Short Straw Strategies

B.P. are abandoning their green energy investments to “drill baby drill.” ™ ® What a time to be alive! Let’s reverse previously strenuous and tedious environmental efforts. Why can’t we be greener? Pupils at secondary school ask me, “Is war coming?” I play it down. However, are we sure it is not?

The very same human, Lord Vader Trump, has gaslit, manipulated, and slapped coercion on his viewed-as-inferior opposite number Zelensky. In much the same way as Andrew Tate’s Romanian victims may see things, Trump lent into the Ukrainian leader with, “You have allowed yourself to be in a very bad position.” Simple vocabulary, as expected. Flipping the abused with blame for being a victim of the abuser is an odd view. Imagine if the world had done the same when the U.S. of A. and then President George Bush Jr. shot after Osama Bin Laden and Al Qaeda.

The emphasis then fell to sidekick J.D. “Sports’ Vance, who once hated Trump and viewed the Trump tactics as too far. Instead, Vance pushed for a “thank you.” Al Murray’s Pub Landlord character was more fair about his masculine drinking views.

flooding the zone with shit” – Steve Bannon, Guardian news

Trump and Vance essentially told the Ukraine to roll over, show its belly, and bend over for more action in its hinterland. It felt like a concede the loss and allow Russia to take over. Sure, let the bully take over and consolidate space and territory. Great idea! Good old American values. Saviour and leading light, Trump shouted repeatedly about Ukraine holding no cards to play. Of course, Ukraine’s European allies and greater global communities said otherwise. “Without us, you have nothing,” said an emboldened Trump, to which dozens of respected and elected leaders brandished two-fingers.

Peace and U.S. of A.’s staunchly Team America-view of global security have been hand in hand ever since U.S.A. entered global conflict as a victim of World War II, or even before. They responded to conflicts and cries of help. Even whilst allowing their own people to fire a selection of deadly metal devices at one another in the name of rights to bear arms. This from a nation supplying Academi [previously Blackwater] military suppliers. Blackwater Worldwide and Xe Services have had a troubled past blighted by controversy. They’re now Constellis Holdings and have had 28 years of U.S. paychecks that Trump and Co. are invested in by some shape of form. And pardoning.

Constellis may or may not be responsible for law enforcement training, logistics, close quarter training, and security services whilst being favoured over state contracts and entities. They may or may not be enjoy Trump saying, “If you get a ceasefire, you must accept it so that bullets stop flying and your people stop dying.” Especially as many billions of pounds was directed to U.S. companies and military supplies that have yet to reach Ukraine.

Trump wants to lead. He wants Zelensky and his country to be a subordinate and shouting over Zelensky to tell him, “You’re not in a position to dictate to us” is just plain old mean bullying. His and Vance’s pitch for a pathway to peace ignores Russia as an aggressor and turns Ukraine into a thorn in the back of resolution. Especially as he pins “…playing with the lives of millions of people” on the leader of those people.

Even if Ukraine was in a position to hold elections, would infrastructure and ceasefire allow such a thing? Or paint target cross-hairs on lines of battle-capable adults? The Ukraine’s place in a partnership and resistance has been made to feel like the Ukraine owes the world and U.S.A. This is codswallop.

“Fail we may, sail we must.” – Andrew Weatherall, English musician, DJ, songwriter, producer and remixer.

The U.S. of A. feels indebted to the Ukraine conflict. Oddly, repatriation has faded from other conflicts without a whisper of debate. Yet, here the Bin Laden-chasing, War on Terror bunch of cowboys and chief demand that “you must obey, or you will recieve nothing“. International Rescue, this is not. “If it weren’t for our weapons, this war would have ended in two weeks”, walks over the dead, the resistance, and a wider international support. It says that Europe and the Ukraine are irrelevant.

The sphincter-twitching Trump administration is in full-blown propaganda mode and answerable to investor overlords. The U.S. appears to be a puppet state with evil James Bond-baddy Elon Musk or Vladimir Putin pulling some of, if not all, the strings. These are dangerous times.

And now Putin won’t be pulled in. Even if Trump is calling him, begging him, laughing with him. Meanwhile, the P.M. son of a toolmaker and the U.K. investments in war machines at an alarming rate. All at the expense of social conditions, the environment, and hope. Still, at least they spared the tax-dodging elite. Here in the U.K. we have our own brand of gaslighting, victim-blaming, and coercion into gratitude. We’ll force our own subjects into terms beneficial for the state and potentially fatal to Britain.

