho Ho Ho” Santa let off another blast of laughter that sent the Inuit scuttling. He gathered them together with much mirth and said that he was so tremendously grateful that they’d rescued Rollout and was there anything he could do for them.
The Inuit withdrew to a huddle in the midst of which matters of great moment were being decided. After much toing and froing the Inuit had decided that what they really wanted was more sea ice, so the Polar Bears, a central totemic animal, could continue to hunt and the seals would thrive. It seemed a small request to them and, given that anything seemed within the gift of the Great Santa, they believed he would have no trouble with a few thousand square kilometres of sea ice. It was just frozen seawater after all.
Suddenly the mirth that had twinkled Santa’s eyes faded. He became very serious. “If only it were possible, I’d do it in a moment. But I’m not as powerful as I used to be. The boffins tell me it has to do with “believing”. Apparently the power of this place is all based on “believing”. Not enough kids believe in me these days and that saps our energy. It makes our workload lighter, not so many gifts to make what with the non believers harassing their parents through the malls spending money they can’t afford on gifts that’ll be discarded by new year. It’s a shame really. The gift of Christmas was never about the toys, it was supposed to be about the giving.”
“You know, I remember this one little boy, it must have been some time back, a long time ago anyway. He lived in what was essentially an orphanage, not a lot of love there. Anyway this one Christmas he’d been particularly nice all year, and believe me in that place that wasn’t easy. All he wanted was a wooden truck. Well he’d been so good and the truck would have been easy but I had a better idea. The maintenance man at the place where the boy lived was a lonely widower whose own son had long since moved away. I won’t bore you with the details but we managed to get the old man to make the boy the truck. We had that kind of power then. Anyway, they became firm and lifelong friends and their friendship helped them both endure the difficulties of their shared situation. Now I was particularly proud of that Christmas gift and we didn’t have to make a thing.”
“That boy’s now in his sixties. I saw him last Christmas Eve, he was snoring on the couch as I transported in. He’d wrapped that truck in gay paper and the tag said, “To the Gas Tacker, with all my love, Poppy” He still had the truck after all those years! You see that truck was love itself and I bet that that boy’s grandson loves it more than any gleaming plastic and chrome brand toy. I know because he’d been really nice that year too, and we knew that he really wanted Poppy’s truck. We really piled it on for him that year.” Santa seemed to lose himself in the reverie. The Inuit gathered around Santa, each one gently laying their thickly gloved hands on a shoulder, an arm. Rollout was particularly distressed. He’d never seen Santa without a smile. The rest of it was all news to him.
Santa, I never knew….” Rollout said uncertainly.
“Oh yes. That’s the truth of it. We used once to be able to do all manner of wonderful things but these days it’s more difficult. Not enough believing,” Santa suddenly became aware of the Inuit once more, “or maybe it’s the kind of believing. And that’s where your sea ice comes in. You see for a long time a lot of people believed that oil and coal were cheap and risk free. Now we know that to be false but not enough people believe that there was a problem in the first place, and even those that agree there’s a problem often can’t agree on what the problem is and how to attack it so you see, not much has happened. Not enough people believing a solution is possible and believing they can do something to help. We’re bamboozled by believing, but we’ve lost empathy and love.” Santa shook his head. “We can make all this stuff.” Santa dismissed the entire production hall with a wave of his arm. “Stuff is easy. People believe in stuff alright! It’s love and empathy that take a little more. I’m afraid that I can’t give you any more sea ice. Not enough people believe in sea ice anymore. You see my problem.” Santa opened his empty hands to the Inuit.
As if on cue the doors to the office opened and in marched a formation of tray carrying elves. “Ah, refreshments!” cried Santa, his former gloom instantly replaced with a beaming smile as he handed round the eggnog and hot chocolate. “Mince Tart anyone?” Santa was full of bonhomie. “You see there is an upside to all this but I just can’t get a handle on it at the moment.” Santa paused and looked momentarily perplexed. “Still it’s Christmas. Can’t be gloomy at Christmas!” he turned to the Inuit again. “Sorry, no sea ice, but is there anything else you may want?”
