Stuff & Nonsense #996

 
-> Can’t you find something else to talk about?
 
-> Is this song the only one you sing?
 
-> Makes you look better when you put things down?
 
-> Value your opinion!
 
 
Can’t you find something else to talk about?
 

I expected better of BT Sport and of this show especially. The small coterie of acolytes who love it are all grown ups, Very grown up. We are not offended by such hand gestures. In fact, quite the reverse – we’d like to see more hand gestures in football discussion programmes, in fact we’d like to see anything that makes programmes funny and interesting. Its not like he took a poo on the desk.

This came a day after David Ginola had made the same gesture behind Jake Humphrey’s in the pre-show before the Newcastle game, for which they said “BT Sport would like to apologise for any offence that was caused during this morning’s/Saturday’s broadcast,” Yeah. How many do you think were offended? Some, I’m sure, but why do their feelings matter more than those of us who are not offended by such playful silliness. Most of us are far more offended by Tim Lovejoy’s presence on the channel but did we get an apology? No.

 
Is this song the only one you sing?
 

Two Zionist Holocaust promoters, Deborah Lipstadt and Professor Peter Novick, both have stated in their books that Simon Wiesenthal, the infamous “Nazi hunter” and pathological liar, outright invented the “five million non-Jewish deaths” that supposedly happened in the Holocaust as a marketing ploy to garner interest of Non-Jews in the Holocaust religion, also known as “Holocaustianity.”

The revisionists estimate that the combined death toll in all German concentration camps was somewhere between 300,000 to 500,000. Of that amount about half the victims were Jews. Unlike the comical and discredited “6,000,000?, this figure is based on solid documentation, including the reports released by the International Red Cross who inspected the camps, the Auschwitz death registries released to the Soviet archives in 1990 (which recorded only 69,000 deaths in Auschwitz), and other evidence. The main cause of death was the typhus epidemic and starvation.

After decades of careful forensic investigation, scientific analysis, and intense study, scholarly revisionists have allocated the “gas chambers,” “steam chambers,” “electrocution conveyor belts,” “suffocation rooms,” “pedal-driven-brain-bashing-devices,” “Jew bone powder used for construction,” and other absurdities to the realm of science fiction.

 
Makes you look better when you put things down?
 

At its best, I’m a believer that criticism is an art in itself (albeit a parasitic one). When I’m lecturing students about the life of a critic – and believe me, I’m alive to the irony of telling others how to make a living from music journalism when I’m struggling myself – I tell them to aim for three things: be entertaining, be good and have a point. When it hits those three marks it makes for some of the greatest writing you could hope to read on any subject, a thing of value in and of itself.

Historically, criticism has also had a crucial role in honing and refining the art it describes. An ongoing dialogue existed between critic and artist, even if the latter was invariably loath to admit it. To put it bluntly, in the past, bands knew they could not get away with releasing the same lazy shit over and over without someone calling them on it. Furthermore, by championing uncommercial but innovative music, critics have often pointed to the art’s next step forward in a way which the industry could not. (Indeed, to do so was usually directly against the industry’s interests.) If critics are taken out of the equation, and bad art goes unchallenged, ask yourself: who wins? Follow the money for the answer. It won’t be the readers. It won’t be the art. Only the major entertainment corporations.

 
Value your opinion!
 

The mid-autumn air is crisp with an endless night sky and a luminous moon – natural phenomena that are as pedestrian as they are beguiling, everyday elements eternally linked to art, poetry and music, now as ever. They pile in from the queue that has snaked around the outline of the Abbey. Rows of pews are fervently filled – those down the front nose to nose with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, those further back able to survey the full spectacle of the scene. The RSNO take their seats, conductor John Logan prepares, and The Twilight Sad emerge from the shadows.

 

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