Welcome to the era of stupidity. Let the stupidest win. Resources are dwindling to the greedy. If war should come, are we ready? Enjoy your views whilst you can.

Spiralling down.

The awesome of the mysterious light, radiating through a fine mist, drifting towards me was mesmerising. The patterns like straps on a parachute ascending upwards like a triangle missing its uppermost plain.

I tried to video it and take photographs. Even as Panda, my dog, nudged me to throw his ball, I pondered, wondered, and questioned what it could be. I knew from the object’s translucent state, it couldn’t be a drone. The misty form transformed passing rays of light outwardly. I queried all my logic. It couldn’t be a weather balloon. Not even a burst one.

I watched as it appeared to disappear and pass directly overhead. Then reappear, fade, and appear once more. I could see satellites passing overhead, far above this unidentified floating object. And aircraft flashing way up high. Its course stayed true, from Moston toward Clayton, Manchester. I pinged an image and video to my space expert friend Dan. He has raised his twin boys on a diet of the outer limits and knowledge.

An excited reply came back, “Maybe a rocket launch. SpaceX? I’ll ask Alex.” One of the twins would know or have a better idea. The light orb appeared to fan out like that of a ship’s rudder. Was this a projection? A hologram? No visible beams could be seen in the very clear sky. Not even a cloud. For Manchester, without a cloud is a spectacle itself!

Alex and Dan came back by message, see SpaceX launch in Florida, a few who’s previous. And that’s when looking at they sky became ruined again. Mites danced in the highest of visible atmosphere. The satellite pathways of Starlink and so on. Hundreds and thousands. Many of which become visible all too often. What would our ancestors make of it?

From hunter-gatherers of old to modern and better equipped people, eyes to their skies has been normalised and led to discovery and theories, or stories and moments of magic. I’ll confess this fuel dump by SpaceX was enchanting. Until I thought about the waste. The atmospheric dumping of gases and liquids. What would be the consequences? My adopted cousin Anthony commented, “Elon is pissing on us all.” He’s right. The days of Mulder and Scully are limited.

Ubuntu.

Dear all,

This is an open letter of my thoughts and feelings. I’m having a tough time. I feel weighted down at the shoulders and hips. Perhaps, I have cursed myself (and those around me). I feel I want to retreat from here and hide away. I’m certain of it. In fact, I started writing this piece of crap on March the 4th and over 8 days, I kept thinking about deleting it or revisiting it for completion. In the end simmering anger won.

I had a real negative day on March the 3rd. Pessimism was my bedfellow. Something I had done, was rightfully pointed out to me as being somewhat controversial and sensitive. By placing two A3 pieces of paper (dark blue over yellow), the intended Ukrainian colours appeared as a flag. They faced outside of the classroom, affixed to the windows. On their inside, facing into the room, were pieces of work about the U.N. Human Rights Act and censorship. Our current grade 9 and 10 language and literature unit is themed around freedom of speech and creativity. The school principal rightfully advised that China is neutral and at present we shouldn’t draw attention to this fact. Nor should we mention that western intelligence [oxymoron?] has apparently (and reportedly) shown that Russia was asked to postpone its invasion of the Ukraine until after the Winter Olympics. China denies this. The western media isn’t exactly reliable. Mixed messages in China don’t make the matter any clearer.

Yesterday evening, I was sat on a bench tossing a ball for Panda, reading Melissa Hogenboom‘s article titled What is the best age to learn to read? It seemed idyllic to understand that babies in the womb and young babies respond to reading before being able to comprehend anything tangible. The article even argues and supports reasons not to teach phonics so militantly. As Panda caught the ball once again, a little dog, XiǎoBāndiǎn (小斑点) played alongside him and soft rays of golden sunshine swept through leafy trees onto the part-scorched grasses below. I took a long deep breath. I truly felt fed up.

Democratic nations, freedoms of speech and a constant tug of war between this and a certain unitary one-party socialist republic have been the norm for quite some time. The COVID-19 pandemic has been exploited by many throughout these last grinding two and a bit years. The constant bitching and arguing about origins of the bloody virus reached fever pitch long ago. Now the bloody virus is white noise. This tinnitus is still there but now the first Donetsk People’s Republic and Luhansk People’s Republic form a backdrop to Russia’s invasion upon Ukrainian soil. Football, culture and global togetherness seem unworthy of our attention. The CONIFA World and European football cups mean little right now. Cornwall will not be playing against either of these two Ukrainian-breakaway lands anytime soon. There’s far too much separatism and breaking away around the world. The climate change battle goes almost unheard.