The Inuit conferred briefly again. “No, there is nothing we need from you. We’re just happy to have found Rollout and come to this place and seen all these wondrous things. It’s sad about the ice but we’ll manage. We always have.” The Inuit all gave Santa and Rollout their best happiest smiles, their big white teeth dazzling in the middle of their ice burnished brown faces.
“Well let me at least see you safely and swiftly home. Rollout, get Comet hitched up. He’ll get them home right enough!”
As the elves gathering on the steps of the production hall parted to let the Inuit through, the Inuit saw the most improbable craft they had ever seen. Not unlike a great canoe with skids where the bottom seal skins should be. Their gear, sleds, all the dogs, canoes, everything, all stowed and roped down in the back while up front a very toey reindeer, just one, was tearing at the ice with his hooves. Piling in under the furs provided, the Inuit once more graced Santa and the assembled elves with another terrific symphony of smiles as everyone promised they’d meet again.
In a trice Comet, the sled and the happy Inuit were gone.
Santa, putting his arm around Rollout’s shoulder said “What do you think little Inuit boys and girls might like for Christmas?”
“I’m not sure Santa. Do the Inuit even have Christmas?” Rollout was still uncertain as to where this whole episode was leading.
Santa laid a finger up the side of his nose and winked at Rollout. “Well I think we can safely say that when our new friends get home they’ll tell their families and those families will believe the stories and in the people in them. Oh yes, Rollout. I think we’re going to need to know about those children; who they are, where they are, whether they’ve been naughty or nice and what they want. I can feel the believing beginning.”
And with that Santa rubbed his hands with glee. “Lots to do Rollout, lots to do! Christmas comes but once a year!”
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
Earth’s Polar Ice Sheets Vulnerable to Even Moderate Global Warming; New Orleans, Much of Southern Florida, Expected to Be Permanently Submerged
ScienceDaily (Dec. 17, 2009) — A new analysis of the geological record of the Earth’s sea level, carried out by scientists at Princeton and Harvard universities and published in the Dec. 16 issue of Nature, employs a novel statistical approach that reveals the planet’s polar ice sheets are vulnerable to large-scale melting even under moderate global warming scenarios. Such melting would lead to a large and relatively rapid rise in global sea level.
According to the analysis, an additional 2 degrees of global warming could commit the planet to 6 to 9 meters (20 to 30 feet) of long-term sea level rise. This rise would inundate low-lying coastal areas where hundreds of millions of people now reside. It would permanently submerge New Orleans and other parts of southern Louisiana, much of southern Florida and other parts of the U.S. East Coast, much of Bangladesh, and most of the Netherlands, unless unprecedented and expensive coastal protection were undertaken. And while the researchers’ findings indicate that such a rise would likely take centuries to complete, if emissions of greenhouse gases are not abated, the planet could be committed during this century to a level of warming sufficient to trigger this outcome.
The study was written by Robert Kopp, who conducted the work as a postdoctoral researcher in Princeton’s Department of Geosciences and Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs; Frederik Simons, an assistant professor of geosciences at Princeton; Jerry Mitrovica, a professor of geophysics at Harvard; Adam Maloof, an assistant professor of geosciences at Princeton; and Michael Oppenheimer, a professor of geosciences and international affairs in Princeton’s Woodrow Wilson School.
As part of the study, the researchers compiled an extensive database of geological sea level indicators for a period known as the last interglacial stage about 125,000 years ago. Polar temperatures during this stage were likely 3 to 5 degrees Celsius (5 to 9 degrees Fahrenheit) warmer than today, as is expected to occur in the future if temperatures reach about 2 to 3 degrees Celsius (about 4 to 6 degrees Fahrenheit) above pre-industrial levels.
“The last interglacial stage provides a historical analog for futures with a fairly moderate amount of warming; the high sea levels during the stage suggest that significant chunks of major ice sheets could disappear over a period of centuries in such futures,” Kopp said. “Yet if the global economy continues to depend heavily on fossil fuels, we’re on track to have significantly more warming by the end of century than occurred during the last interglacial. I find this somewhat worrisome.”
