Abducting The Cook

What do people get up to when they have few real problems?

Well, there was a thing that used to go on occasionally when I was around ten or so... Abducting of cooks. Yep. In fact there was this one particular older lady from India somewhere – though from memory I don't think she was northern Indian. She was incredibly good. She could cook dishes from absolutely anywhere but she had a few specialties for which she was absolutely famous. In fact she was unreasonably good.

Who started it all were a set of brothers and cousins who all carried the middle names of 'Roxborough.' Although their mother was from a stonkingly wealthy shipping family (not related to me however, sadly), their father shockingly insisted on making his own money as well, from doctoring or surgeoning or something of the like... The outcome was that the kids always had better toys and gadgets than the kids from all the other wealthy families with generally one stay-at-home parent. And, for some reason no one could ever fathom, they managed to have the time and patience to put together those ridiculously big and complicated Revel plastic kits of huge battle ships...

But they didn't possess the best cook.

The best cook belonged to another 'doctor family' – this time with the wife being the doctor and the husband an Oxford law and history graduate who for family reasons and politics was 'merely' a senior school teacher.

My own thrown-together mild chicken curry
from last night.

...And then one day the cook was abducted by the reprobate kids and forced to cook for them one weekend in secret when there was a gathering celebrating Churchill's birthday or Gandhi's ascension to heaven or the General Milk Company's contracting the doctors for some mercantile purpose, or something. The big families were going to have their household cooks do the honours, you see.

The whole thing was as far as I can recall both the greatest scandal and the most intrepid and successful event the country had witnessed since WWII ended. The tale of how the victim-family was invited to sample the dishes at table to see whether they could detect what was going on or not ranks as the biggest prank ever carried out in the hallowed dining rooms of the upper crust of this particular country that shall remain nameless here. I feel absolutely sure that cases of Tiger Beer were donated by the brewery beforehand so that the targeted doctor was as sozzled as possible before eating his own abducted cook's fare.

But then, it didn't end there because ransom was demanded in fact, for the cook to be returned, no one ever admitted formally to who had purloined the cook, and I am pretty sure both money changed hands, and the cook had to spend time at another household as well, that had bribed the kids to get her for a week, I think.

Oh yes wait a minute, I remember, (now) Professor Derek Llewelyn-Jones and Major Hunt of the Everest Expedition were g's-o.-h., at the dinner. Nothing to do with Gandhi or Churchill or General Milk.

Ah, those were the days. And those were the people. They don't make 'em like that any more. Well not much like that anyways.

Best, Calvin J. Bear

The Roman Pornocracy

If you are very well-read, let's not say 'educated' - it means something entirely different today to what it meant fifty years ago... Well, if you are knowledgable, the thought will occasionally occur to you that so-and-so must have access to the higher books of learning, in spite of what is commonly portrayed about them.

I ask myself, now and then, for instance, what books does Paris Hilton read? She shows, apart from the obvious things she shows, that she has some fundamental appreciation about higher culture. What that will turn out in the end to shape of her life I cannot detect, but she will likely not make certain types of mistakes that others have made who are in the spotlight and have wealth and position of some kind. I think in particular right now of Lord Black – Conrad Black – of Hollinger International, the previously quite substantial media group. And I think of Lord Black in terms of the current Lord Leveson Inquiry into the machinations of the print media in London. Oddly, at least it seems so to me, there has been no instance or indication that any of Conrad Black's newspapers were engaged in the same scandalous behaviour that Rupert Murdoch's were. How two competing participants within the same industry grouping could behave apparently so diametrically differently in their commercial practices begs the question why Conrad Black experienced so much animus against him.

No, there is no printable answer; for we are living in the last times of Rome under Nero, that is abundantly clear. There is a particular kind of stubborn stupidity in anyone believing that we are not; it is unreasonable any longer no matter how pacific you may want your equanimity to be. It's the ostrich-in-the-sand thing!

It has been all too easy for Rupert Murdoch's Octopus arms to imply mud where there wasn't any, and to have the hypothetical mud stick with tangible effect, while the strictly legally tangible stuff was dragged out in tricky courts over too many years with underlying animus driving officers of the court, frankly. Young Conrad Black was, I fear, a rich youth naiive about the sharks in the pond. He displayed his wealth too openly to too many and had too much fun, and this was of course a sin to the Puritans. Ever was it thus: Jesus was feared by the Romans to be the literal blood claimant to Caeser's family wealth and title, and at least 50-something claimants to the legal title to inheritance of James Stuart's Mint of silver coin were around the place when the self-promoting Puritan, Cromwell, stole King Charles' money.

Little that I should care though. I care for things like what Paris Hilton reads, and how Deanne Berry keeps motivated in her fitness regimes, and who the hell devised the SuitSupply of Holland's advertising campaign. As I say, we are living in those times that in Rome were called 'the Pornocracy.' And when in Rome...

