Dommage!

Well, as per their loss to South Africa earlier this week, England are now unable to advance to the semifinals. The English coach is resigning, and the new one desperately needs to have some idea of how to stop bleeding wickets. Rage.

Mais, actuellement, le vrai but de cette poste est pour discuter les élections français. Je sais que je n'aurait pas écrivé ici depuis longtemps, puis je pensais que je peux revenir à écrire ici avec une partie en français, sur le monde français. Alors, les élections serons à dimanche prochaine, et aujord'hui, il y avait les rassemblements finales des candidats, et donc le jour final de la campagnes. Ségolène Royal est actuellement de derrière de Nicolas Sarkozy, mais elle lui gagne des points suivre des rapports aux dommages concernant l'affaire Clearstream et l'issus de race humaine. Maintenant, je pense sérieusement et je souhaite sincèrement que Ségolène Royal gagnera la place deuxieme dans l'étage finale de l'élection. François Bayrou n'a pas vrai appui de tout le monde; seulement l'appui des partisans de Ségolène qui perdaient confidance dans sa campagne à férvrier et janvier. Et les sondages d'opinion l'indique: Mme. Royal est à 25%, quatre points de derrière de M. Sarkozy qui est à 29%, et M. Bayrou continue perdre des points et il est maintenant à 15%. Entre dimanche et la deuxieme élection, Royal peut capitaliser sur cette mécontentement avec M. Sarkozy et se presenter comme la candidate reformiste et pragmatique, la rôle dans qui elle a commencé cette campagne et la rôle qui les gens de la France désespérément ont besoin d'elle devient.

Damned Silly Indians

A few minor changes to my cricket predictions:

*India's inexplicable loss to Sri Lanka has put them out of the running (Who'd've guessed a month ago that India and Pakistan would both be out before the Super 8?), so to compensate, I'm moving Sri Lanka up to India's position and Bangladesh into Sri Lanka's old spot, giving a final Super 8 result of:

1. Australia
2. England
3. New Zealand
4. Sri Lanka
5. Ireland
6. Windies
7. Bangladesh
8. South Africa

Sri Lanka'll probably lose to Australia a little faster than India would.

*I erred when I said England would beat New Zealand by "a few wickets": because England will bat first if they're the second team, they can't win by wickets as such. Damned silly ODI rules. Also, I think I underestimated the Kiwi side. I see England winning by less than 10 runs.

And Australia's win over Bangladesh to-day was hilarious: Australia kept all ten wickets in hand and managed to best the Bangladeshi score in 13 overs. I know match was reduced to 22 overs a side, but it's still disgraceful for Bangladesh, especially when you consider Australia took six of their wickets in 22 overs. So it goes for the ersatz Indians.

My duty.

Librarians are hiding something.
Les Bibliothécaires cachent quelque chose.
Mae llyfrgellydd yn celu rhywbeth.

got that.

Sticky Wickets

First off, I need to point out that it's raining. So much so that I'm back early from to-day's spring training game, which wrapped up at the top of the sixth inning with a 1-0 score in favour of the Padres. This encourages me to write, and to write on the bat-and-ball game I can still entertain myself with: Cricket. If I haven't told you already, I love cricket. It's got all the quirks and tradition of baseball while remaining genial, dignified, and superbly British. It hasn't become an industry like baseball, either; Cricket games are well-attended and cricketeers are sometimes celebrities, but even at the professional level, one gets the sense people are playing for fun. See the Ashes. Seriously. If there were a decent cricket team in this city outside of that icky papist hive of shallow pretension and privilege, I'd join it.

So. The Cricket World Cup is going on right now, and the group stage is about finished up. Excepting the evident murder of the Pakistani coach, It's been a fine show. Ireland are advancing to the group stage for the first time ever after a St. Patrick's Day win over Pakistan and a tie with Zimbabwe, only the third tie in the history of the World Cup. England lost a heartbreaking match to the up-and-coming New Zealand side, who have managed to beat everyone in their division.

And that's enough of that. Without any more speechifying, I'll give you my predictions for the rest of the tournament. Check back in April and see how wrong I am:

Super 8, in order of position:
1. Australia
2. England
3. New Zealand
4. India
5. Ireland
6. Windies
7. Sri Lanka
8. South Africa

To explain, every side in the Super 8 play each other once and the top four go through to a knockout stage:

1 & 4. Australia beat India by a few runs in a nail-biter that goes to 50 overs in both inningses. Sheer Aussie batsmanship overcomes Indian coordination.