Oppenheimer added, “Despite the uncertainties inherent in such a study, these findings should send a strong message to the governments negotiating in Copenhagen that the time to avoid disastrous outcomes may run out sooner than expected.”
Previous geological studies of sea level benchmarks such as coral reefs and beaches had shown that, at many localities, local sea levels during the last interglacial stage were higher than today. But local sea levels differ from those in this earlier stage; one major contributing factor is that the changing masses of the ice sheets alter the planet’s gravitational field and deform the solid Earth. As a consequence, inferring global sea level from local geological sea level markers requires a geographically broad data set, a model of the physics of sea level, and a means to integrate the two. The study’s authors provide all three, integrating the data and the physics with a statistical approach that allows them to assess the probability distribution of past global sea level and its rate of change.
The researchers determined through their analysis that there is a 95 percent probability that, during the last interglacial stage, global sea level peaked more than 6.6 meters (22 feet) above its present level. They further found that it is unlikely (with a 33 percent probability) that global sea level during this period exceeded 9.4 meters (31 feet).
Sea levels during the last interglacial stage are of interest to scientists and important to policymakers for several reasons. Most notably, the last interglacial stage is relatively recent by geological standards, making it feasible for climate scientists to develop a credible sea level record for the period, and is the most recent time period when average global temperatures and polar temperatures were somewhat higher than today. Because it was slightly warmer, the period can help scientists understand the stability of polar ice sheets and the future rate of sea level rise under low to moderate global warming scenarios.
The findings indicate that sea level during the last interglacial stage rose for centuries at least two to three times faster than the recent rate, and that both the Greenland and West Antarctic ice sheet likely shrank significantly and made important contributions to sea level rise. However, the relative timing of temperature change and sea level change during the last interglacial stage is fairly uncertain, so it is not possible to infer from the analysis how long an exposure to peak temperatures during this stage was needed to commit the planet to peak sea levels.
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Centuries. In the meantime, what about our bush, farms, and river systems? Water management. Land management. Sustainable farming. Not only that, these are things our government has real power to control. We are talking years or decades to irreversible destruction there. They may not be worth a lot of UN points though.
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You’ll get no argument from me Vox. I reckon the time for easy meaningful remedial action probably passed without many of us actually noticing it. Now with even less time to get our carbon in a clump any action on any aspect of intervention and amelioration is going to be harder, more uncertain of outcome and probably cost an arm and a leg, or millions of displaced arms and legs more accurately.
Its enough to drive ya ta drink!
Tanq and tonic. V?
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Now you’re talking.
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The last para sums it up. “it’s fairly uncertain”!
I’d say absolutely uncertain. And of course the whole uncertainty leaves it open for people to be panicked and manipulated.
You see people will (literally) take the higher ground.
So we could have a situation precipitated by uncertainty, where citizens of the world simply riot, because there is too much gloom dispersed about the possible maximums.
I know that the intention is to make people aware, but in my experience the ignorant (and I mean that kindly) can be stampeded. There is a real danger here, that much as they need to be galvanised, they also need to be cajoled, helped educated and reassured.
They may sink the ship if they are told it is sinking, IMO.
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I take your point Jules and sadly I think the time for any effective education program was five to ten years ago. (What chance that was ever going to happen?) I believe we cannot now avoid some of the worst local and regional disasters that this little climate pot boiler will deliver. For the top economies the price of sea level rise will be some very serious geo-engineering projects which will test our engineering skills and technical innovation. But we can afford it and more than likely it will be done. Its the poorer economies I worry about. With just a metre to two metres there are a great many cities located on coasts in poorer countries that will not be able to organise an effective response and may just be abandoned
If the northern monsoon fails for just one year, or possibly worse, if the monsoon related cyclones and typhoons are in fact about 25% more powerful due to higher atmospheric moisture holding capacity, the numbers of humans experiencing dislocation, food stress, not to mention the spread of disease, the breakdown of civil society.., well the numbers will be mind numbing and I’m sure that this will happen at some scale at some time in the none too distant future. Lets hope that its small scale and not that long in duration. But whatever happens here, this years fifty or so asylum seeking boats are going to turn into an armada.