Best,

Calvin J. Bear

The People Of The Labyrinth

The other day I realised that a very large number of people I have come across over the years who rank in the relatively quite well-off, tend to act in a noisily ungrateful way regarding their spouse's wealth and more or less everything else about them...! Why do they get involved, afterall, one may well ask, if they so detest their situations. You get the typical answers – chemistry at the start, wild optimism, all the apparent material benefits, and so on.

But I say! This churlish behaviour once the reality sets in.

The fact is some people are thoroughly nasty when you get right down to knowing them. Louis Theroux could do himself a great big favour by turning his cynical lens on the daily life of Rupert Murdoch, for instance – but of course, neither would he be allowed to nor does he have the guts to try.

Yet I still feel for some who enter the world of moneyed society and rather innocently become skewered on the naked rapier tips poking up all around the place there.

It is not a morally bad place. This is not what I am implying at all. But I am saying one needs to be advised about certain things: poverty closes doors that ought in any case not to be opened to too many human beings under any circumstances! Money, opens doors but it opens too many doors!

Which brings me to the continuation of my myth story from the last time – the labyrinth. The modern Western myth recounts the tale of the seven young boys and the seven young girls sent to King Minos to be sacrificied to the monster the Minotaur inside the labyrinth from out of which it was virtually impossible to escape. The victims would wander around the twists and turns ever more lost until they would suddenly make one terrible turn into the waiting Minotaur who would kill them and literally eat them. The ships that subsequently returned to Athens would hoist a black sail of mourning.

However this is not the story certain Greek families tell. For a start I have to tell you that the word 'labyrinth' has a particular meaning that is not transmitted commonly today. Yet, in some parts of modern Sicily, they still preserve the doorways to certain shrines said to have been built by Daedelus, the architect of the original labyrinth, and upon which there are carved mazes and symbols that have some reference to that famous legend – or myth, if you like. Daedelus retired to old age in Sicily, as you know. Like Plato also did later on. Labyrinth, is a word which means 'two leaved,' and is mostly rendered to be a metaphor of the two-leaved axe that was supposed to be favoured by warriors and used in sacred rituals around the time of the mythical King Minos. But this story is actually about the two leaves on the sides of the outer vagina. People commonly have supposed the 'two leaves' to be about the dual halves of the puzzle 'labyrinth,' but it is about the types of doors and doorways at the beginning and inside the segments of the unicurved maze, and it is especially about the symbolism and psychology of sex – about which the rite of the labyrinth is in fact actually concerned.

And so, I shall extenuate my explanation and now advance to quote a little of the Roman Pliny, about the ancient mythical city of Minos, namely that it had sacred, rich, and wonderful palaces of 'many doors and galleries which mislead the visitor.'

So do not think that all who lead lives of extreme wealth spend all of their time generously tolerating the simple, or the unlearned, or the noisy nouveau riche, and welcome them into their inner sanctums where they can easily trample unrestrained all over olde wealth culture and cause mischief and mayhem. The world today, by one reason and another, even has such uncouth people trampling around in very high places, in dictatorships, at the head of large corporations, very especially in the media, and in churches and open democratic politics as well.

At a certain time, the gods will destroy such antics. First, societies use rituals properly, and retain an understanding of their proper meaning and purpose, and then, when there is degeneracy, and people lose the meaning of their culture, there is eventual destruction. One cannot grab and hang onto power and money because of brute force and selfish ignorance and stubbornness. Well, that is to say, one can – until something happens to you. The point of the Noah story is that one can and prudently ought to build a safe haven against the deluge caused by divine displeasure, and that one can and ought to hand-pick who and what is allowed in. For me I suppose, it is just a matter of whimsy really, that I quite like the fashion stance of the Dutch fashion House 'People Of The Labyrinths.' All the same, there is a great meaning behind such myths and stories, and advisedly such things are well-recommended to those who would step into the real world of old wealth and aristocracy. I shall not be talking about the Dutch men's clothing group 'Suit Supply' just for the moment... But you might look them up to get an idea about it!

Regards,

Calvin J. Bear

The Daedalus Barrier

Something known as the Drake Equation describes the probability of human-like intelligent life in other parts of the Galaxy as being very highly likely, if not indeed, virtually certain.

The Fermi Paradox questions why, if the Drake Equation is correct, we haven't encountered it yet.

I need not go too deeply into these two concepts here – with the internet these days, any reader can, if they aren't already fully familiar with either concept, read up on them quite exhaustively.

However to me there is a great deal these days that passes for science and intelligent thought, that is in fact really nothing more than present-era folklore. Yes, these sorts of ideas contain some mathematical contructions that are meant to reflect or even represent the situation that is being looked at. And these constructions can be quite complex and impressive and look the part. But this is a kind of a trick, a way to infer legitimacy by associating a weak conclusion with something external that is solid and strong itself.