2 & 3. England beat New Zealand by a few wickets.

Final: England beat Australia by a tiny margin, securing the first ever World Cup win for England. English running overcomes the weak Aussie defense despite fine bowling and edges out a fine Australian innings.

I really think so.

That Kind of Night

An accounting of the spirit of this evening, and somewhere in here a review of The 300.

The season has changed. The spirit of Galagon has compelled us to change. The Empyrean Throne is done with pensiveness and penance. He has thoroughly imbued us with the eternal wisdom and spirit of the Heavens, and now He compels us to action on Earth. Derryute presses lightly at our backs with a sweet wind that speaks all too early of the chaos of the monsoon. She tells us we are to go forward. The feast of magnanimous opulence in celebration of the inception of the living-time took place to-night.

Technically, it was my Dad's birthday. Generally, this is a very humble occasion that might involve going for a nice little journey somwheres or sitting down for a spring training game (We're doing that to-morrow.) But to-day, ahhh to-day... To-day we were simply imperial; bountiful and giddy beyond reason and custom. My Dad enjoyed himself more than he usually does and the rest of us didn't mind joining him. While we were waiting in the listless heavy-sweet air outside the Harkins at Arrowhead for the car to come pick my brother, my dad, and me up and take us back home for carrot cake and an easy night's sleep, we were come upon by a tandem of common female street urchins.

They were waiting on the other side of the road while we were discussing the movie, and suddenly ran across the street excitedly. They're my age, with big, stupid smiles, clumsy gaits and shiny cellphones radiating an electric blue light on their smooth, young faces. I notice them for an instant, fire off a few neurons to the effect of "stupid whores'll probably get run over" and rejoin the conversation. But then they get really close to us. We stop talking and move out of their way. They join our circle. A little jolt goes through my spine. They've got the tiniest little mini-skirts. They look around at us. The one on the left is kinda hot.

"Hello.", the one on the right, who's darker and taller, starts us off.

"Hey.", we all respond.

Silence for about the space of half a minute. Stupid smiles, too. The one on the left really is hot.

"How's it goin?", giggles the orange girl.

We get to talking about the movie we've just seen, The 300. We're desperately trying to be polite to the impetuous little ladies while they talk about how hot all the rippling man-parts on all the Spartan warriors were. Hey... The one on the left keeps looking at me. Suddenly she says I'm "beautiful."

Stupid little girl. Don't you know if our positions were reversed, you'd probably be calling the police?

I manage a nerdy "thank-you" that's about five steps below simply demure and dart my eyes around, trying to avoid looking disgusted or staring at her. I realize immediately I've made a mistake. I could've at least been witty. Something like "I know" or "So are you"... but I don't really care. These people are pests I'm trying to get rid of. And yet, the one on the left is kinda hot.

I tell you all of this mostly because it's just the sort of thing to happen in the heady early springtime, and because it colours my memory of the rest of the night. The conversation basically went on like that, swaying from their interest in Spartan abs to their interest in my "tummy" to the kids they didn't like at school to how ugly that one girl was, until suddenly the car arrived, and we had time for just one more episode of insanity. My dad announced it to us all with some unrestrained glee and had to apologise to the girls. Again, the one on the left burst out and decided I needed a hug.

"You must spank her well..."

Then her friend decided likewise, and amidst some conversation, everyone decided I needed two hugs.

"...after you are done with her, you may deal with her as you like... and then... spank me."

Then they decided, in order to make it really count, they had to do it each individually.

"Yes, Yes, you must give us all a good spanking.
And after the spanking, the oral sex!"

Dear God.
I ran to the car as it pulled up and leapt in. To my discredit, I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to them amidst all the talking and hugging. And the hugs, ah... they were that kind of rubby-rubby hug that said awful things about the girls ability to restrain themselves. Shame I didn't get to know them better.

After we all stopped laughing, we got back to talking about the movie, which was the intended entertainment for the evening and the serious purpose of this post. It's a fine action movie, done up in a very fantastical Lord of the Rings style that makes liberal but effective use of powerful special effects during the fight scenes and gives the movie an epic, supernatural scale. (Not at all like the old 300, which was done up as a slightly embellished, adventurous history lesson.) It's not art like the old version either, but if you come to the theatre hoping to be entertained rather than enlightened, it'll be consummately delightful.

