My friend, the racist.

I've not felt compelled of late to share my thoughts, what with being so busy in work, preparing for the new arrival, and just enjoying the political roller-coaster that's been the televised debates and the election itself. Those things, and others, have kept me pre-occupied and happy enough to leave the blogosphere to it's own devices.
Then out of the blue I receive a text message that was so astounding in it's thinly veiled racism that I find myself back at the keyboard.
The guy that sent it to me claims he's not racist (would it be wrong to note that BNP leader Nick Griffin claims the same?), and (unlike Nick Griffin who surely knows he's a bigoted lard sack of intolerance and hate) I think he genuinely believes he isn't.
So to help my racist friend understand just how racist he is (I'm doing this out of love in the hope that together we can make a better world, ish), I've de-constructed the version he put on Facebook:

If we marched for our race and rights, you would call us racists.

This is not a great start as it's immediately evasive. It soon becomes apparent who “we” and “you” are so why wasn't the author comfortable stating so from the outset? Perhaps because if they had it would all too soon have descended into farce as we try to fathom exactly which 'white rights' we are currently denied to the extent that we would need to march. I'm certainly not aware of being denied any rights, including the rights to march and engage in legitimate protest, on account of my ethnicity as a white man. On that basis alone I can't help but see the claim as inflammatory and designed to promote racial tension.

You are proud to be black, brown. yellow and orange (just felt the need to interject at this point to say how pleased I am that the Umpa-Lumpas are represented), and you're not afraid to announce it, but when we announce our white pride, you call us racist.

This is difficult for me to address because I can only do so on assumption as with not being black, brown, yellow, orange or purple or blue, I can sing a rai.. sorry.. I have never suffered ridicule and persecution based on my ethnicity. I'm not helped by the fact that I can't claim to understand exactly what “white pride” is supposed to be either. Am I or should I be proud to be white? My being white would never have meant I was treated as sub-human, so why would I feel the need to reclaim something that has never been forcibly stripped from me? What significance does my whiteness have on how proud I feel? I feel a sense of pride in my achievements and the achievements of those close to me, but my whiteness has no bearing on that. I think I'm probably labouring the point a bit but I just don't see where the “white” fits in, other than to be inflammatory and promote racial tension of course.

You rob us, carjack us, and shoot at us, but when a white police officer shoots a black gang member or beats up a black drug dealer running from the law and posing a threat to society, you call him a racist.

Wow! So, in context, all black, brown, yellow and orange people are violent, gun toting, drug dealing thieves. It follows then that us whites are all fine upstanding law abiding citizens, hence the lack of white people currently in prison! Good job that's indisputable or someone might think it was inflammatory and designed to promote racial tension (last time I say that - promise).
The police are tasked with upholding the law, they are not the dispensers of arbitrary justice (well, they're not supposed to be anyway).

Why is it that only whites can be racist?

It isn't. Racism is faultlessly tolerant in its bigotry.

There is nothing improper about this text message.

Apart from the fact it's overtly racist and designed to create division of course.

Let's see which of you are proud enough to send it on. I sadly don't think many will. That's why we have LOST most of OUR RIGHTS in this country. We won't stand up for ourselves! BE PROUD TO BE WHITE! It's not a crime YET..... but getting very close!

The level of ignorance on display here would shame a lump of igneous rock, right down to the short-sightedness of the author in presenting an opportunity whereby simply attempting to refute the text would in itself disprove the author's premise. Oh irony, you sexy bitch! (someone else can deal with that casual misogyny.)

It is estimated that ONLY 5% of those reaching this point in this text message, will pass it on.

Estimated by who? That's up there with: 73% of statistics are made up on the spot; 13% of people are unlucky; and 100% of this blog's authors see that figure as another attempt at creating a sense of marginalisation where none exists.

Over the next few weeks England will be awash with flags of St George, and the pubs throughout the land will be packed with football fans cheering on England at the World Cup in South Africa. Will every flag bearer be white? Will every drinker screaming his passion at the TV be white? Will every player pulling on the shirt and representing my country be white?

I'm an overweight, middle aged, balding, academically weak, white, heterosexual male, who was born and raised in England. So what?

I'm Game(r)

I love being a gamer, but I hate that there’s a term that defines me by that one leisure activity. Even if we are still clinging to the lower case ‘g’. We are gamers, hear us eat Wotsits and forlornly sigh into our noise reduction microphones attached to our 5.1 headsets. When I was younger and fitter I played football but no-one would ever have called me a footballer. I watch a fair amount of movies and television so should I also be defined as a watcher? I could change my name to Chancy Gardener. I play a number of instruments, though the only sub category of musician I am sufficiently proficient in that I would be comfortable claiming it is drummer. Drummers being musicians with their brains removed jokes notwithstanding.