Warfare is a permanent state of affairs in parts of sub-Saharan and equatorial Africa and as the grip tightens can only get worse. Will they too take their chances across the Indian Ocean?
Good governance in Sth America is a “come as you are” thing for most regimes. What will happen there as things get worse? Will we see a wholesale denudation of the Amazon Basin as the millions of poor seek ground to work for a few miserable veges.
I dunno, I’m rambling but I’m sure you’re getting the tone of this.
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http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/12/13/2770156.htm?section=justin
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Hi Warrigal
This is an entertaining way to promote awareness of AGW.
I often lament the silly arguments fought out in the media by both the ayes and the nays. It only serves to entrench the alienation in my view .
It is a long time since I was in Fortnum and Mason,; I seem to remember Adam Faith and Terence Stamp took their afternoon tea there. So I enjoyed that nostalgic reference, together with the ‘feelgood’ name, perhaps engendered by your recent trip, where perchance you came upon Aboriginals who have adopted this practice. Kellogs, Elvis and Prince Charles come to mind.
I wrote in Unleashed that they need some decent ambassadors to get the AGW message across. Perhaps Rolf Harris, Dame Edna, Dr Karl and David Attenborough would be more inspiring than the baleful duo of Wudd and Rong!
I enjoyed reading your story and will have second thoughts about a Christmas Pressie for my grandson.
Oh, I know what to get, a book made from re-cycled paper.
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Thanks Jules, You’re too kind.
The Fortnum and Mason ref. was meant just for you and I’m dead chuffed you picked it. F&M are currently the only source I have been able to find for a particular blend of Darjeeling tea that I particularly like, so I’ll have nothing said against them. I order via the net, it arrives soon after, I drink the tea. A near perfect relationship.
I have to admit to a little confusion with regard to Rollout’s name and the whole Kellogs, Elvis, Prince Charles and blackfellas thing. Perhaps if I stood up it wouldn’t go over my head.
As for Wudd and Rong; (priceless initial swap that one!), I couldn’t agree more. The way Labor handled the whole notion of Malcolm’s support for the ETS and the shabby politics played by Wong show her to be just like her leader; full of her own self importance and a schoolmarmish proclivity to scold and berate when she should be soothing and convincing. Another squandered opportunity for a working bipartisan concensus and it’s all down to Wudd and Rong. Quite frankly I think, had she the capacity for self criticism, any analysis of her role in the matter would shame her into resignation, but in Wong, like most politicians, self critique is an untested and uncertain muscle best left to wither.
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Would I be skating on thin ice to say that I think “The Left” did much the same thing over the Aboriginal issue? Scoring points by taunting and vilifying Howard wasn’t the way forward, it only pushed him into a corner.
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Too true. all politicians are tarred with the same brush, but then Howard wasn’t listening no matter who was doing the talking. The moment one begins to see these seemingly intractable problems in terms of what might fit a leftist or rightist agenda, you can kiss goodbye to any meaningful change for the better.
It becomes a power play, all about trying to maintain aggregated power within the grip of one set of people or a political party.
Party politics is by definition anti democratic given that any political party’s policy platform is going to lag behind the legitimate desires and understanding of the constituents as to the nature of the problem and what to do about it. With politics we are doomed to be forever living just a little bit in the past and that past is always annoying second rate.
Hey but that’s just my opinion and as the old saw goes, “Opinions are like arseholes. Everyone’s got one.”
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Wow! What a story! Nice one Warrigal… I especially loved the story about the truck… beautiful!
But you know, you left us wondering what was happening with the ‘Ghost Dog’… He’d just met a human companion as I remember… then what happened?
Oh, and BTW, my sincere apologies for not accepting your correction on the religion of the Medes and Persians at the time of Astyages/Cyrus. You were right, however, and I was wrong: it WAS Zoroastrianism!
Been learning a bit more about it lately… Fascinating stuff… the source or fountainhead of virtually all the worlds religions with the possible exception of the pre-contact American ones.
Happy Dionysia, Warrigal… and the rest of the piglets too!