There is one thing, though, I had to bring myself to overlook, that wasn't in the original: the persistent, pounding, annoyingly Neoconservative subtext. Every time anyone opens their mouth for anything other than roaring at the Persian hordes, asserting manly dominance, or uttering a line from history, they're talking about how "Freedom isn't free" (Really! That's in the movie! Verbatim!) and how the "liberty" of the Greeks must be protected and spread by the sword. The narrator of the story goes on in a superfluous speech at the end of the movie about how Persian (that is to say Iranian ;) "barbarism", "mysticism", and "superstition" will be destroyed and supplanted by an age of "reason" and "justice" like "we have never seen." So, not only are the Spartans outlandishly manly, strong, courageous, clever, and otherwise bad ass, they're down with the President, and evidently, they've got the same speech writers, too.
Come on, kids! War is sexy! War is fun! Empire is noble! Zeus is on our side!

Grrrrrr....

But seriously, as long as you cut out the entire message and the significant creative liberties taken with history, it's a delightful picture. Go see it.

The kickoff for the evening was dinner at this Texas Roadhouse place up in Arrowhead (again, uncharacteristically decadent and Republican of us), a 9-ounce sirloin steak, a cup of chili, and a glass of smooth, cold, refreshing Coca Cola. A brilliant start to Spring. A happy birthday. Galagon's hand on our shoulders and Derryute's wind at our backs. That kind of night.

Holy Couple make the rain, Chronik and Corvus preserve our sacred knowledge, Derryute and Venusti, grant us the grace and the spirit to live, Scelere make your trickeries benign.

I'll see you all around. Goodnight.

You See?

Not only did the House of Lords consummately reject the government's proposals last week, but it appears as though Roy Hattersley has started reading my blog. A rant of some kind should follow tonight, and, seeing as how it's Spring break and Pirates of Penzance is over and all, I should start posting here at least once a day.

Because, With All Their Faults, They Love Their House of Peers

There will never be an all-elected House of Lords.
As far as I'm concerned, there will never be a mostly-elected House of Lords either.
Neither should there be.

Don't get me wrong. I like Jack Straw. I like his choice of name. I even happen to like democracy. But I can't see any good reason whatsoever for having two elected houses in a Westminster system, and I can't see the British political establishment allowing it to happen.

First, the practical. The Lords will undoubtedly turn down the proposals from the Commons when they vote later to-day, and they will be more than adamant about it if asked again. By the time a second vote occurs, the Labour leadership coronation will be grabbing all the headlines, followed promptly by a new round of cliquish Blairite infighting and/or David Cameron saving the planet with a reanimated Marget Thatcher and his personal anti-racist hit squad of suave Etonian ninja-huskies. That'll just leave Tony Benn and company shouting from the opinion pages and backbenches for an invocation of the Parliament Act or some sort of half-cocked referendum campaign, which won't help anything or get Gordon Brown anywhere. Besides, the Bishops wouldn't hear of it.

Now, the moral. The Lords are deeply flawed, and they do need to find a new place in the modern constitution. They also serve a very important purpose, as the chamber that provides the "sober second thought" that can only come though a process of apolitical appointment. We saw this with the "Counterterrorism" legislation last summer. The answer rests in reforming the appointment system by actively involving the Leader of the Opposition and perhaps other party leaders in the negotiations that choose peers, and giving them veto power over a certain proportion of the appointments. This can ensure that only the more respected and sane elements from both sides take up seats, and it can significantly dampen patronage by intimately involving opposition politicians in the selection process. It's beyond me why it isn't already done this way.

For now, we are stuck with the slumgullion of old-timers, Machiavellian political appointees, venerable representatives of the parsonage, dignified gentlemen, and retired politicians that we've been used to, all because the "serious" House of Parliament is busy with this Blair-Brown nonsense.

Cor Mundum Cream in me, Deus

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
I'm making a blog. For the umpteenth time.
I promise, it'll be good.
Not like those other ones I started and stopped after three big, half-coherent interior monologues.
I'll only write when I've got something to say.
Up and coming should be pieces on some/any/all of the following...

-Realism, the animal nature of man, and its eventual demise beneath the insatiable desire to know and be well.

-Postmodernity and Postmodernism

-The incurably depraved state of the concept of "intellectual property."

-Just how dead wit is, and why I say that.

-The enduring wholsemness of the British Empire and the lies of the Global documentary.

-Theological arguments, especially dogmas pertaining to Mary and/or salvation. I'll admit it, I'm taking after Ivan Karamazov.

-Spalms and other things having to do with the Church of Galagon.

-Et, de temps en temps, quelque chose écrivé en français. An yr iath Cymraeg, efallai.

Au revoir, vraiment, au revoir...