Other than the activities I do as part of my current employment for which I am defined by my job title (itself a rather meaningless label), there are so many things I do that are surely as equally valid as the ‘gamer’ tag (see what I did there?). I once described myself as an ass kissing, jive talking, soda slurping, crisp chomping, camera clicking, guitar strumming, drum bashing, bullshit spouting, candy assed white boy. I think that pretty much still holds water, particularly as candy assed middle aged fat baldy man doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. It certainly is more encompassing and gives a better idea of who and what I am than defining me as a gamer simply because one of the things I choose to do to entertain myself is play video games.

The latest statement from South Australia’s Attorney-General Michael Atkinson about fearing gamers has highlighted to me that continuing to use the term marginalises everyone who plays video games, and so while the majority of people I know now play games at least on a semi-regular basis, that is to persist with the notion that people who play video games are an insignificant minority group. He has consistently shown himself to be ill informed and lacking in a basic understanding of the medium or the people who play games, but when individuals start name calling or loitering around his house, all people who play games are labelled by association and any moral high ground is lost. As an aside, I notice his crusade against mature video games had now spread to movies too and I do wonder when he’ll start on books. But I digress.

As more and more people play games the term ‘gamer’ loses any significance. It’ll be like defining yourself as human (real world remember, you can still be an elf in Dragon Age:Origins). Can I just be a fat bloke who plays games? Can I be game without being a gamer?

At Home with The Dentons - Episode Fifteen:

Hardly Revolutionary

Paul: Curious without being in any way intriguing wouldn’t you say JC?
JC: What is and would I?
Paul: Trademarking the term revolution as part of the title when the suggestion has always been that augmentation was a technical evolution.
JC: They could have gone with Creationism for all the difference it will make.
Paul: At least you’re talking about it.
JC: Talking about what?

Love is...

Preparing to leave work on Friday, a question came at me from the radio in the corner.
“How will I know if he really loves me?”
Well Whitney, I'd suggest that if he's forcing cocaine up your nose and giving you some old fashioned back handed bitch slapping, I don't think he does. I only hope you don't regret not asking me sooner.
Get yourself a cat.

At Home with The Dentons - Episode Fourteen:

Differences Resolved

Paul: Hey JC.
JC: Hi Paul.
Paul: You making a resolution for New Year?
JC: I thought I might try and be more tolerant. I’ve been feeling the strain this year and I know I’ve let my anger get the better of me on occasion, so a more relaxed and caring JC this year I think.
Paul: That’s great, well done.
Alex: Hey guys, happy new year.
JC: Piss off!

At Home with The Dentons - Episode Thirteen:

'Ave it, Ah!

Paul: Hi JC.
JC: Hi Paul. I saw Avatar last night.
Paul: Isn’t it great? While the story is familiar and dialogue somewhat clichéd, the presentation and effects combine so beautifully that didn’t you find it redefined what we should expect from the cinematic experience?
JC: With my ocular augmentations I thought my vision might correct the effects and didn’t want to risk the extra expense, so I went to the 2D version.
Paul: I have to be somewhere else.

Silence is Olden

I've been spending just over a month now getting back in the habit of getting back into old habits. I'm paying tax again, which is never to be enjoyed, though it at least means I can feel justified in complaining about things of which I care little but am contributing to in some minuscule way.

I'm tootling along at a blistering 60mph on my little motorbike most mornings, while the cold North Wales winds do their utmost to prize my fingers from their joints. I long for the day I can get a bigger bike. One that can have heated grips. Probably should pass my test first though. And get more money.

Minor amusement this week saw the end of the latest series of X-Factor, with the prospect of this year's winner (a boy with a name of some description) potentially being denied the top spot of the nations hit parade by virtue of a significant number of people who, tired of the formulaic approach to the annual inevitability, have set about purchasing an alternate track. Nothing says anarchic quite like orchestrated co-ordination.

Much has been made of the fact both artists are on the Sony label, so whichever way it goes the label are having extra stuffing balls with this year's turkey. I've likened it to deciding to stick it to the man by not buying Coke any more and buying Sprite instead. It's also the concept in itself and the choice of track. All the people urging others to buy Rage Against The Machine, and this little voice in the back of my head is screaming "Fuck you I won't do what you tell me!"
Having said that, it remains a fantastic track and has lost nothing with age, so ultimately I bleat like a sheep and do my bit. If for no other reason that a part of me longs for the Xmas albums of tomorrow, where 'Killing In The Name' nestles between Bowie/Bing's rendition of 'Little Drummer Boy' and McCartney's 'Simply Having A Wonderful Christmas Time'. What a beautiful world that would be.