“Increasingly irreversible losses.” – Svitlana Krakovska, Ukrainian climate scientist, Climate Change News.

The other complexity of yesterday was that I removed the two posters from the window and placed them on the wall lower down. Now, do I explain this to my Ukrainian colleagues (or was it them that has the worry in the first place?) or do I just carry on as normal? Am I over-thinking? No offensive intention was ever intended. Do I also consult my British-Russian colleague? Either way, there is an awkwardness that could entirely be self-paranoia, but I feel guilty and cannot decide what to do, or not. However, I won’t hide words or actions. If China does align itself with the invasive force of Russia, I won’t sit back and carry on. The media here won’t show anti-war protests or online petitions. This is their country, their rules. I respect that. The horrors of war are slipping through though. It is hard to ignore the one Foshan football shop trying to sell their last batch of Adidas Russia football shirts printed with Putin and some disgusting abusive social media slips through. The internet is not a trusty place. It is fast swelling up as a place of propaganda and people playing pitiful games of power as village idiots.

Ubuntu [ùɓúntʼù] comes from the Nguni Bantu peoples and languages. It roughly translates as “I am because you are”. It is a word that implies community is central to self. Sharing connects. The word can be found across South Africa in Zulu and Zhosa – and in the same form in Rwanda’s Kirundi and Kinyarwanda languages. At least two dozen other forms of the word can be found across Bantu countries. In Kenya, omundu, is the equivalent word. Our finite world is desperate for such beauty and community. We need more celebration, such as rediscovering Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton‘s Endurance and sharing those magical images to future explorers and scientists.

Civic pride can empower?

In my mind positivity’s optimist is in its own war with the pessimist and realist. I had a moment yesterday where I imagined refugees scratching walls at an abandoned Kwik Save supermarket in Abergele, revealing a lone tin of No Frills baked beans. Day dreams and wondering mindsets have become commonplace this last week or so. Days and hours blur as one. I used to be organised and focused. Now, I struggle to listen to Just a Minute for only 60 seconds.

“This year will be harder than last year. On the other hand it will be easier than next year” – Enver Hoxha’s message to Albania, 1967.

We live in a world where former UK Deputy Prime Minister and Liberal Democrat-cum-Conservative party leader heads Facebook/Meta (can’t see the join?) and their global affairs. yes, he helped Gurkhas get the right to settle… but the coalition is a direct cause of Boris Johnson’s dark rise to the country’s premier position. Many attribute Nick Clegg to the slump of the Liberal Democrats party. It’s now hard to see this party as anything but a bit-part-player. They have allowed the elite of societies to distract and disrupt social groups. The left wing has been too busy infighting no notice the central-right leaping away. Celebrating millionaires and billionaires is all fair enough, but keep in mind the rich got richer during COVID-19 as the poorer classes were left to struggle and survive. Inequality as some doubled their accounts. How anyone can celebrate Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos is beyond me? Tesla and SpaceX grew over six-fold in their profits. The planet had to suffer the air damage but the banks raked in the funds. Mark Zuckerberg, Larry Page, Larry Ellison, Sergey Brin. Warren Buffet, Steve Ballmer, the Waltons (Jim, Alice and Rob: Walmart’s owners), Phil Knight, Michael Bloomberg, and MacKenzie Scott make up a huge panel of those who average 61.7% growth between them. That’s just America. China had a similar pattern too – although leader Xi Jinping is working against that. COVID-19 has been good for the mega-rich individuals of China. It wouldn’t surprise me if their NAT tests use gold-plated swab tests. The giants stand on the dead, right? Although Russian oligarchs did well, they’re now getting smashed by sanctions following Russia’s real-life enactment of the board game Risk (buy a copy at local shop Amazon to keep Jeff Bezos fed). History really does repeat itself.

Apologies for any cohesion being lost by a piece of writing being edited a whole 8 days later. I haven’t quite had a mood to write for a long time. Rant over? TO BE CONFIRMED.