😉
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I don’t remember the Zoroastrianism issue, but then if I was certain I was right at the time it wouldn’t have occurred to me to gainsay one of our resident experts in an open forum. There’s got to be some decorum More likely it was just blind luck on my part.
Thanks for your kind words. The truck story is drawn from reality; with a few small changes of course. I was in tears typing it. When I re-read the piece it occurred to me that it wasn’t what I had written that led to my lachrymosity, it was the remembering of the reality in which my little tale was based. The truth and all it’s semiotic baggage is always more moving than any fiction.
As for Mirriyuula; there’s more coming but it seems that every time I get my poo in a pile narrative arc wise, I come up with another arc and have to completely rework the chassis of the thing. There are currently no less than six next installments and a few of those go on a bit longer than that. Every one of them is a completely different story with a completely different intent and outcome. Its been great fun for me and a powerful force for focus in my life, something it has almost always entirely lacked. Perhaps after Christmas and New Year.
Merry Christmas to you and your family too.
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Goddammit man, I like the way you write; now why can’t you just take a compliment without getting all forensic about it?
Or are you just fishing for more?
😉
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Oops… this should have gone under your next comment underneath this…
😉
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Of course I’m fishing for more, foolish boy!
But I’m also serious. I was looking at Chris Masters’ piece about the decline of probative journalism and the rise of opinion and then reflecting on the Rube/Dog/Vox thing over on Rube’s board and thinking that I’m seriously thinking of thinking about actually writing something seriously, maybe, and while I enjoy the compliments, thank you all, there remains a reticence on my part to actually take off. I enjoy the rather casual approach I currently have. Its more a recreation than any focused program of work. I guess there’s no risk. I post the yarns here. Piglets read them, have a bit of a yak, move on, next please.
Its all very comfortable for me.
But if you were serious and that was your considered response, I’d feel obliged to look more seriously at writing, if only to feel that I had sufficiently explored the potential there. As one gets older there aren’t all that many opportunities for re-inventing oneself, and I have been giving it a lot of thought.
But then I always was a procrastinator.
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Waz, some kind Unleashed readers responded very positively to my early comments well over a year ago and encouraged me to write more and put up stuff at Unleashed under my own steam.
I was lucky because I started out with a good moderator who actually edited the work and gave advice. Ah the good old days.
And now I’ve degenerated to quips and smart-arsed comments under the pressure of time for paid work. And I’ve missed the Climate Change Debate essay deadline simply because – as Chris Masters says – no time for proper research. I did some, but research is not something you can say stop to when it ain’t finished.
But by way of compensation, I have learnt a lot about curating the Pig’s Arms – itself with loads of unfinished thoughts and stillborn ideas – but lots of fun and nourishment from our patrons and contributors too.
Speaking for myself, I think that your depth of knowledge, creativity and beautiful style really demand proper application. I second T2’s suggestion that you wind it up and do it with gusto. Take yourself out of the comfort zone and see what happens.
Kind regards,
Emm.
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No. I’ve thought again. The real problem with my writing is not that it isn’t all the very nice things you said, which it certainly isn’t but thank you anyway.
The real problem is that its not good enough for me to yet think that it might be good enough to take a shot at the title. So I’ll just keep tumblin’ along with the tumber’lin tumbleweeds.
Dinner’s up. Gotta go.
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I’m no expert, Mirriyuula, merely an enthusiastic student… sometimes, perhaps, a little too enthusiastic.
Atomou is the expert!
I knew intuitively that the truck story came from reality; as you say, no invented story can move one quite the same way as a real story like this one.
Glad to hear there are more Mirriyuula stories in the pipeline… I’m sure I’m not alone in looking forward to them.
I have some sympathy for the problem of possible storylines and how to make them accord with what one has already written, however; what to discard and what to keep; it is really something of a tightrope act…
But I’m sure that whatever you come up with will be profoundly meaningful, deeply philosophical and expressed in a beautifully descriptive style.
What more could one ask for?
😉
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I’ve had to come back here a few times just to make sure that I’ve read you correctly. That last para’s a bit full on isn’t? You been rollin’ up without lettin’ us know T?