A Monstrous Bull

My own concept borrows a great deal from an ancient Greek, and by our own family folklore, an ancestor of mine – a certain Daedalus, of Ithaca. This Daedalus once made an incredible maze for King Minos, in which was kept the deadly and horrible monster the Minotaur. Once a victim entered the maze, they would never be able to discover the way out, and were forced to go further inwards, into the centre of the maze, where the Minotaur was, and where they would meet certain death – according to the most common versions of the tale.

Humans appear to have this remarkable inclination to create mazes of the mind for themselves to wander around in, where none actually exists in the outside physical reality. Reality consists of a large number of shapes and sizes of a very large number of things: some things are smaller than we can easily see, some too large individually for us to perceive what they are as a whole complete thing. Some things we know of as the result of many of them appearing together and thereby becoming more perceptible to our senses at our own human level, some we know of only one face or aspect of them at a time since they are quite gargantuan in their complete form to our human level of sense and perceptions.

The immensely complicated maze of Daedalus was overcome through the device of a simple ball of a single string that the holder unwound as they went into the maze, and then could wind back up in order to retrace their steps and find their way back out again.

Without such a device to assist us to 'cheat,' as it were, the complexity of 'the maze' - whatever that maze is - our perceptions and intellect are at the mercy of potentially overwhelming odds that run against us: fear of the monster in the dark, fear of our own demise, doubts about the clarity of our senses, the problems of perspective that confront us when matters are not on the human scale, and the fundamentally gravitic forces of crowd mentality... The problem of encountering other intelligent human-like life in the Cosmos is not resolved by the Drake Equation, or any better understood by the Fermi Paradox, because in the way of our perceptions is the Daedalian Wall.

Of course the original myth of the Minoan Maze contains a lot of complex psychology – and certainly, the sacrifice of virgins to propitiate the monster is a recurring theme throughout human history. In another post soon, I shall, I am sure, voice some of my own views about things like the Golden Apples of Hera, and the black sailed ships returning from Minos. And the virgins.

Best, Calvin J. Bear.

Good-Looking Russian Models

Maybe because I have now been sucked into playing the “From Russia With Love” Sony PSP game, I think I am going through a Russian-stuff phase.

I mean yes, it's true I still have a few friends left in the post-KGB world... Who tell me by the way, that every Russian outside of Russia attributes all the good things there to Putin, and every Russian inside Russia blames him for all the bad things.

Well, in all events, I remind myself that I have always had some regard for the work of the Russian designer Slava Zaitsev and recently I had the chance to see some of his work again in a private showing in South Africa. Zaitsev distinguishes himself from the rest of the European design/fashion world by engaging models who are both not dead, and not ugly. Granted a lot of what he does is not suited to the places I find myself in most of the time – hot, dry, or hot, humid, and monsoon-y. But the workmanship he accesses and the fabrics and materials are first-class. And his vibe is more positive and uplifted than perhaps the economics of Russia is entitled to necessarily reflect. On the other hand it's funny how some things of quality and standard seem to survive the worst of times and get swamped more often when the broader environment is awash with a lot of simply dumb money.

Zaitsev's vibe is also more complex and intellectual than many other designers'.

So... 'Complex, intellectual, high standard, quality ingredients...' That's obviously the stuff that turns off the denizens of the noisy media these days. They prefer stridently common, zombie-eyed, near-to-death scrawny, and dystopic, persons and visions – with a lot of noise, cursing, and chaos thrown in, literally. I saw the BBC movie critic's Mark Kermode's rant about Disney's 'John Carter Of Mars,' and immediately figured that this might be reasonable entertainment. Every single movie I've seen panned by popular media critics has proved to be the exact opposite of what was said about it and JCOM is no different.

The thing that is most unfair about this particular production is the sheer lack of respect for the hard work given by the cast – Lynn Collins in particular sells her role in the film through commitment to the producers and a commitment to credible adult belief about her character, and it works. The whole thing works and I believe there is not a single expletive throughout the entire movie either.

I could say something really nasty about people like Kermode, but I won't because for one thing I know for sure that – and I have said this before, the Rothschilds are not Zionist Illuminati World Domination-seeking bastards – but that there are certain ideological alliances and slants by the poster children of the gutter media and the popular yellow press is quite clearly evident to me. People ought to aim their conspiracies at this crew! And it's all about the material power that has gone to their collective heads, and not to any allegiance to a political or a national or a religious or an ethnic or a racial cause. Do I think that movie critics are seeking to be the financial powers behind the movie producers' thrones? Oh yes I sure do. But, as many of you already know, I have always been a strong supporter of the words and sentiments of Julia Phillips when it comes to the film business. Her words are complex, intellectual, displaying personal flaws and weaknesses, yes – but true enough for those who can fathom them. She seems to say that ego and the arrogance of unchallenged power drives the animus of the rulers of the channels of mass communication – of which I would say movie critics rank as a set of such 'rulers.' And unlike Robert Parker, the seriously flawed wine critic, movie critics have produced nothing at all of relevance and value to the role into which they have inserted themselves in everyone's lives.

Best,

Calvin J. Bear