Peace and love x

ERIC CARLE June 25th 1929 – May 23rd 2021

224 words shaped so many bedtime reading sessions. Bedrooms around the world were greeted with a heart-warming tale of growth, albeit through humour and a spot of seemingly obesity. The story has radiated like the light from the moon, from pages in over 60 languages to beaming eyes looking at the colourful intricate nature of the tale.

“That’s something I learned in art school. I studied graphic design in Germany, and my professor emphasized the responsibility that designers and illustrators have towards the people they create things for.” – Eric Carle

Eric Carle didn’t just write that one book of course. His designs, illustrations and words have appeared in numerous texts. Having dropped his first drawings in 1965, Aesop’s Fables for Modern Readers (Peter Pauper Press), the new-to-the-scene and relatively young illustrator was spotted by educator and author Bill Martin Jr. One red lobster in an advertisement led to a lifetime of colour and creation.

“We have eyes, and we’re looking at stuff all the time, all day long. And I just think that whatever our eyes touch should be beautiful, tasteful, appealing, and important.” – Eric Carle

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? was an award-winning book collaboration with the late author Bill Martin Jr. Thereafter cardboard editions, die-cut holes, inflatables, plastic pockets and multiple versions of artwork with words began to grow and filter from Eric Carle to the world. Countless children have lived and learned through rhyming picture books and used string in one of his many creations.

“One day I think it’s the greatest idea ever that I’m working on. The next day I think it’s the worst that I’ve ever worked on – and I swing between that a lot. Some days I’m very happy with what I’m doing, and the next day I am desperate – it’s not working out!” – Eric Carle

The story of the story-teller is ever more remarkable. This was a man, who his wife Barbara Morrison, strongly believed had held a form of post traumatic stress disorder. He’d dug trenches on the dreaded Siegfried Line of a World War II battlefield. He’d seen death at first hand, aged only around 15 years of age. But then, darkness turned to light over the years: “One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and – pop! – out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar.” Okay, it wouldn’t have been that simple, but Eric Carle refused to bow down and give in. Years of toil brought his mind to a place where writing was permitted. An audience was earned. From Germany in World War II, he returned to his country of birth, the U.S.A. and found his way from Syracuse to the New York Times as a graphic artist.

“Let’s put it this way: if you are a novelist, I think you start out with a 20 word idea, and you work at it and you wind up with a 200,000 word novel. We, picture-book people, or at least I, start out with 200,000 words and I reduce it to 20.” – Eric Carle

Via stints back in Germany, for the U.S. Army (during the Korean War) he went on to be an art director at an advertising agency. His collage techniques, rich in hand-painted paper, featured layers and slices of vivid imagination set out as tiny pieces of artwork. Nature and wonder have set tones throughout his simple stories. These stories have been warm and inviting, and give hope to children, especially those new to schooling and education.

Papa, please get the moon for me is a tale of great importance in my opinion. It shows us that imagination is wonderful, even if it is breaking something seen as impossible. Whoever told me that Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny weren’t real, or anybody for that matter, that breaks the dreams of a child, deserves a good long look at themselves. Reality and imagination can sit side by side, otherwise Neil Armstrong, or Elon Musk or Celine Dion would not be around. Ability and knowledge need the company of spark and dream – and that’s where imagination grows.

“They are deceptively simple. I admit that. But for me, all my life I try to simplify things. As a child in school, things were very hard for me to understand often, and I developed a knack, I think. I developed a process to simplify things so I would understand them.” – Eric Carle

As I sit typing words and reading about Eric Carle’s history, I recall flicking through glossy covers of his books, and the joy as my face beamed when I discovered a translated copy in Hengli, Dongguan. That beautiful familiar white cover with a caterpillar and a red apple missing a mouthful, all slightly imbalanced, as if to say, and to appeal, that things aren’t always neat and tidy. One day when COVID-19 passes and the world is a little more tidy, I dream to fly to Amherst, Massachusetts to see the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. That would be as good as finding another Uroballus carlei on a trip to Hong Kong. The Caterpillar Jumping Spider’s Latin name is testament to the reach and pull of a world class picture book writer.

“My father used to take me for walks in the woods. He would peel back the bark of a tree and show me the creatures who lived there. I have very fond memories of these special times with my father and in a way I honor him with my books and my interest in animals and insects.” – Eric Carle

ERIC CARLE June 25th 1929 – May 23rd 2021