You make it sound like the blurb on the back of “Remembrance of Things Past”. That’s the only piece of writing I’d describe that way, or maybe “A Man Without Qualities” by Robert Musil, oh and Finnegan’s Wake” of course.
Ya don’t want to be discounting the quality of your criticism by applying hyperbole indiscriminately. What then would you be able to say about the novels I’ve mentioned?
Or are ya jus’ takin’ the piss?
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Delicious, Waz!
Enormously grateful!
May love and empathy flood your life, mate!
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Sorry to leave it so late to say thanks for your enthusiasm; and have no fear, I think I’ve get a goodly share of the flood, probably more than I deserve.
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Ads are back and I’m off!
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Now they’re gone again. This really is too stupid for words.
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Could it be a case of Moral Gauche?
Was it not Keating who muttered something about ‘the arsehole of the world’, perhaps in the Southern Hemisphere much happens in reverse or upside down at least.
It has been grandkids galore this week-end. Love their souls!
I also need an apparition, or an aperitif., but not an aperitive.
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“Aperitif” That’s French for a set of dentures isn’t it?
(Boom boom! and thanks to Spike Milligan for that one.)
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Ah Spike… my hero! How can one not love a guy who can come up with poetry such as:
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!
Get it out with Optrex!”
🙂
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I worked out how to make the ads go away. P R O T E C T I O N M O N E Y.
They will no longer trouble you in our pub, Waz.
Merry Christmas from the Pig’s Arms.
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Sounds like extortion to me.
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Sorry to have come on so strong folks. I’m always a bit antsy after I’ve been bush. I’ve had a cup of tea and I’m better now.
Yes MJ, not only do I approve of your use of Santa Surfing Teahupoo as your wallpaper, I’m flattered. And thank you for your kind words on the story. Knocked that one out from go to whoa in a single sit. Very happy with that.
Gerard; the trick is “believing” you’ll get a Wii for Christmas. If “believing” in anything these days is difficult for you, can I suggest “The Web of Belief” by WV Quine and JS Ullian. Apparently Quine was a senior tutor to Theodore Kaczynski, more popularly know as the “Unabomber, when Kaczynski was studying philosophy and mathematics at Harvard, but I don’t think you can blame quine for Kaczynski. He appeared to believe in nothing but destruction and a very ornate but confused personal philosophy of denial.
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Waz;
It is hard to believe in presents but the hit for your single sit for your story is still gobsmacking. I need more than a cup of tea.
By the way, it’s s’ivleH yadhtriB as well. All good things for today!
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Droit moral. (The European concept.)
Instead, they reflect a view of the creator (eg author of a literary work, a painting or film) as deserving respect for creativity, with an inalienable right to:
be recognised as the author of a work
no false attribution of authorship (ie for no-one else to be identified as the author)
prevent others from modifying, distorting, or otherwise interfering with the integrity of that work.
That right is independent of the physical object: the artist for example retains moral rights even though she has sold the canvas. In France moral rights are perpetual – “existing for so long as the work survives in human memory and is an object of exploitation”.
Theorists argue that the droit moral is wholly independent of ‘economic rights’, ie the copyright creator’s right to control the reproduction, performance and distribution of the work. Those rights can all be traded.
Moral rights instead seek to protect the creator’s ‘honour’ and reputation. They consist of rights of attribution (ie identification as author of a work, irrespective of who buys it), integrity (a right to object to derogatory acts prejudicial to the creator’s honour and reputation, such as distortion, mutilation or unauthorised modification), disclosure and withdrawal (determining if and when material is made public).
This all from Google.
I suppose Waz has a point, but on the Internet anything goes and it is still a form of open slather.
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I think Warrigal has a real point about droit moral. It has always bothered me that Unleashed does not attribute its pictures.
Here at the PA I have made some effort but a very uneven one to attribute pictures. Limited to linking to the Wikimedia Commons attribution, and also making some effort to find the picture in Wikimedia to link to. Because often when you find a good picture on a site, the same one is available from Wikimedia.
I hadn’t thought about it before Mike, but you know, you really should attribute Warrigal’s pictures individually. We all recognise his work, but others coming here wouldn’t.
Of course, who would you attribute them to if he doesn’t want to attach his name. Heaps of artists have a pseudonym (banksy being the case that springs to mind of an anonymous artist) and that would work just as well.
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I know you sort of have done Mike. We all know what you mean. Why not put your pseud in the photo properties Warrigal? Then when people lift them, they’ll later be able to find out easily who made them.
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Then again Warrigal, perhaps droit moral has a bit of an iffy relationship with composite pictures. I dunno. We briefly looked at it in the context of copyright law when I did a web design course, but it was more or less just to let us know it was there.
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We’re not supposed to talk openly about the pictures. (Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink). Could be construed as “cocking a snoot”, get me?
Just imagine the trouble MJ and The Dog might be in if all those copyright owners came home to roost all at once.
Perhaps they, MJ and The Dog, might invoke certain provision of the Berne Convention and suggest that they were adapted for legitimate educational purposes, and further; that no consideration was exchanged so no contract could be said to exist and so the adaptation of pre-existing copyrights with out, strictly speaking, permission would have to become moot. And besides if they came after MJ and The Dog, imagine the poo being packed at places like YouTube or MySpace.
Funny old world, copyright.
The Above (C) 2009 Warrigal Miiriyuula
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SANTA;
That is a lovely Santa story. When is my Wii coming? It’ll be a change from knitted grey socks hanging from the chimney so many years ago?
Santa, I have been good this year, please make it rain a little, our Argyles are carking it. While you are at it, can you make the wombats well again, their mange is killing them by the hundreds.
Ho,ho,ho. Oh, for the tolerance, forgiveness and benevolence of dear Santa.
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Where is the ad?
I am in the dark too. I did not nor now see any advertising.
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Well that seemed to take care of that. No sooner had I posted my displeasure than the offending adverts disappeared. Perhaps I was wrong and WordPress are actually a very sensitive and customer responsive bunch.
Or maybe there’s another answer.
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I seem to recall that WordPress reserved the right to do that occasionally.
Difficult to argue against, since apart from the small amount of dosh I sent them to cover the ability to upload movies and sound, the rest of our usage is free.
But whatever they did was so fleeting, none except you, Waz saw it !
I’m not in favour of ads either, but I’m doing my best for increasing the sum of tolerance in the world.
Very good article, I might add. And the surfing Santa is my wallpaper of the moment. If that’s OK.
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I would have thought that acquiring a perpetual non exclusive license to exploit the material provided by contributors would have been enough consideration for anyone. But no-one ever went broke overestimating the greed and hubris of the IT and Web industries
If WordPress are so tight for cash maybe they should move to phase two and start that exploitation. It’s probably that they haven’t quite worked out how to keep the lion’s share of any revenue stream created whilst those that actually created the material languish with their hands out. The European concept of “droit moral” hasn’t quite penetrated the American consciousness at this point, but don’t get me started on that!
The four ads that appeared briefly were tagged “Ads by Google”. There were four of them covering Christmas cruises with some cruise line, Christmas flowers, a Christmas Message from Billy Graham and the fourth was so fatuous and inappropriate that I haven’t even bothered to remember it.
The argument, “look what we get for free” can also apply to WordPress. The problem is that having acquired all these rights, I suspect we’ll be long dead when the WordPress Annual comes out with reprints of all the best contributions over the years.
I know nothing is for free but we don’t have to like it.
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What’s with this unasked for and unappreciated advertising that’s popped up under my story. It wasn’t there earlier. The promoters of these products can take it from me that their very appearance here is reason enough for me to ensure that not one cent of my hard earned goes to those products. Good god!! Billy Graham for Chris’sake. Could that ad be more poorly placed. I’m a damn atheist and think Billy a well meaning but ultimately fond and foolish old man. The others can consume the encrusted portion. I’m dark EmmJay. Really dark!!!
Why couldn’t they put up adverts for Greenpeace or Amnesty or something I might relate to. This is nothing more than the seconding of our creative output to the service of mammon and the current passion for consumerism.
Dark doesn’t quite capture the mood. But it’ll do for now. WordPress can stick their collective heads up a dead bears bum!
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